Glitter ...

Behind the golden doors,
Beneath the silver sheets…
She yearned for normal floors
With real food and sweets.

Alas, she needed to maintain
That glass-hour figure.
So she took the diet-routine
And asked her fans to go-figure.

She still waited for that man
Who would take her to the sands.
But she had to come back to that man
Who shredded her to strands.

She craved for some real sleep,
He asked her to get it when she dies.
She craved for a real life,
He always forced her to fake smiles.

She closed her eyes and saw those struggling years,
Those were the times, when she shared a cup and tears.
The small-town girl who wanted to make it big.
And was ready to do even the biggest jig.
She found this cute guy,
Who took her to the beach.
And with his company,
She could not think of breach.

Life did take a turn,
When she sang and pranced in a bash.
She was given this huge break,
By the biggest producer with a splash.
She had to choose between the two,
Either the beach and roses or The bed of roses.
The bed of roses was what she chose,
Not knowing it was full of thorns.
Now she bites her lip in vain,
Not knowing as to how to toss.

She earns all day and night,
As the heart-throb of millions.
She weeps all day and night,
About the wasted bank millions.
She still dreams of those laughs along the spate.
Now all that she has is to laugh at her own fate.

Glitter and gloss are nice from far.
She only hoped she hadn’t gone this far.
The only hope she got is through her songs and album.
To let her stay alive even after her body ceases to hum.
All that glitters isn’t gold.
It would sink in someday, before she grows too old.

The inseparables..

We were these inseparables,
only together for a couple of years.
Lives drifted, took their own paths
Only to realize we haven’t met for years.

We still can go on for hours without a point
And still connect as if we weren’t disjoint.

The bond is musical
Filled with the fondest of teenage memoirs.
The bond is still magical
Filled with the loveliest womanhood secrets.

Those were the days , which were a musical slur.
Now they are nothing but a slight blur.
But yes, we remember each other
Clinging on to one another.

As we look back and fondle
We remember that cute little huddle.
We fought for the silliest things
We cried over those pimple pangs.
We laughed over those cute little movies.
We blushed over those cute flirty fellas.
We wanted to look slimmer
But couldn’t help those guilt trips of hunger.
We wanted to look smarter

something like that superstar.

We fought, we cried,
We laughed, we blushed.
We had a life which didn’t want to end.
Little did we know that rules of life could not be bend.

We sigh, we think.
We get oh-so nostalgic.
But we have our own lives,
Entangled in the net of family jittery jives.
All what remains are those memories,
Which might be relived when our offsprings are off to their sanctuaries.

But it’s time to remember a point,
Be it anywhere,
Friends don’t drift.
It’s only time and tide,
But not the bond that shifts.

PS: This one's for my best friend, Uma. The rest of you guys can dedicate it to your teenage buddy you still connect to. Am sure no one's alone :)

A baby story...

Here came the little prince.
With eyes so wide and a shriek so loud.
While papa got his new toy,
I was all in joy.

I began counting the hours.
Which rolled into days.
They rolled into sleepless nights.
Which turned to nightmares.

For a hundred days,
nights seemed longer.
Suddenly the prince knew what a night was,
And then seemed to ponder.
He stopped wailing at nights.
And showed his pillow what a slumber was.

Then he took his first flight to the Far east.
Trying to flirt with those mysterious little-eyed ladies.
Little did he know he was just months old.
Yet he gave his little own try.

He started crawling, he stopped his cries.
He started eating, He listened to my prayers..
He climbed, he fell.
He surprised me with the stories he’d tell.
Birthdays came. Gifts showered.
He was just beaming with the cake I ordered.

Here comes the stork again.
This time in pink, or so we thought.
Time for some retail gain.
This time in laces, frocks and a pout.

Then came the surprise
As a second little prince.
Were we surprised, we were more than that.
Lest life moved on, with more joy than that.

Life did move on, this time to the Far West.
Where pizzas, burgers and cheese were declared the best.
Life got busier
Life became a routine.
With shorter pants of the prince
Passing on as inheritance.

Now they wave goodbye.
Off they go to learn life.
Order me what to cook.
Also suggest me how to look.

Five years might be long for some.
But for me, have never been cumbersome.
Cried for a while,
Hated for a second,
But loved every moment of this journey.
Without a thought that’s a second.

This is my baby’s story,
Which goes on and on.
Though they wont be kids anymore,
They’ll always be my babies, Come on !!!

The urban gypsy...

Clad in tradition, suffocated with prohibitions
She hoped to break free.

Loathing the domination, hating the devotion,
She resolved to break free.

Tearing away from the nine yards,
Caring for her own tears.
She hit the dusty roads,
And gave into very little cares.

The urban gypsy wouldn’t give in to NO,
She decided to pave her own road.
She bit the dust, got hurt with studs,
But she decided to go on.

The nine yards of sea were used for the windows,
The bangles stayed there for being chic.
The relations went out of the window,
Slowly, she started getting worried sick.

The urban gypsy could not be made...
She decided to go back where she was.
Clad in tradition, wiser with permissions,
She understood that she could break only from the mind, not the body that she has.

The urban gypsy still might exist,
Only in her mind.
Sometimes, she still wanted to sneak out.
Sometimes, she still wanted to come back.
Confused soul that she was,
She decided to rest a while.
Then she sought to her best pal, the pen
And poured her thoughts all at once.

The urban gypsy is no more there.
Since they found it foul.
The urban gypsy is still there.
Only in her soul.

What inspires me ?

What inspires me?

A gush in the wind.
A hush in the ear.
A push on my mind.
A lush green ground.
A mush in the curry.
Or even a toilet’s flush !!!

They inspire me.

A bit of flak.
A piece of luck.
A lot of silence.
A bit of noise.
The dusty roads.
The staring broads.
The look and feel
Of an Indian Toad.

They inspire me.

The cuteness in a baby’s smile.
The coyness in a babe’s smile.
The laziness in my best pal.
The satire from my best gal.

They inspire me.

A tear on my little one’s cheek.
A tear from my little one’s book.
The little stories my little ones tell.
The little stories I tell them.
The little pants they won’t fit into anymore.
The little mittens which won’t be used more.

They inspire me.


The beautiful memories.
The untold stories.
The dollar dreams.
The forgotten realms.

They inspire me.

Everything is an inspiration.
Every move is an exhilaration.

Life is to inspire.
Life is to perspire.
Life is only to give.
Life can never be taken. For Granted.

Inspire !!! Be inspired…..

The wicked me !!

I detest the morning alarm,
I love the morning calm.

I hate to boil milk,
I love the hot coffee.

I hate to wake my cutie pies up.
I love to see them strut their way to school.

I am allergic to the morning sun.
But I prefer sunny days to the cold ones.

I detest dirt.
I love the same talk.

I detest gossip.
I love it as long as it’s not mine.

I detest loud music.
I love hearing boys band.

I detest morning make-up.
But only I know it takes a lot more make-up to be natural.

I hate wrong calls.
But I keep wondering whose dusky voice was that.

I detest mens’ ogles.
But I love their attention.

I hate to leave all white ( bread, rice and all nice)
I love to hate all brown. ( no frown..its only the food)

I detest the gym.
I love to see everyone sweating up. Am not talking about the fairer sex.

I love pets, plants and Prasadh.
I am lazy to maintain them.

I detest hypocrisy.
I love everything about me !!