A.V

“Dad, what should I make for dinner?” she asked. My daughter, twenty-one now, standing in the kitchen with tired eyes and a wooden spoon. “Get ready,” I replied, pushing myself off the couch. “We’re going out.” “Where to?” “Well, what do you feel like eating? Pizza? Paneer? Or maybe... dosa?” She thought for a moment. “Dosa it is, then.” A few minutes later, we were getting ready. I stepped into the hallway and paused at the sight of her. “Oh dear,” I said, trying to hide my instinct behind a warm voice. “You’re not going to wear that, are you?” She groaned. “Ugh, Dad. Why not?” “The skirt’s too short. Wear a kurti.” She sighed dramatically, but turned and went back into her room without a word. Outside, the sky was restless. The clouds flashed above. The wind was cold, and not a single star was visible. It was going to rain, one of those long, thoughtful rains. Then Lily emerged, dolled up, in a light blue kurti, earrings catching the dull hallway light, and her long hair le...

We never really interacted in person. We grew together, but seprated  The friend group split as soon as it was formed— COVID was the reason. Then, in the blink of an eye, 11th came. Classes divided, And our conversations, once alive in chat, Fell silent. Even now, we’re growing, trying to keep this little group alive. And yet, as we grow, so dose my Insecurity. I don’t know how to tell stories, How to put a smile on someone’s face. I’m just Brother Boring— The one who listens, The one who gets awkward, A side character standing in the background. Maybe that’s why it grows, this feeling, Because I’ve seen you with others— Laughing, goofing off, Snapping pictures, And I know how you feel. Yes, we had a strange past. But that doesn’t trouble me. I don’t think I’ll ever send this to you. But if you find it, You don’t have to say or do anything. Just live freely, dear soul. And when your wings feel heavy, I’ll always be here to listen. A.V

Eyes filled with sleep, Mind too dozing down, Cold eating away my feet. The monotonous life of study— Even that has stopped. Finding motivation, Spending days wondering, Wasting life, Wasting youth. These colors of youth have shown me many things. From love drama to fights, From euphoric moments to flooding nostalgia. From self-hate to self-love, Then back to self-hate. From the long days of boredom to the fleeting feeling of time. From relying on others to doing everything alone. A.V

 Sometimes I wish that all my thoughts could be logged automatically somehow. It would make a great book and take much less effort. Then I suppose all my secrets and lies would be shown to the world, and how cowardly I am. It's a thought that only comes when I can't write down the poem or thought I am weaving in my mind. I am a hypocrite. Even though I don't like lies, I deceive like a sly fox to avoid situations I despise. I guess I have been quite skilled at avoiding things, like when guests come. I lower my gaze, wear a gentle smile, and speak only select words. Rarely do I see people eye to eye—they live in my periphery. Cowardly enough, I don't even make prolonged eye contact with my parents. I am not the domestic type; I am the type to be left alone on a mountaintop, in a wooden shack I call home, with no one close by. I fear my own future. I wonder if I'll be able to manage family matters. I hate surprises and humans, though for humans, I think the hate comes...

Caught a cold, and even though I have a stuffy nose, mild cough, Strained eyes, and an aching brain, This moment heals me. Have taken the meds, Again I sit at my desk, In a dimly lit room, With Lofi songs filling the air, Hugging my tender shawl, I study in a cosy atmosphere. Away from screens and stimuli, This moment heals me, just like sleep. A.V

I don’t know why, but I know how I feel. It feels as if— I’ve returned home, after a long adventure, full of ups and downs, with whispers of nostalgia. To my little paradise in the mountains, where birds chirp, and the air sings, wrapped in the quiet relief of home. As if I’ve finally bathed after a weary journey, as if I hold a dear hand close, as if I’m lulled by the lazy sloth of a warm afternoon. Perhaps it’s the weather, this gentle blame I place— but I wish, at life’s end, to be engulfed once more by this same tender embrace. A.V

Fluffy clothes now softly sway, Fog descends, a silver gray. The wind grows crisp, a chilly tune, While the sun’s allure begins to bloom. Heavy quilts on warm beds lie, Shielding dreams beneath the sky. A breath of frost fills lungs with chill, The heart ignites, alive with thrill. Upon my two-wheeler, I glide, Cold air strikes, yet warmth resides. The sun’s embrace, a gentle balm, A fleeting moment, pure and calm. A.V

Crawling out of the quilt's warm embrace, A dimly lit room greets the flowing darkness. Freshened up, a cold bath clears my mind, Hair washed, ready to unwind. Then, I sit at my desk, wrapped in a dear shawl, Its embrace tender. The speaker hums as my phone connects, Lo-fi tunes softly fill the quiet, Lit only by my study lamp. Books open, I lose myself in the flow; hours pass. The light of dawn creeps, eager to grace This gentle haven—my sacred space, Where learning and growth define my day. Slowly, the quiet shifts— From serene stillness to chirping birds, Barking dogs, and stirring neighbors. The slow morning sets the rhythm, A peaceful prelude to a purposeful day. A.V

She sits at the front of the study room, Committed from three to six, not a word leaving her lips. Her eyes fixed, steady, never wandering to the whispers and sounds around her. A life so much like mine I see myself in her. And surely, she has friends, friends with whom she laughs like there’s no tomorrow, with whom she feels unjudged, unburdened. We play a game of glances, each caught in our own orbit, studying. She stays in my periphery, a figure I never fully turn to, as my eyes are fixed, too, on the pages in front of me. I cherish this silence, this quiet shared presence. We study together, in silence. With not even a glance at each other. Then she gets up and leaves. While I smile to myself, thinking… She glows in my mind's eye. I haven’t even broken the ice. If only circumstances were different, I might have pursued a friendship, but here, I just sit, content to wish, though even that feels hard to admit. A.V

The raag Jhinjhoti hums softly in my ear, While the santoor of the evening  gently plays in my mind. Before me, fluid mechanics lie open, The queue of questions long and winding, Yet my thoughts, like a wandering stream, drift astray. The warmth of the setting sun  creeps into the chilled room, Its rays sneaking through gaps, To rest softly upon me, as though meant for me alone. But October's chill has arrived The waters, like the air, have grown cold. Still, there is calm in this coolness, And the sun’s touch thaws my little frozen self. Though winter’s breath may be icy, I find warmth in its depths. A sparkle lights my eyes, Serenity fills my heart. Nd while all study deeply,  I take a moment to think. How peaceful this little time is. An excite takes over as I wait For winters warm winds flow. A.V

The rain falls steadily, not soft but persistent. We argue over small things, our words tinged with panic. Yet, our eyes still shine with innocence, Laughter escapes as the rain gently kisses my face. For a fleeting moment, he and I are back in kindergarten, Carefree and unburdened, even just for a little while. A.V "He was convincing me to eat chole kulche while we were standing under the still raining rain.”

Drizzle falls like whispers of snow, Grey clouds above, a gentle glow. The roads reflect the world’s slow dance, While cold winds nudge me in a trance. I drive, but barely feel the wheel, Lost in thoughts too deep to heal. Eyes blurred with tears, they fall, they flow, But the face remains, a silent show. Cars rush by, the world moves fast, Yet here I stay, the moment lasts. The heart, it aches, the mind resists, Yet sorrow in this rain persists. Under clouds, beneath the grey, I drive through winds that seem to say: Keep moving, though you're far away, Lost in the storm, but not to stay. A.V

It has been a long day, it's 3 AM. Coming home from a party with a friend. It's spring, not too warm, not too cold, but flowers are in full bloom. In the night, insects fill the serene air around us. Warm streetlights shine from above, bringing comfort to our hearts. Her white cotton kurti swayed, teasing my hands. Her hair rested, carrying the scent of roses. She hopped from foot to foot with elegance, her heels tapping the ground silently. The bangles ringing calmly as her hands flowed.     My hand felt a cold drop. My gaze moved toward my hand, then to her face. Her eyes glistened under those warm streetlights. She hurriedly wiped away the lost trails, sniffling. Then, giving a serene smile with big teardrops hanging from each eye, soft as petals, her peach lips said, "Sorry... just give me a moment," chuckling in between.     Her face turned away from me, swinging those silver earrings. She kept weeping, yet tried to hide all the tears. Sometimes I wonder if I ha...

Lights out. Darkness reigns across the room. It’s midnight, and the mind is still thinking. A memory— shoon deep blue. Tears flowed before I noticed. The body chills. The heart aches. Then, a sound— pitter patter on the windowpane. Thunder roars. Wind teases the curtains. Cuddled in a quilt, I tighten my embrace, holding the pillow close to my chest— feeling the rain pat my soul… endearing. When sleep took over, I don’t know. When the tears dried— I don’t know. But I know this: The scar still aches. A.V

Season's first rain, Petrichor's delight,   Pitter patter echoes through the night.   Fogs on the glass, breaths we share,   Feet rub mud, with grit and care.   Umbrellas bloom, a rainbow bright,   Memories flood in with the sight. Green trees, dustless, fresh and new,   Little ponds where insects brew.   Reflecting worlds, a mirrored view,   Wet clothes cling, heavy too.   Shoulders sag, the weight we bear,   Dark bags like clouds, full of despair. Tears, fall freely, in the rain,   No one sees your silent pain.   Flashbacks hit, a familiar ache,   Thunder roars, hearts that break.   Oh child, release your silent cries,   No one sees through rainy skies. A.V