To the unanswered questions

Unlike the questions which have a definite, set answer, you my dear, are a mix of uncertainty, unpredictability. And of course, the guts I require to face you…phewww….. The questions left unanswered, on my blank answer sheet, on my text to him, in the eyes of my bestfriend, you always, always invoke a sense of guilt and repentance. A ‘what if?’  A never ending quest to find a answer, and running away from it at the same time. My dear unanswered questions you are a source of constant turmoil and an answer in yourself!!!


IDK if this makes sense or not 😐

The Girl On The Last Bench

Today I finally observed you, sitting on the last bench, totally engrossed in ‘The Pride and Prejudice’. You were probably oblivious to the boy sitting on the bench next to you or to the girls singing on top of their voices on the first bench. And just when I thought you were to preoccupied for the world outside, you smiled at the literary remark someone in the middle row made.

We never had a conversation except the one time you were my subject for the psychology project. You were really slow to answer my tasteless questions. And dear you were cautious too, placing each of your words perfectly one after the another. I was in awe of the way you speak. You are just like me an avid reader.

Perhaps you have learned from Elizabeth Bennet, how not to make hasty decision and how to appreciate the difference between essential and superficial. Maybe like Alaska you too have a hurricane inside you, like Atticus Finch you too delete the adjectives to have your facts strong and solid. Like Katniss you have internal conflicts but you too know, just like her, hopes live on.

Most likely I will keep on guessing things about you and never ask you anything,

-A girl just like you.

p.s. Elizabeth Bennet is the protagonist in the book Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austin), Alaska in John Green’s book Looking for Alaska, Atticus Finch of To Kill a Mockingbird, Katniss of The Hunger Games series.

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To books📖📖

Here is to my first love.

I remember when i was 7 being handed over “the three lazy lions”. ‘Who gives a book for b’day, mum dad!! ‘ was my first reaction. Little did i know my journey to the world of books started. After few days after completely forgetting about the gift, i stumbled upon it again. And to my surprise, i gave it a reading,

Now that i look back, am amazed how that b’day gift, opened to me a completly new world-The World Of Books.

Yes there are days when i do not want to even touch a book and on others i read for 24hours straight. Some days i read for the heck of it, and on others the words start flowing in the viens. Somedays i find a book thats so amazing that i am startled by its expression, and on others i just have to go in a trauma for completing it. Somedays you’ll see a really famous book in my hand and on other a book you haven’t even heard of.

That’s the thing about books,

They make you fall in love with themselves, and also never leave

-📚 📖Kriti

To Father

You taught us how to stand for ourselves for those who are weak

How to find strength on the days when we were feeling low,

there are days when you come back home a little drunk and you start talking from how the machine works and end at the philosophies of life,on those days you also tell us how much you love us ,concealing this fact always when you are sober,

you never scolded us your tch-tch has been enough to give us a jitters down the spine.

you didn’t raise us like sons, you never felt the need too cherishing us and our childhood all the way along, you made us your little princesses

Now that we have grown up and started understanding the part and parcels of life, i want you to stay by our side.

p.s. you are my superhero papa.



The Hanging Tree

From the ‘Mockingjay’

‘Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.

Strange things did happen there

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the Hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.

Strange things did happen there

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the Hanging tree,

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.

Strange things did happen there

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the Hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the Hanging tree’

So this was stuck in my mind since so many days. What does this poem means. At the forst reading it seems the guys is trying to meet his beloved secretly at midnight near the tree where he was hanged for murder. But this has something more in it. Maybe the murders lover had something to do with the killing. It’s not until the third verse “The Hanging Tree” begins to get unnerving. You realise the singer of the song is the dead murderer. He’s still in the Hanging tree. And even though he told his lover to flee, he keeps asking if she’s coming to meet him. The phrase ‘where i told you to run so we’d both be free’ is the most troubling. Because at first you think he is talking about when he told her to flee, presumably to safety. But then you wonder if he meant for her to run to him. To death. In the final stanza, it’s clear that that’s what he is waiting for. His lover with her rope necklace, hanging dead next to him in the tree.


What do those eyes tell you?

Do they give you the insight of her mad world,

Or they make you fall in love with the world.

Do they tell you about the chaotic mess in her,

Or let you drown in the depths of her brown eyes.

Do they make you remember all those time when you felt beautiful,

Or simply make you their ardent reader.

What do those eyes do to you?



Really a random post. After a long time.

It’s 2 P.M.

The heat outside being intolerable,

And the tears uncontrollable.

With a trembling hand, swollen eyes and a deep aching heart, I began to write.

But what?

Silence is what surrounds me and thoughts are being crumbled like a paper.

With listless eyes I look around.

What should I write?

A paragraph, a story, a poem?

What will comfort me?

With a whole lot of effort I put down my pen to write,

And the paper stays just the way I feel,




You know what he is beautiful, ya beautiful not handsome cause his beauty is skin deep.

The dusky girl, gosh! She looks beautiful when she peeps outs of her world with child like curiosity.

The newbie mother, she is beautiful when she flaunts her stretchmarks, afterall they are the first drawing of her child.

The girl behind the specks she is beautiful when she solves her maths problem. Oh! the glow she gets is stunning.

How beautiful he looks when he laughs blissfully.

The crippled kid looks so beautiful when his little brother hugs him.

Granny feels beautiful when grandpa still flirts with her like a teenager.

To a daughter her old ageing father s no less than a supermodel. He is beautiful.

Our beauties just need to be discovered.

Women’s Day

For one whole day the guy at the corner won’t eye her while she is going to the college. The one at the bike won’t pass vulgar comments on the girl standing at the bus stop. Today her parents won’t worry even if she comes late from work. They won’t be afraid to send her to school in the next village. The 7 year old’s cloth won’t prove to be provaking. The neighbours won’t judge her because she has male friends. She’ll have access to sanitary health. She’ll not be considered impure when she is on her periods. Today she and her brother will get equal freedom. She won’t have to sacrifice her career and job just to get married. Bearing kids will not bw her ultimate goal. For just one whole day it’ll be a perfect world for her.

Because it’s WOMEN’S DAY, right?


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