Locally dorky

Shastri Parivaar had been the same since generations. It was the ideal family for an onlooker, but what went on in the household was only known to people who belonged to it. Uma Shastri, the mother , had given birth to two kids. She used to do household work all day for her children. But, got no appreciation. She was suffocated within the house. The son, Prabhat Shastri, had been a gem when he was born. He was the most adorable being on the planet back then. But, he hadn't grown up that well and had turned into a bully and a spendthrift who would spend money on useless luxuries all day since no one had ever controlled his actions. He was, after all, the 'Prince' of the family and was pampered throughout. The family also consisted of Seema Shastri, the sweet daughter who was a dreamer. Seema had big dreams and deep thoughts. But, her voice had been silenced by her own family. Her soul was locked away and she couldn't express as she was expected to marry and settle

In the darkness She was the burning fire; Among all zombies She was a speck of humanity. The speck that was little, But that was but strong ; For she didn't have to search For feelings through books and songs. She was connected within, She was the personification Of awareness and hope , For a posterity of thinkers. But alas around her Had always been robots , And robots did not feel They were programmed to be selfish. So while she still cared She let them get the best of her ; She let them suck away her feelings , Conditioned to be empty within. For what is generation Z if not hollow , The hollow that even hollowness swallows . They search for happiness everywhere, But don't think to search within themselves. They are plagued to be empty And that plague they won't stop spreading.

The dew drops have just fallen from the sky and it is somewhere between late night and early morning. I see her there and she is a constant. Always sitting on the same bench in the park. Just sitting there , lost in thoughts. There have been lots that have known her. But I have known her inside out. For while people have known her achievements and some petty secrets, I know everything. I know her sins and her guilts. There is no secret she could ever keep from me. So, I know about her , something that no one else knows . I know how she was humiliated and bullied all her life for she was the one who never raised her voice. I know how people left her when they found someone better. I saw her get crushed and thus I saw her drink her pain out that night. The pain mixed with the vodka had become so heavy that it had taken a toll on her brain. The girl that had always kept her calm, now let her demons out and the demons were out of control. So , in her intoxication she killed one of

Dear murderer, I had always walked with you From your very first step. I had been there beside you As a friend and sometimes a foe. I saw you get that naughty smirk; A desire to throw pebbles at the neighbour's dog. So I stopped you And you were good enough to comply back then. Such a sweet kid you had been But, then you had to grow up . Oh! The gruesome way in which you did For you didn't care for anyone but yourself. I saw you throw away all those Who would chide you for they care. I saw you fall for the boy Who you knew treated you like an object. I saw you indulge in all vice And get in the worst company. But, this time when I tried to stop you , You didn't listen but instead attacked. You caged me up And took away my freedom. My only companion which was you Wouldn't listen to me anymore. You wouldn't even visit me And would starve me of affection. So I finally gave up And I was suffocated to death. Here I am now Sti

First day of college, Observant eyes looking my way. It was to my knowledge An impression of mine they would have made. I was but eager for a companion When a figure from faraway, Her last name Manger, Walked my way with polite grace. "For this is your first day, Let me introduce you some I know" she said, "For a year older to you I run". I nodded and Listened to my guide, Half glad to befriend Someone older to me and wise. "That girl" she signalled "Seems great, But that doesn't configure For her ever growing weight." "He is bold But through his shirt You can see his bones" She pointed at him a finger curt. "They are fun to be around But their lousy apparel Depicts poverty profound." Her words for a group singing carols. "He looks like someone to follow But on the inside He is but hollow" Of him she had heard from time to time. "With her I have never conversed She l

The mirror had always called Snow White the fairest. Snow White had loved it dearly and had carried it with her even after getting married to the Prince. She would rarely ask it 'Who is the fairest of them all' like the evil queen did, but she loved it dearly because it always spoke the truth. The mirror thus stayed in the family even when Snow White gave birth to her daughters. There were four of them and all of them were beautiful. Three of them were however, unlike Snow, quite obsessed with the way they looked.  Whenever they asked the mirror the classic question ,that had been asked time and again ,'Who is the fairest of them all?' ,the mirror would choose the youngest daughter who had never even cared about how she looked and was just as fair as the others were or perhaps even a little less beautiful than they were. The daughters tried to know what was so special about the younger one. Amongst them, she was the one who cared least about how she looked. She wou

Her little bubble burst And out came reality. On all she trusts Remained little clarity. The bubble was filled  Of joys and happy endings Around her they chilled For a share of the sweet candy. The bubble gave her many best friends Who would praise her for whatever she was; Few who were but brutally frank Who wouldn't butter her up for all cost. But the bubble ,like it always does, burst When it reached the ground below. All the besties ran away first And left behind were the blunt fellows. She swore not to listen To the plain spoken who did not praise For she still believed she could glisten The bubble back to shape. She went as far as she could To live the lie which had but died. All that could be done she would For the luxury had taken toll on her mind. She would try to get back the bubble With all wrong tries, While the life she had had turned into rubble And reality for her had become a lie. So reluctant

Courage . What is it ? Is it a something we create ? Or is it within us? I say it's a mixture of both. There have been people who have left me alone when I needed them the most. To me , courage is being alone and meeting all challenges all by myself. At first you always feel the brunt of the loneliness but later you just get used to it and stop getting bothered by those people who clearly shouldn't matter to you. Facing the world alone takes nerves and that bravery comes with time. There are also always going to be people who try to show you down all the time. Those people can never tolerate your success and yet you put up with them just because you don't want to loose them and they are important to you. It's like blind and impaired love. Courage is finding the voice inside your heart and not letting them control the reins to your life. Courage is finding that respect for yourself which is greater than your love or obsession with this person who doesn't respe

Hello, people of the world. So, its 2017 and I am sure while all of our lives have changed, there have been things in the world which should have changed and haven't. One such important thing is the condition of the environment at the hands of us i.e. humans. So, here is a poem I have written with the help of two of my college mates. The poem is in the perspective of a tree and its condition through ages. Here it goes, I live in a rain forest Which had been filled with greenery, Before humans, that had once been modest, Sliced my brethren for their gluttony. They processed the wood of their trunks' To make paper and benches in classrooms. The instruments which provided chunks Of wisdom to create of children, an intelligent platoon. They use us like they used  us then, To make progress with their race. The difference however is felt In how us, for themselves they efface. Their once was a time wherein Famous sages would rest under my foliage And teac