The gift of humanity

Alone, abandoned and adrift
in the tsunami of turbulent times
we learnt the hard way to stay afloat
we also learnt to look out for each other.

Each day a commoner lent a hand
each day brought stories of humanitarianism
each day many a precious lives were lost
each day some small victories were won too!

The powers to be never tried to make us feel safe
so we learnt to be brave to survive
the best gift that we gave to each other;
we not only held hands, despite the distance, but also beat most odds!



Happiness used to live just across the road,

sometimes I would meet her around the corner,

she would often drop in unannounced

accompanied by smiles and giggles

caught up in this humdrum yet hectic life

I started overlooking her

not purposely but …

gradually she became elusive

I hardly ever see her now

but yesterday when I could no longer take

life’s lame jokes

I partenered with zest to go in search of her

came back tired and empty handed

only to find her lounging

in the armchair waiting for me.

( This poem was first posted on 7th Oct 2019. It suited Eugi’s prompt so I am reposting it.)

A moment

A syllable pirouettes to the edge
pauses, stares at the vast empty space
a moment of doubt;
then steps back gingerly.

Words rush forth in a frenzied ecstasy
only to see the tongue tied in knots
a moment of shyness;
they retreat to silence quietly.

The body a-tingle with strange sensations
aching for culmination
a moment of fumble;
hesitation steps in awkwardly.

If only life, in its quest of death,
would stop and savour
take a moment to absorb
joys floating around freely!


Forlorn, forsaken, alone it stands

loneliness resides now in its once vibrant grounds

this house was a home once

ringing with laughter and voices

pattering footsteps, whispered secrets

boisterous debates, guttural guffaws

serenading songs and comforting silences

It was the scene of serenity and tranquillity,

of get-togethers and meetings,

of anniversaries and soirées,

of hurried breakfasts and languid dinners,

Sunday brunches and sometimes takeaways

a kids’ haven, a wife’s domain

a man’s refuge and a shelter for the elderly

welcoming and peaceful

a place, where weary heads when laid on the pillow

awakened invigorated and rejuvenated

It was bright and warm on a cold night

beckoning invitingly with its cosiness

in summers its cool confines provided solace,

soothing heart and mind

the smell of baking inveigling the senses,

smell of freshly laundered clothes, flowers in vases,

just like it should be

in a home.

and then, everything ended

it is now a mere shell of itself

quiet, desolate and abandoned

life moves on relentlessly, inexorably

and strangely,

turns homes into houses in its wake.


Chaos swirls gleefully around my ankles

threatening to drown me forever

sleep hurriedly plays hooky from half-hooded lids

leaving behind gritty, distorted vision

love strangles my neck in a sweet embrace

neither dead nor alive, I hang in limbo

in this twilight zone of suspended nothingness

lingering clandestinely, I look for foresight

hindsight only twists a rusted knife through my tortured soul

the sullen desolation in the pit of my stomach

screams tedious tales that I would rather not tell

wily words slyly tiptoe from the tips of my fingers

writing somber stories that were never intended.

These times

The cavilling crescent cowers in a corner of the caliginous skies

cacophonous ambulances going nowhere

pierce the dead of night with wailing sirens

frantic, futile search for succour coming to a naught

vacant-eyed corpses carrying  casket-less corpses

to crammed, overflowing with cadavers, cremation grounds

despair and devastation running amok on empty streets

the stench of hopelessness making the air evermore putrid

guilt, at being alive at such times, chokes uneven breaths

life loses purpose during calamitous times.

It’s been longer than intended

Hello everyone.

It has been more than three months since I have written anything. These past couple of weeks every time I tried to write something, I either drew a blank or wrote something very soppy and sentimental.

So I will try to keep it dispassionate and factual and start from where I stopped. On 25th Feb night we had to rush our 13 yrs old son to emergency as he had fainted and became unresponsive. We were told he had had a severe episode of Diabetic Ketoacidosis. We did not know what it meant. It was explained to us that it meant the onset of Type 1 diabetes in my son. You can imagine our shock and disbelief as we don’t have any diabetic on both sides of our family.

(Ironically, though India is known as the diabetes capital of the world (as it has a large number of Type 2 diabetics), we hardly know much about Type 1.)

I will not rail against the unfairness of my situation here but let me say no child should face this affliction. When I embraced motherhood after a long struggle against my own body, I surely didn’t sign up for this. But then, this is life.

Thus I gave up syllable counting for carb counting. I will not bore you with my and my family’s struggles. Our grief is our own to deal with and process. I would have written earlier to apprise you all and thank you all for your love, best wishes and prayers but then Covid struck. All four of us were down. Mercifully, the kids were asymptomatic and hubby and I did not need hospitalisation. But the situation in our country was grim and continues to be bad. The virus raged indiscriminately and there was no dignity in death. So many lives were lost because we were not prepared. The larger grief of my countrymen put mine own in perspective.

I thank you all once again for leaving kind words, for visiting my blog again and again, for mailing to me. You all are my support system and I hope you will continue to be there for me.

I am keeping the comments closed as I know I won’t be able to reply to all. I will start visiting your blogs too, as soon as possible. I may not leave comments but will surely catch up as much as I can.

I have no verse to share today as I haven’t written any poem these past few months. I share the one written earlier about my son.

My son

His giggles are infectious

His guffaws, genuine and guileless

Two years short of teenage

Unabashedly romps around in nakedness

Lacking in social finesse

Abounds in curiosity and inquisitiveness

Scattered interest in everything

He astounds with his advanced inventiveness

Voracious but selective reader

Getting scolded for apparent inattentiveness

Squirrels away nuggets of information

But ridiculed by peers for cleverness

My son, my pride

Fills me with eternal gratefulness.