Your government may deny me visa

My entry may be banned

I may be declared persona non grata.

It doesn’t faze me a bit.

Boundaries are made by humans

And they have never been able to stop me.

Never was a showy iconoclast,

But loved to break rules which suffocated

Which stopped me from being me

Which were imposition of someone else’s will on me.

So I quietly chipped away at the edifice of rules.

Physically I may not be able to enter your country

But my mind is not your slave.

It needs no passport to enter nor exit

And I will invade it again and again.


I don’t need your favours, fortune,

I am done with luck.

Hard work and perseverance will take me

To where I belong

So I am stopping the buck.

Faith in self is what I need

To conquer the unconquerable

Fortune baby, shower your bounty

On those who find life unsurmountable.

I am my own talisman, my very own good omen

Life’s knocks have taught me a thing or two

To trust my own voice and pen.

This door needs no knocking, go favour someone else

Alone I maybe, but never lonesome,

Fortune I need you not, I tell you,

Life with all its ups and downs is wholesome.


The universe is my home

In my thoughts I can dwell

 Wherever I want

Boundaries of nations can’t keep me out.

One moment I am here,

 The other, miles away.

Being inveterate traveller helps me 

traverse untrodden paths

And opens virgin vistas 

To see, explore and own.

But the day you stepped into my life

You staked claim on my soul

And it became your territory.

My uncharted flights were halted

 I willingly surrendered 

To your supremacy.

And now I am sinking into

 A quagmire of helplessness.

I cannot stay chained for long.

Chafing unsuccessfully

 To free my soul 

To soar once again at will and become

Unclaimed territory once again.


The angry welt across my cheek

Is turning purple from pink

He didn’t mean to hurt me

He loves me:

My subservient self.

The beast in him was unleashed

When I forgot myself and said ‘no’

“No” is not what he likes to hear.

He will in a while apply 

Salve on my bruise

Shed copious tears

Bury his head in my lap

And beg forgiveness.

I will forgive like I always do

I am his saviour

His beacon

Can’t let him dwell in darkness.

But of late my body has been

 Turning purple too often.


चंद लाइने हम सबके पतियों को समर्पित…

बड़ी हसरत थी हमें की कोई हमें 

‘बेबी’ या ‘जान’ बुलाएगा

आसमान से हमारे लिए

वो चाँद और तारे तोड़ लाएगा।

हाल यह है कि हमारे ‘ये’ 

‘सुनो’ से आगे न बढ़ पाए हैं,

इस दिल के सारे ही अरमान 

इसी दिल में घर कर गए हैं।

इश्क मुहब्बत की बातें तो दूर

हम रोजी रोटी में उलझ  गए हैं।

शादी के बाद जतन से 

तैयार होकर जो

मैंने पूछा  ‘कैसी लग रही हूँ मैं?’

हैरान होकर कुछ देर मुझे घूरा

फिर बोले ‘जैसी रोज दिखती हो!’

कसम से कहती हूँ उस दिन 

यह दिल तार-तार हो गया था मेरा ।

फिर खुद को यह समझाया 

मेरे पल्ले बुद्धू पड़ गया है

अब जैसा भी है यह बुद्धू

यह मेरे जीवन का केवट है।

बात यहीं खत्म हो जाती 

तो भी गनीमत थी

पर इनकी नीरसता का 

क्या- क्या बखान करूँ 

किसी दिन गर किस्मत से 

बीमार जो मैं पड़ जाऊँ 

दवा- दारू की बजाय कहेंगे

‘जब अपनी चाय बनाओ 

तो मेरी भी बना देना’!

सच कहती हूँ बीमार पड़ने का 

मजा ही खराब हो जाता है।

वो प्यार तकरार की बातें, 

वो रूठने मनाने के किस्से,

वाकई में कहूँ अगर मैं तो

परियों के से हैं ये किस्से।

यहाँ तो कोई बात इनको जब

नागवार सी गुजर जाए 

तो हफ्तों घर में हमारे 

 मौन चलचित्र चलता है।

पति तो ऐसे ही होते हैं,

सच्चाई तो है यही बिलकुल

फिर यह मनगढ़न्त किस्से

फिल्मों और टी वी पर क्यों दिखाते हैं?


Nobody likes being called aunty or uncle by total strangers, especially if they are closer to your age. But in India it is a common phenomenon. As soon as a young woman gets married she is elevated to this stage. For here, it is disrespectful to call anyone older by the first name and the concept of calling someone Mr./Mrs. X has still not caught on. So you are aunty to a toddler, a teen, a college grad, avegetable vendor, a doorstep salesman et al.

This poem is inspired by Duke of York’s speech from Richard ll.

So here goes, with due apologies to dear departed Shakespeare.

Aunty me no aunty, nor behenji me no behenji

I am no upstart’s aunty; and that word ‘aunty’!

In a relatively unknown’s mouth, is but profane!

Why have these strangers’ mouths

Dar’d to forge a relation?

But then more ‘why?’ Why have they dar’d to

So many times address unsuspecting women,

Despairing them with the spectre of old age and doddering countenance?

Call’st thou so because thou feels young?

Why, foolish people, I am younger than thine mom!

But still I have the power

To chastise thou for crossing the line between humility and stupidity!

Were I thou mom, I would have

Banished thee to the confines of a finishing school

To unlearn this boorishness; and learn manners

As to how to address a lady in proper fashion.

Office Cougar


The night was dark and deep,

Ms. X could hardly sleep.

Tossing and turning in the bed

She was thinking how to get,

That young hot hunk, new on the block

To tango with her hormonal clock.

She wanted him in her sheets,

Wrapped around her like saree pleats.

Her mind plotted and whirred,

By morning a crafty plan was stirred.

She walked into the office dressed to kill

Tonight in her bed he would thrill.

She walked past him swaying her hips,

A fervent prayer on her lips.

She bestowed on him a sultry smile

A smile that was meant to beguile.

He looked at her and his eyes widened,

She took it as a sign, his interest heightened.

But then he looked past and his eyes brightened

He was making eyes at the intern newly appointed.

She rushed to the loo to rethink strategy

Where realisation dawned with finality.

Staring in the mirror was her egregious blunder!

She had forgotten to wear her DAMN denture!!