A toast to the selfless

“The land knows you,even when you are lost.”

For a cut made by a grass blade,
she comes as holy basil for cure.
For a hungry stomach,
she comes as a ripened fruit.
For a scorching day,
she comes with her tree hands stretched.
For a thirst throat,
she comes as an elixir of water streams.

Whether you love her or harm her,
she’ll only serve you,care you!

A sanguine note

Stone pelts,gun shots,killings,
eyes of lost childhood,still,
questioning you and me.
the world awakes,depressed.

The serene mother,
looks bleak,with acid and alkali
flowing over all her veins and arteries,
drying her up.

Life or death,people stood,

But let’s be hopeful,
once again,
there will always be light at the end of the tunnel!

Dear my former self,Devika at 18 with curly hair

The curls of my hair rising in the wind,
we walked around holding hands.

He loved me and I loved him too.
He loved curling my already curly hair,
with his index finger.

We roamed around,sang together,
loved with no limits.

Today,pages flip back in my mind,
of memories filled of beauty and life.

He,rather we,deep within,
remain a sweet scented mystery,now and forever…

The Lunar Laments!

In a moonbeam night,
smelling old books on my shelf,
I want to feel a soothing coffee.

From there I will rise,
move like a lazy beauty,
piercing the fog.
And I will climb the fir,
I’ll sing loud the canteen songs,
which I sang once with my dearest ones!

Damn!these dreams are very,very short to live!

Down All the Days

These beautiful paradoxes,
made with extreme care.

A gentle chirp and the scaring roars,
A firefly’s little spark and the blazing Sun,
A tiny grass blade and giant redwood,
A grounded fog and heightened clouds…

As high and low notes of symphony
creating an exhilarating melody,
your art,incomparable!

Hail! The craftsman,
for I,a simple clay toy of yours,
can only be grateful,
bowing down before you,all the days!

The paradox pair

He is a good musician,
a great cook,
and a passionate traveler.

She is a bad speaker,
a highly unromantic partner,
and hate thrillers.

He is loving her for the past seven years.


Sailing on the same boat,
humming the same lines,
we talked,
shared space,
slept under same sheet.

One got down at east,other at west.
Now,divided by directions,
by color,
by race,
by history,

They spat each other on differences.

Yes,forgetfulness is a boon,
but remembrance is a blessing.

We are one,
only the red blood and the last breath is what is real.
Let’s love,love and love.

The Last Flight,May be

It was a long flight,
I just stopped to quench my thirst.

I can’t fly,
It’s looked just like water,
but was a traitor.

The container,with me diving inside,rose up,
Alas! I was plunged into next container,
as in a waterfall,hitting my head badly.

I somehow managed to escape the clutches of the blender,
Sigh!I lost my legs but still alive.


Now,on my deathbed,I wish for life,
idiotically for saying a goodbye to my dear ones,but,
as the timer of the oven displays a zero,you’ll hear my death bell.

Will you hear that?
No,your senses will be locked on the colorful garnish over it!

A daydream

Along the stony trails of the garden,
counting every step,
picking the fallen leaves,
looking at the birds,
her winters nearing.
she walked,once again.

She took in the same fragrance,
walked the same road,
got wet in the same rain…

Sitting on the rusted swing,
her eyes closed,
her mind mused on a missing,now a longing,

A man who held her little finger then,only in her memories now!