The Poetry Marathon

A single light in the dark
A warm corner in endless winter
Like the embrace of age old cardigan
After a long journey home.

The smells will fade
So will the touch
The face and voice
Will be but a hazy picture

But I will remember
The warmth
The heart
The single light in the dark.

Changed devices,
made me think.
What else changed?

Hope was never a gentle touch
It was always a punch to the gut
It hurt, and that’s how we knew
It was there.

Hope was never a fleeting dream
It was the Stardust that made reality
Even if no one realised
It was already a part of our being

Since the beginning of time
Hope was never a vague feeling
But a harsh tug pulling us together
In the hardest of times.

And when there was nothing at all
It still burned bright
Even with the shadow of despair
It remained a guiding light– that is hope.

I remember when I got you
I was small and so was the edition
A little old, oh how I loved the texture
And the slightly off colour

I remember you had a special place
You never went to the bookshelf
But stayed right there—
under my pillow case

And I read, didn’t I?
I read you every night
Marking my favourite quotes
With one of my prettiest pens.

I learned so much from you
About kindness, and family, and love
I know I laughed and cried
Alongside the March sisters.

I wanted to play Pilgrim’s Progress as well
And let go of my bundles in the end
Wanted to write like Jo did
And maybe get published as well!

I don’t know when it happened
If I grew old enough or you did
To actually go and stay behind
A hidden corner of the bookshelf.

But even if our rendezvous did end
I would never forget
When I got you and for me
You will always have a special place.

I don’t hate Death
Nor do I fear it
No, I know it’s a friend
One that takes away suffering
And grants peace, eternal slumber

What I hate is the aftermath
The grief, the pain
The funeral arrangements
And greeting everyone
Putting up a brave face

What I fear is the aftermath
The wailing fading to soft sobbing
Waves of memories and heart-wrenching pain
The wish to turn back time
The helplessness knowing it’s a pipe dream

I don’t hate Death
Nor do I fear it
What I hate is the aftermath
What I fear is the aftermath
What I know will always follow death — the damned aftermath.

Warm milk
Almond cookies
A soft blanket
Falling rain
And the book you gave me
Perfect, right?
It would have been
If you were still here with me…

I saw a dreamcatcher today
Made of silken white threads
Woven together in a pattern
Of overlapping flower petals
Delicate, fragile
And it’s beauty accentuated by
Gentle pearls and soft petals
Mesmerizing in the way it swayed
In face of even slightest of breezes.
I imagine if the wind was harsher
It might carry it away
To another land where you don’t need to
Catch dreams to be able to sleep
Where pleasant dreams come to you
As naturally as breathing
And there it will find itself
A new dream instead of having to chase them away.

Sleep doesn’t come to me
I go to it
With a thoroughly battered
Exhausted body
And I fall
So it has to catch me
And put me to bed

I like chaos
When everything, everyone
Is just one big yarn of confusion
Tangled yarn… it won’t come off
Without cutting a few strands

I like chaos
It’s full of inspiration
Always something happening
Always something going on
It’s like a mosaic of never-ending videos

I like chaos
As long as it doesn’t
Involve me and I remain
Nothing but a spectator
A side character named hypocrisy

I crave chaos
While searching for a peaceful existence
Monotonous days, same old stories in the comfort of home
I like chaos
But I like peace better.

Every monsoon you flood over
And the traffic is bad around the year
Public transport as half baked as ever
But I will still remember you forever

You are my birthplace after all
You gave me the people I care about
And places I could go around
Calling my own

The food you have is the best
Even if the shopping district is a test
Of perseverance and courage
The crowd still feels oddly specific of you

It’s unique– the equations and stories
Your poems and songs are stunning as well
History resides in half your buildings
And harmony and brotherhood in your lanes.

Lucknow– my home, my city
Maybe I won’t be there anymore
But you will always be special to me
You will always be my home.