Friday, 16 June 2017


Illusion or Resolution?

Lost in the desires of heart,
When we leap waves of time,
Little do we realise how frail are dreams...
Upon the petals of your happiness,
They grow and nurture.
Its gradual and its personal.

'Time is a construct...
Time is artifical...' they say.
But it is this invisible weapon,
Which withers away your dreams.
Leaves you empty,
Within and without.
You smile but you learned to contemplate,
You learned to manipulate.
Finally you evolved.
With the ways of the world.

Pain which cannot be seen
One for which words are incomprehensible.
It leaves you hollow yet so full.
Full of visions of awareness,
Full of empathy.
But sans dreams and passions...

Little fellow.
Learn to find solitude.
For its 'you'
And its your journey...
How illusionary or illuminating...
Its your own.
Just let it be.

@ Kanika Kachroo

Monday, 24 April 2017

Venomous Dreams

A heap of sand,
Upon which we build our dreams,
The enchanting magic,
Of desires sweet.
Of expectations humongous,
Time condenses and beholds them.
Upon our heart and in our mind it ages moment by moment.
The mortal mesmerizes in its webs,
But once caught the poison leaves you...
The numbness of the mind doesnt leave,
The venom kills its self image day by day,
And all that is left is 'you'
The serenity of your emptiness.
The stillness of your being.
The understanding of this world,
Its limitations and limitlessness.
And the world within....
The mysticism calls...
But the cries are feeble.
Get overt the animalistic side,
Get over the guilt,
After all 'existence' survives.


Saturday, 4 February 2017

Experiences: The Window: A SHORT STORY

Experiences: The Window: A SHORT STORY: The Window She scrubbed frantically. Her life was an annoyance, she thought. The urge to clean was turning into a habit and this was...


The Window

She scrubbed frantically. Her life was an annoyance, she thought. The urge to clean was turning into a habit and this was not letting her go. Her soul was caged. The defeat inside was an entity itself which dominated her reflections outside.

She fought, incessantly talked, cried her heart out, shouted within the walls and her eyes couldn’t hide the depth of her sorrow. Her face revealed the scars of an invisible battle.
Cleaning her surroundings was a therapy or maybe, it was an illusion for the mind to stay calm. But the demonic creature that mind is, never let her evils go.

Sneha was done with her morning household chores. It was still a few hours before her daughter was back from school. She dreaded this moment. This was the time when she had nothing to keep her mind at bay; the solitude that she endeared at one time was obnoxiously dreadful at this present moment. With a heavy heart she settled at her usual place, the corner sofa seat and dazed out of the window. The barren land with bits of nature’s overwhelming beauty left looked to her as a reflection of her life. Her gaze was turning intent as moments were passing; her face which had signs of surrender and toil suddenly became stoned. Her eyes were gaining intense depth and face was expressionless.

She was an obedient child, a fun loving girl and an ‘A’ grader at school. Parents and family were proud of her achievements but what she couldn’t gather in long years at school was friendships. College also journeyed through her life sans friends. She never felt the need, her solitude, an ability to connect with varied thoughts and imaginary worlds in books kept her engaged. The only thing that she couldn’t comprehend was the world outside, what people called ‘real’. She did, what her mind felt at the moment was right, but she could never be a part of  herd, her mind just couldn’t connect with the fact of being in a group and do nothing except follow the most favourite.

Sneha had a world built up from books all around her; a ‘ Moby Dick’ rushing through crazy waters, a ‘Heidi’ jumping in snow, a ‘David Copperfield’ poor and introvert but full of individual consciousness. A ‘Shiva’ or a ‘Krishna’, or a ‘Vaishnavi’ from  Amar Chita Katha making mythology heroic. A ‘ Hamlet’ or a ‘Macbeth’ making sad and depressed , an art, a glorification of negativity , they,  and many others  in those unconquered corners of books, never inspired her to follow the group. But all of them motivated her to find herself, a thinking of her own, but what she didn’t learn here in these books was the mundane and the tact of handling average or to become average.

School and college left her untouched but her fictional world kept her alive. Marriage happened and as if the adventure was not over, a new world erupted. This world wanted her to be sparkling and fresh, full of love, not to think but to follow status quo and encounter questions and gazes which were alien, cold and unfathomable to her world. She felt so empty from inside. Stomach churned and brain moved speedily through the visuals outside.

“Sneha you cannot wear this, it’s so dull”, “You are married now, where is your bindi and sindoor”, “jewellery, the new bride is without jewellery, what’s happening!!!”,… “Shall we go inside”, “you can’t say whatever you feel”, “be silent-silence is gold, be beautiful that’s a trait, be sombre mentally but be loud in your appearances and always do what pleases others”.

Her mind drooled, shook hard, temples started burning and head was paining badly. And the intense pain jolted her back to reality. The tick -tick of clock made her realize she had travelled too much in the past. It was time to grasp the present. The bell rang and she got up and opened the door and a dazzling smile and a warm hug was waiting for her. This 10 years old bundle of joy was wobbling with lots to talk and grab her mother to the core.
As soon as Sneha realized her happiness was back, the face that looked so drawn out and tired and defeated sparkled with hope, love and laughter.

She got engaged again with the lunch formalities, and then the little girl, her motivation rolled herself up in the cosiness of her bed and animated world and left mommy to be on her own once again.

Sneha after finishing up the afternoon chores went back to her standard seat, the sofa near the window and stared outside once again into the hollowness outside and inside her soul…

Monday, 5 December 2016

Grown out of the desires;
Grown out of the dreams;
Grown out of craziness;
Sifting through the memes,
Trying to have that momentary smile.
Exploring all the spirituality,
that the digital baba throws.
One moment of catastrophe.
One expression of stillness.
One expectation which remains
At last its the journey ,
And its your own...
Its what will bring the deconstruction ...
It will bring you.

Tuesday, 18 October 2016

The ways of the world stand unchanged,
Shallow waters and deep valleys,
Muddy puddles and dark skies,
Leaning upon acceptance,
Stands an uninhibited soul...
Waiting to be diluted,
To be ravaged and dealt with.
She contemplates, ponders, philosophizes,
Imitates and adorns unreal.
The happiness is lost...
The real is forlorn and secluded.
Paradox is she, and she is a paradox,
Emotions, Connections and intimacy
Strongly built brick by brick.
But Serenity lost between the mortar.
Sad is a quotient.
It is not her identity.
She cries and wails with a smile,
Amber turns her eyes sparkle...
To the world she is a beauty.
A name recognizable.
A person definable.
But deep underneath...
Stands the little one
undefined and illusionary...
Wrenched from within,
When the without holds aloof...
Practical becomes ferocious,
And refuses to let go self...
Within those confines of viciousness,
When the battle of mind soars and soars...
It doesnt hear nor does it feel,
It just wants to retain its creation...
Little self moves outside,
Takes a ride and fills the aura...
With a handful of hope,
And a mesmerising sight of humanity around,
Twinkling lights and lost dances of soul.
The bundle of trinity finds solace...
Eternal peace and boundless joy,
Within the mundane around.
Praise the customs.
The culture and its bindings.
The human chaos around...
The emptiness within and the silence outside
The errie restricts...
Come what may,
The intelligentsia say...
Experience has taught
Time has touched the essence ...
Commonality prospers...roars and soars