Days pass by

and I sometimes


Why do we do

certain things?

Helping an old man

to cross the street

and helping a child

who has lost his way.

Perhaps, for the

love of mankind

and sympathy

towards one another,

that we go forward

to extend

a helping hand

even to a stranger.


[Published in the e-journal ‘Induswomanwriting.com’ in January 2014 issue]



She kept awake

whole night long,

her eyelids

refused to bow

and a thought


round and round.

Seconds, minutes

and hours gone,

slumber stood

at the threshold,

the moon sailed

through the sky

reflecting light

all around

but her thought


round and round.

She felt miserable

and it seemed as if

huge black curtains

were forcefully

pulled before her,

blocking her vision

of radiant light,

leaving her

farthest behind,

leaving her

all alone,

all by herself.


[Published in the e-journal ‘Induswomanwriting.com’ in November 2013 issue] 


Dark clouds of depression

loomed in her mind,

followed by long sighs,

accompanied by sobs.

Few minutes later,

came a heavy downpour

of salty water,

continuing for an hour.

The clock ticked

and as the cell beeped,

a smile peeped

through the wet cheeks.

Had she gone out of her mind

or was there a reason for it?

A misunderstanding?

A coincidence, that’s it!

The name announced on media,

a deceased victim of the blast,

matched with the name

that was close to her heart.

Relief approached

as she answered the beep,

sent to her by one

who was close indeed.


[Published in the e-journal ‘Induswomanwriting.com’ in September 2013 issue]


Dreams began to wane

as she faced distress

and she proclaimed

there were lots to express.

Physical tortures

day in and day out,

character assassination

by holding doubt.

Restrain imposed

on pursuing her career,

severe criticism

for not being fair.

Harassment by

demands of dowry

and an heir

on the first delivery.


Her endurance one day

lost the bound

and extreme courage

she finally found.

To get rid

of the evil monster,

she sprinkled pesticide

in a fried lobster.

Hours later,

the neighbours gathered,


they all murmured.

None suspected

it to be a mystery,


she sighed silently.


[Published in the e-journal ‘Induswomanwriting.com’ in July 2013 issue]