The rider followed her unceasingly,
As horse’s hoofs trampled everything in its way
Knowing not whose help to seek,
She felt breathless, feeble and weak
She ran as fast as she could,
Through the sinister woods

The gem she concealed
Among her clothes and fled
As fast as her feet could carry,
Knowing not where she should tarry

The veiled riders had ruined everything…
She couldn’t hear the birds sing,
Or the leaves flutter in the breeze,
She hurried, not quite at ease,
Worried as the hoofs were drawing near,
For her own life, she did not fear

She held the gem, now stained with blood,
As close as she could,
It was a relic of her tribe’s past,
The only one that did last

She did not know who to revere,
To save her from the agony, severe
The wily rider closed on her
She felt that her end was drawing near,
In the forest she spotted a clearing,
And a voice screaming her name was nearing

The voice seemed familiar,
She ran towards it, with a mind unclear
She knew the woods well,
And remembered playing hide and seek, till twilight fell.

The voice seemed to be her guide
And following it, she knew just where to hide.
She went through the slender path, to the cave
Her favourite hiding place, which did save
Her once again, and she sat there, thankful
Awaiting the sun to spread its rays, bountiful

Not for reproduction.



The sun set on another evening of May,
They played with their toys all day,
They couldn’t have known, they didn’t,
Their grandmother was no more, and they had no hint

One was seven, and the other five
Their mother thought, they were too naïve,
To comprehend this invariable cycle of life,
A man’s destiny, which God, Himself writes

The father thought, they ought to know
The curiosity in their young minds would only grow
The kids cherished her presence, they loved her dearly
She would remain etched in their memory…

The five-year-old tugged her mother’s white sari
And asked, “Where is she, where is dadi?”
The other sat on his father’s lap and looked up at his face
He wondered why his father’s eyes never met his gaze…

The two, old, sullen eyes met each other
How would they tell them about the beloved grandmother?
They stood there still, tongue tied,
How were they to tell them that she had died?

This one is still untitled, I just can’t name it.  Suggestions are welcome.

Not for reproduction.

A Wish

His heart seemed to palpitate, regretfully,
Just to hear that one voice, that would make his day
And let him die peacefully…

It was his birthday today,
He couldn’t decide if he should be happy or sad,
He thought about the last eighty years as he lay

He had lived his life in repentance.
He wondered if his son remembered,
Not having spoken to his kin proved to be a bitter sentence

All that he wanted was forgiveness,
For the deeds that appeared justified then,
But now had transformed his life into a living mess

Something told him, that his wish would be granted,
His conscience pricked the fatuous desire,
He wanted to believe that thought, but it fainted

He didn’t let the tears spoil the postcard, the last one
His son had sent, countless years back.
He lay there, feeling numb and lone

He faintly heard the shrill sound of the phone,
And his cold fingers slowly gripped the receiver as he lay,
His heart thumped hearing the voice’s tone.

God had displayed his benign grace
And fulfilled his last wish
A smile spread across his wrinkled face

But he did not respond, not a word he said,
His heart’s last temptation had been satisfied
He lay, as if cold and dead…

Not for reproduction.

The Phone Call

It was a dark evening this Thursday night,
And as she sat on the green garden grass,
She gazed above and saw a moon, so white,
Glaring right back at her

She held the pendant which read,
‘To My Little Angel’, close to her heart
And remembered her father and what he said,
I’ll always be here for you’.

But it seemed as though the sky, so dim
Told her, something wasn’t right,
There was something, pulling her away from him,
An invisible and mysteriously invincible strength

She didn’t know why, a tear trickled down,
She couldn’t understand why,
Those tears filled her eyes, so brown,
And then unknowingly, began to weep out loud

The night surged on, and there she was,
Without a sound, still holding on,
Wondering why her cries wouldn’t pause,
Why her eyes didn’t dry…

She went astray in the thoughts, of those memories, so sweet
And thinking about those marvellous days she spent
With her dad, made her heart skip a beat
She knew, something wasn’t the way it used to be…

The phone began to ring, in the dead of the night,
Feeling so numb, she ignored the shrill sound,
It rang yet again, so she got up, slowly with all her might,
She walked, slowly to the buzzing receiver.

She greeted the solemn voice, with a meek ‘hello’,
The voice seemed to bring her, the news she dreaded,
The news which made her face turn yellow,
And she insensitively dropped the receiver…

Not for reproduction.

Mountain Lure

The days were sultry in the plains,
All the fans were in vain
And even the light showers of rain,
Did not give us any relief from the pain.

So this year in our summer vacation,
We planned to go to a cool location
A trip to Dehra Dun and Mussoorie seemed a suitable proposition
So we packed up and put our plan in motion.

The ride to Dehra was a steep climb,
But the birds kept us busy with their melodious chimes
The distant lights of Mussoorie shimmered as we went to dine
The cool, refreshing breeze made us feel very fine.

From our windows we saw magnificent snow covered Himalayan peaks
And the orchards of apple, apricot and peach
There were twittering birds with colourful beaks
I knew it was going to be a wonderful treat

The mountain folks had rosy cheeks with gleaming eyes
With innocent lips that never spoke lies
The jolly expression on their face never dies
Like Ruskin Bond characters they came alive

Now when I remember the fields, the meadows and the lush greens,
The swaying trees and beautiful scenes
Those that had inspired Ruskin Bond in his lively teens
All this now seems like an unforgettable dream.

Not for reproduction.