• Poems,  Social Awareness

    #JusticeForAsifa

    In what world do we live? Is it the hell that we reside in? What did we do? What were our sins? That we are surrounded by demons, As in our people, our kith, and kin. I wonder what a kid would have done. A young life with dreams within, She must be had hopes to change the world, But how in seconds, her existence got changed by the evil. My mother held my wrist, Right before opening the main door, Handled me my weapons, Didn’t let me go without my armor, The fear of her killed our freedom, Hindranced our ways, Chained our hearts; the fear of demon. Life…

  • Poems

    The Dream Road

    Hey everyone! This one is about a girl who has two options in front of her. One is wanted by her, other by her kith and kin. Let’s see what she chooses.   In front of her, There were options two. One to shine in the eyes of the known, Other to make her hero of her own. Less traveled the path another was, And hectic the road not of her dreams was. The path she wanted to choose, Did nothing but stare, Against to which she was, People pushed her into its sphere. The push was in the path unwanted, The other was as free as air. Oh, how…

  • Poems

    Victims of Inhumanity

    The poem is dedicated to people who are suffering the crisis in Syria. The speaker of these lines is a child who was killed in the war. The poem is written in the form of an address to his mother who died too. Agar khul jaaye neend tumhari, Toh mujhe bhi jaga dena maa, Kaafi chhote khaai hai maine, Zara marham unn par laga dena maa, Sehma mera mann hai maa, Thoda, thapthapa dena, Zakhm nahi par, dard jaega, Tumhare sparsh se, Shayad mera dard kam ho jaega maa. Garam swadishth khaana, Apne haatho se bana dena maa. Bhook lagi hai bahut, Tum pyaar se khila dena maa. Pehle ki…

  • Poems

    Words Of An Unborn Child

    In the womb of the mother, Inside my first home, I feel so loved, I feel so secured. Contented with the love Showered by my loving ones, I kick a little harder, Look, how happy they have become! Says dad, he will be a football-er. I wonder how my father knows I am he? My identity is even unknown to me. I may be a boy they adore or a girl of whom they never thought. Every now and then there’s a hand to caress my shield, to show love to; to bless, my little body in the building process. They care, and love me a lot, wish, I reach…

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