A beautiful soul

She is who she is,
It isn’t something she chose to be
But she’s carrying it out so well
Better than most of me

She is often judged
And often she is labelled
“Nutcase”, “psychopath” & “retarded”
“Ill” and “deranged” and “mad”

They like to call her nicknames
And avoid her at every lane
All remember to bully and harass her
But never does one befriend her

They think she’s insane and a lunatic
But she definitely has got a gift
Her memory it is that astonishes me
As to how can one comprehend so many

She remembers my birthdate always
And wishes me before my fellow comrades
And when she speaks so much innocence flows
Oh what a pure heart and what a pretty soul

Often so ignored she is,
And they talk behind her back so much shit
But she’ll always reproach with a smile
And spread out arms in welcome and warmth

It is not her that’s “bad”
But, people’s mind that’s “corrupted”
Their minds that have now become brains
With so much cunning and so much games

But she still is the same
Like a new born baby
So soft and innocent
She doesn’t see their guile
She doesn’t recognise their plan

And when I first joined,
Everyone was so kind,
to let me know:
“Avoid her and ignore her”
“She’s crazy, and she’s stupid”
“And you definitely don’t wanna be seen with her”

And for some time I did so as i was told
Cause I didn’t wanna be ignored
And becoming an outcast was my fear
And I really wanted to try and “fit”

So, I really did my best
To avoid and to ignore her,
Until one day she walked up to me
With open arms and beautiful smile
And in a sweet tone she said to me
“Hi, I’m Ava! and it’s nice to meet”
It was then when my heart fell
And I felt disgust in my vein
As to how could I have been so deranged
As to how could I be so feared
As to how I couldn’t tell
What could an innocent soul so pure
Do to my pitiful self?

And since then to make up,
For the guilt I felt inside of me
I tried the very best of me
To greet her at every meet

Now years later, when puberty has hit
And maturity has striked
I have now realised
That deranged I was more than her
To have come under the influence of peers

So, now I remember and pray
And I hope that she’s doing well
They then made her an outcast
But little did they know,
they were only making her standout

I also now pray for the world,
I pray for the humanity more than her,
I pray humanity to be more like her
Innocent and pure and beautiful just as her

When did we learn so to judge
When did our minds get so corrupt
When did we feel prejudiced over our conditions
Something we have no control on?

I hope that as we have developed
So will our thinking and our thoughts
And one day the world shall be
All prejudice free.

This poem is from one of my personal experiences at school. By reading it, you must’ve pretty much understood what it deals with. And it’s not really required for me to say more.

Still, I wish to address this issue:
In different ages of my life, I have come across people who are “Special” and no, I am not just calling them special because they’re different, rather because they really are special and very beautiful indeed. But often we take this ‘speciality’ of theirs as a joke, why? because that’s not “NORMAL!” and to fit in well, YOU HAVE TO BE NORMAL, nothing more-nothing less.
Like in this case, this person was perfect, the only thing she didn’t have was the “cunningness”, she wasn’t “wordly”, it wasn’t that she wasn’t smart or intelligent. As a matter of fact, she always scored the top rank in her grade and always won sorts of GK competitions. And as mentioned her speciality was her memory, and no, I am not exaggerating when I say this person not only remembered most of the school’s birthdays but also of their families.

She was a humble and honest soul, with the soft voice like an angel and a peaceful smile she’d always wear. But something that hurt me the most, was how “they” treated her.

Hope you enjoyed reading! See ya next time 🙂

He writes in her memory

It’s been days,
Since last my eyes lay
On the beautiful sight
Of her face

I remember the times I spent with her,
I miss her laugh and I miss her mirth

I miss her now more than ever,
In the harsh winter and cold weather

I hold a picture,of hers, in hands of mine
That I always keep close to my heart, tight

Sometimes, tears roll down my eyes
When I become desperate to see her sight;
To talk to her and hug her tight
And to let her know I will always be right beside.

I pray for her every day and I pray for her every night
But not in a church, temple or mosque
Rather in the heart of mine
Which is filled with love for her all-time

I pray and hope that she’s doing well
I pray that she behaves good
I pray that she doesn’t trouble more
And I pray that she knows,
I will always love her more and more.

Even though it’s difficult to say,
I hope that one day, when I’ll return
I’ll be able to hug her tight
And not just a picture of hers,
In hands of mine
And will be able to stare into
her dark beautiful eyes
And to let her know,
That I’ll always love her more and more

One day when I shall return
I hope she still recognises my sight
I hope that when I return,
I’ll be able to wish her ‘Good Night!’

One day, maybe when I’ll return
She would’ve turned into a lady, very wise
A good human : gentle and nice
And a generous heart with a strong mind.

Still far away I love her smiles
And miss her more every day and night
And I pray for her everytime;
In the generous heart of mine

Hey there! I have written this poem as a tribute to our brave heroes. I have written it from the point of view of a soldier and a father, who on duty serving his country misses his dearest daughter and just has a little wish : to be able to see her daughter one day.

Growing up, there were times when my father lived away from us for work and I would see him once in months. Even though we talked to him frequently, a part of me missed him greatly.

So in regards to this, I can only merely imagine the desire to be home and to be with family that soldiers feel; just like our soldier in this poem.

In today’s world of wars, there maybe soldiers alike, who are away from their little girls and boys and parents and wives and husbands, just wanting to return home, only to see the sight of their beloved ones.

So, a BIG SALUTE TO ALL OUR HEROES! for all that they have been doing : for their sacrifices so that other fathers can be safe with their little daughters. 🙂

Hope you enjoyed this poem 🙂 See you next week!

She has changed, she had to…

She looks different now, not the same old girl.
She is different now, not the same old person
She looks beautiful now, but not as comfortable

All she wanted is attention,
But she never got any,
She wanted to be happy
But she couldn’t be

Wasn’t what she wanted,
But she had no choice
She wished to be accepted
But she never was

All the others teased her
And they said her mean words
She did best to ignore them
But she couldn’t do

Now you see her smiling,
But inside she’s crying
Wasn’t what she wanted,
But, she had no choice

She was at the edge of breaking
And every night she was crying
She went through depression
And took a lot pills

She wasn’t shrewd
But more terrified
Everyone taunted her
And Everything haunted her

And that is what forced her to be
And that is what forced her to change

She didn’t want to fit in,
But just wanted to be accepted
She was scared of being an outcast
And she only wanted to be loved

Now some judge her for being changed
But before she was judged for being the same
And although she never wanted to change
She had no choice

She just wanted to be happy
But she couldn’t be

She looks different now, not the same old girl.
She is different now, not the same old person
She looks beautiful now, but not as comfortable

I got the idea to write this poem, in regards to the personal experience I’ve had.
Such as at times when people have said to me that I looked like a “nice girl”, when I put on a dress and makeup, and whilst this is a purely generous compliment, in the teenage years for me it became a goal to always put on makeup and wear nice dresses whenever going out only because I always wanted to be considered a ‘nice girl’.

It has become the trend of the time, especially with all the stereotypes, that girls have to fit in and be a certain way : they must wear dresses and put on makeup etc. to be well-accepted by peers.
While it’s said that people’s opinion about you shouldn’t matter to you and that you should just be “you”, sometimes we just want to fit in right? I mean no one likes being an “outcast” or being teased for not being “girly” enough………….right?

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! See ya next week 🙂


I am happy
And I want to be
At all times
Smiling with glee.

Don’t wanna be judged
By other’s eyes
I just wanna laugh and smile

Gliding through my way like an eagle,
Flying high and soaring above,
Flying high with freedom in wings
And flying high with a lot of speed

But, still stopping at times
And having fun in between
To enjoy this beautiful thing
That people call “life”

Taking time to appreciate nature,
Taking time to smell some roses,
Taking time to write some poetry,
Taking time to do things I like

Don’t wanna be around people, important,
Wanna be with people that love and care
People who see the good in me
People like my friends and family

I wanna find the reason to be born
Find my purpose and serve it well
Wanna do things that I love
Without being judged or weighed

Criticisms and Quarrels I don’t want any
More like admiration and affection 
And love and peace

Don’t want likes,
But just wanna put out the word
As memoirs of me
When I leave this earth

Just some silly things of me:
Are I like humour and poetry 
And like to store tissue papers
With some notes written on it
I do graffiti on my books 
And daydream to be lost
Love the smell of petrol
And reading things like Othello

Ambition and resourcefulness, my most prized traits
And my brother, my most favrouite person 
I like to play video-games
And like to put my hair in plaits

Yes, life goes at a fast pace,
And time stops for none
But I wanna take time out to appreciate 
Because who knows, if next moment,
I’d still be here to do the same

I wanna make my own name in the world
A name that later shall be remembered 
Wanna change the world for others
Even if it’s few
Then the purpose will be served

At the end of the long day
I just want to be able to say:
I am happy
And I want to be
At all times 
Smiling with glee.

Be happy and always take time out to smile, because you never know, if you will have another moment to.

This poem I just can’t sum up into a brief summary, because it just says a lot on my behalf. But, one thing I can surely say that at the end of the day, all of us want to be happy, right? Just as said by the legendary Shah Rukh Khan :

Aur aaj is baat ka bhi yakeen ho gaya ki humari filmon ki tarah, humari zindagi mein bhi end tak sab kuch theek hi ho jaata hai. Happys Ending! Aur agar theek naa ho to woh ‘The End’ nahi . Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost!. Picture abhi baaki hai.

Movie : Om Shanti Om; Dir. : Farah Khan; Perf. : Shahrukh khan

Translating the above quote in English would mean:
And today I am convinced that like our films even in our lives all’s well that ends well and if something does not end well, it implies that the best is yet to come until Happy Endings.

Hope you enjoyed reading 🙂


Into the blackness, I stare,
Into the darkness, I stare,
Only to see a light of hope
Only to see a light of home

I just wanna be back:
I just wanna be back home once more
But I am lost in my way
And I’m losing my hope

I see nothing ahead,
I see nothing behind,
I don’t see a path that leads
Leads me back to my home

I have now come far away
Far, far away from my home
I look all around me
But not a single familiar sight I see

I now see paths ahead of me,
Paths ahead of me diverged in directions different
I stand there and see as far as one’s eyes can see
But none I see diverges and leads
My pitiful soul back to my home

I don’t want the vanity,
I am about to lose my sanity,
I can no more distinguish the reality
I just wish to be home again
Back to my gravity.

I don’t want to be here anymore,
I wish to travel back on my steps
And return myself back to my home
Back to my home is where I belong

I then suddenly feel a jerk
It felt like my world falling apart
It felt as if the ground was taken away
It felt as if the end of the day

A jerk then again,
hit my head hard
a gush of cold wind
and my heartbeats rise

And then a sound I heard,
A some sweet angel call my name

“It’s time”; “it’s time”, the sweet voice said
Is it time for me to be back home?
“It’s time”; “it’s time”, once more it said

I felt a shiver go down my spine
But then a soft hand on my head I felt
A sweet kiss on my cheek
Another a sweet word on my ears fell:
“Wake up honey, it’s time for you”

So I opened my eyes being brave
Trying to be strong
To face my fate
And I saw a sight:
I was home again
Alas! I was back to my home again.

Home is always a special place to be. It’s a place of comfort and peace. It’s better than all the luxurious hotels and resorts of the world. No matter how big or small it may be, it’s always a beautiful place to confine in, A beautiful place to be. Home is like a small heaven in itself.

After traveling all the places, returning back home : the place where I started from, is always a pleasure.

Hope you enjoyed reading 🙂

Being Real

Yeah, no, deep down we both know:
Who played it well and who played it fair
Deep down you too know that I deserved it more
But guess the flattery was more ornamental than the truth.

It’s said flattery is easy, but always bad
And that the truth is always hard but always good
Then why did the flattery conquer over the truth?
Why was the flattery more praised than the truth?

I’m not complaining, but just sad,
Sad as to why, I wasn’t praised
Sad as to why, my efforts didn’t pay
Sad as to why, I was unnoticed.

So, I feel tempted now to change my ways
I feel why to work hard and why to be true,
When flattery can always pave a way
When a battle can be won more easily.

Cause I don’t think it’s that difficult,
And I think that I too could pose
What I am not
And I too could play along

But, then will I be satisfied?
Will I feel worthy?
Of all that I’ll win
And all that I’ll conquer

Will that victory really be mine?
Or will it just be of the mask that I’d put on?
Will I even be “me” anymore?
Or will I just become one of the many characters?

NO! I’ve come to terms with myself
And I don’t wanna be someone else,
I don’t wanna put on a happy face
and I don’t wanna get all that with a play.

But, I still do wanna win;
But I wanna win my own victory
I wanna be worthy of it
And I wanna be deserving of it

I’ve realised the true beauty in being real
The beauty that cannot be faked,
And I’d rather be crumpled and dry
Than be a fake flower and bloom for all of eternity.

Life isn’t always fair, but that doesn’t give you a reason to be unfair.

We may come across many such situations in life, where life will be unfair to us, where even after putting in our best efforts, we might lose. In this case, lose to “flattery” or “falsehood”. But always remember even though the artificial diamond might seem more shining and appealing to the eye, it will never be real or valued.

You don’t have to mend your ways to win, you have to win on your own terms and be ‘the beauty’. The beauty of being you and the beauty of being true.

Hope you enjoyed reading 🙂


Book in one hand,
Tea in the other,
Hair in the open
And what could be better

I don’t want a tele
Could do well without it;
Don’t need makeup
A bookmark would suffice.

Wouldn’t mind trading
A mansion so big,
With a library full of books
And a kettle full of tea

I would prefer over all luxuries,
The smell of parchment
And candle drippings

Yes, I’d prefer to be a nerd
Than a player;
I’d Rather be a “know it all”
Than the “class cheer”

I’d rather be on my own
And write in a journal
Than be with a group
And be “social”

I still listen to the radio,
And binge-watch in all black & white
And listen to all the classics
And read ‘Pride and Prejudice’

I prefer spending time with meself
But not because I hate to be with you
Rather because I have fallen too much in love with myself

I too have friends so many,
Some brave and strong
And some broken and timid
I have friends with me,
My book pals, ever so dreamy

They say I am becoming “anti-social”,
They say fictional characters aren’t real
Oh they are yes so real, my dear
Only if you knew the magic a book holds

Yes, talking and chitting and chatting might seem fun
But it’s really nothing when compared
To The feel of a roller pen scrape through brown parchment
And the feel of ink being absorbed into the page

I know,
Very well I do know,
That for some I might seem boring and dull
But they haven’t seen the magic that beholds
Maybe you too should once try
To dwell into a book sometime
And I am certain that then you will say
“Oh, I wish I was early at this place”.

Books to me have been magical. Whenever I feel bored or lost, I like to take a book and find myself in it. That is mainly what I wish to express with this poem

Hope you enjoyed reading 🙂

My Solitude

When they meet me,
They say I live reclusively
Do they forget?
It was them that made me to

Every time I’d come along,
You preferred for me to be aside
And when u left me on myself;
My solitary was my refugee

And no! I’m not “shut away”
Neither am I “anti-social”
Nor an “introvert”
Not even “withdrawn” or perhaps “cloistered”

But now,
Is there anything to complain?
I like my space,
I like my solitary life

But not that I’m not a “company-lover”
I am more “convivial” and “jovial”
More like “gregarious”
And “sociable” and “extroverted”

But did I have a full chance to be?
I learned that,
To be in a company, being a company-lover was not sufficient,
The company too must be acceptable towards you

And since the years;
I’ve tried Ways of Google and Ways of Communication
But alas! I’ve always found meself back alone

And for years I did think,
That the fault was all mine
That I was not enough good,
Not enough acceptable,
Not enough gregarious
And so I was left.

But its been time now,
Since I’ve stopped blaming myself
For the ways that others treat me
And I am really okay with it

Yes sometimes I may feel alone or a bit bored perhaps
But I always have myself with me
And I am happy this way too
I have found pleasure in the times I spent with myself.

But that doesn’t mean that I have stopped being an extrovert
Or have coiled myself in
I still go out and meet people
Because maybe one day I might find,
The one I was meant to:
Another one just like me.

My Solitude is a poem, very close to my heart. I was inspired to write this by an incident and many more such former incidents in life, when I was left aside.

Hope you enjoyed reading 🙂