Hiding the truth


Having someone

Who admits upfront

The hatred towards you,

Hurts you,

And always complains

About you

Is better

Than having one

Who tries to smile at you,

Pretends to care,

And yet,

Makes you see

Only one side

Of the truth.

Edit: Coincidence is finding this line in the book I was reading –




All these days

It has been repeated

Without hesitation

That a mistake

Has been done;

Every now and again,

Like a sharp knife

Piercing the heart

As blood oozes out

Dripping along

While running away,

Trying to escape

This place of torment,

From the blame, the accusation

As it hurts so much

Knowing to have been a burden

In all of life;

If letting in

Was a mistake,

The price has been paid,

For, every now and then

There is a new accusation

Which is capable of breaking a person


But whatever happens,

Though the knife is passed

Through this mortal body

Again and again,

And again,

Although this pain is unbearable,


If I’m still alive,

I shall come again,

Just so you can pass your knife through me





Every moment

With utmost vigilance,

To capture in memory permanently

That one moment:

One sign

Of love –

One gesture

Of care –

From you,


There are things

Left unsaid

Everyday I wait, thinking

That one day you’ll see

My honesty,

You’ll see

That I had always wanted

To be there,

That there had always been 

An empty space

That you hadn’t filled,

But that’s okay.

Still, I know

That there exists a tiny part

Of you

That loves me unconditionally

Like any father does

Their daughter;

Though you never show it to me,

I know it exists.



​Not having anyone

In this world

Who can do a favour

Or be of help

In times of grief

Or for moral support –

Not having a single being

Who knows better,

Who cares,

Spots the wiped-up tears,

Who can hear through the silence

The high-pitched cries of desperation –

Not having a person

To share

This immense sorrow

For which there’s no more space

In this chest

To contain and hide –

Is why soltitude is unbearable.



​Being alone,

In this merciless world,

Wanting destruction,


About the cruelty

Of the current world,

Wanting to be taken

By death,

Not wanting anyone

By the side,

Pushing away

People who care,

Stepping on their kindness

And crushing

Without even knowing so

Requires guts –

Which you seem to have in plenty

Even at this age.



​Death comes

Like waves from the depths of the ocean,

The lively, endless tides,

Urging to take you along;

Like an enormous eagle

Flying round and round

Over its prey

Spying, plotting

Before tearing it apart;

Death is,

Unexpected, but firm,


Like the noose

Tightening one’s throat

Till the breath stops;

Like a letter that is written,

Addressed to you –

Beckoning you forward;

Death, my friend

Is the only thing

That humbles arrogance,

Tames adamancy,

Calms anger,

Heals all pain,

As a mask of serenity envelops you,

And bees come to feast

Slowly, followed by ants,

And a few other insects

Until vultures set their eyes

On your rotting carcass.

My only worry


Every single drop

Of your tears,

Being sharper than a knife –

Shatters me

Into a billion pieces;

All the silent moments,

Those of away-ness,

Days of no response,

Which is all we ever have,

Is saddening;

I realise

That you’ve suffered so much

That you’ve not laughed

With all your heart

Since decades;

Knowing that you will never laugh

The way you did before,

That you’ll never be as carefree

As you had once been,

Knowing that you will

Forever push away

Everyone who comes to help,

Saying they’re not worthy enough

Is why I’m unable

To do anything

But weep silently;

As this inability to be of help

Gnaws my insides

Little by little,

And I shall perish

Worrying about you, father,

Till my last day.

My umbrella


It rains not every single day,

I forget you’re even there,

Safely resting

In a forgotten corner

Of my little bag;

You’re my umbrella,

Shielding me

From all the pain

That life showers upon me;

You’re my umbrella,

Shielding me from the sun,

Lest my skin should get tan;

You’re my umbrella,

Under which I can hide my tears

Or peel away the everyday facade

Of happiness;

You’re my umbrella,

Although I don’t require one everyday,

I know you’re there, always.

You’re my umbrella, father,

You’re the haven that I always look for.

An unsatisfactory weekend


As the sun goes down,


Darkening the hue

Of the lively canvas

That we wonder at everyday,

As birds reach their nests,

Check on their eggs,

And get into a peaceful slumber,

As the brightness of the sun

Dims down,

Paving way for the stars 

To shine their innocent light

Onto earth,

And the dark takes over,

Where the moon shines happily,

I stand in the shadows,

And pray for the sun

Not to be gone;

I pray and pray and pray,

But alas,

The sun is long gone –

The prayers were never heard;

And the next morning,

The sun shall rise

On the first day of the next week,

Even if there’s any unfinished business

Or if the weekend

Hasn’t been satisfactory –

The sun never does care.



Loneliest of all,

Having no one to listen

To the grief, the sorrow,

Having no one who gives a damn,

Having a friend

Or a person

In life,

Who wants to know

The reason

Behind this loneliness,

This moment of weakness,

This moment

Where any stranger

Can enter

And disrupt the routine

Of an already uneventful life,

Is the most frightening of all.

Being vulnerable

To love that’s fake,

To shallow talks of consolation,

Melting for a tiny word,

Hanging onto it for support,

Believing it would last forever

Is what makes things