If all things had been done differently,

Would the result be different? Or

Would it all lead to the same thing,

Meeting at an intersection to continue the present?

Would the different result sit well with the heart?

Or would the heart continue rocking back and forth,

Left and right in the constant storm.

Would everything be different if the past had been different?

Would the questions cease then,

If the result would be different?

Would the curious switch of the mind be blown up?

Important of all , would the wishes stop?


The reason?

Is love really the reason,

Why people are in relationships?

Is love really the reason,

Why people marry?

Is love really the reason,

Why the same people,

Stay in abusive relationships,

And is it the reason

Why some people choose to-

Remain in torturous marriages?

Because if it is the reason,

We need to add another meaning,

To this word love.

Again I ask

Is love really the reason

Or is it just an excuse?

Free of all flaws

I crave to be perfect,

Free of all flaws,

But am also hesitating,

I don’t really need perfect,

Because am asking myself,

What will I be-

Without all my scars?

What will I have learnt-

Without all my mistakes?

Who could I have been-

Without all those defining moments?

However the sad part is-

My hesitance does not stop me,

From craving perfect.

I belong to the poets.

Yesterday while taking a walk,

I saw good dancers,

And I wished I could be them,

Ahead, I saw successful musicians,

And I wished I could be them,

I saw prominent actresses,

I wished I could be them,

Near the town, I saw businesspeople,

And I still wished to be them,

But then I saw the poets,

It is their language I could understand,

It didn’t escape me like the previous ones,

Their language sank in me,

Into the deepness of my heart and soul,

And I knew there was no wishing to be them,

I just knew I was one of them.

The Stream

There is this small stream,

It is near my sister’s house,

I always dream of walking there,

Walking in its water,

Because its water has this feeling,

A rushing but soothing feeling,

But I can’t.

I know what the people will say,

They will say in their small groups,

“She has been bewitched”,

During dinner that evening,

They will say to each other,

“She is not the same anymore”

Because to them everything MUST be,

Must be normal.


There was this time when

A little girl had been called,

She had been called a dreamer,

Because indeed she was a dreamer,

A very rare but sure dreamer

And a time came when,

When all her dreams,

All her dreams became a reality,

All those who called her a hopeless dreamer,

Came to know of the power ,

The power that exists in dreaming.