December Rain

The December rain makes me feel solitary
It lacks the warmth of the March rain
And the tenderness of its July cousin
Or the freshness of its August sister
It comes unexpected, unlike its September sister
And snatches a part of its November sibling
Just to add more chill to its demeanor.

But I have never seen it complain of its short life span
Or the fact that its existence depends on another season
Which is why I eagerly await it every year
And when it comes, enjoy the solitude that it has to offer.
                                                                                                  - Disha Wahi.

Winter Rain...Once again

The Winter Rain feels like monsoon
The wind reminds me of spring
The wet soil gives a feeling that frogs might be around somewhere
The clouds might clear and reveal a rainbow, even in the dark of night.

You might think I have lost it!
But that is just the beginning of my recovery
And not the end of my insanity....
                                                                                                                 -Disha

The Nature of Fire - In its own words

I tried to be water
Creating my own path
Engulfing fertile lands
Forming breathtaking features on the globe
Encroaching the place where there used to be a villager's hut
Home to a million fish
Hope of a suicidal farmer and his family

But I could not
As I refused to be captured by a concrete dam
Because I cannot lose my dignity at the hands of tons of waste
And because I find my esteem diminishing if the clouds cannot bear my burden
and shower me on barren deserted lands
Where malnourished children await me with eagerness.

I tried to be air
Touching each living and non living soul
Flowing across the leaves of a still tree
Evaporating the sweat off a laborer's forehead
Or the moisture from the strands of wet clothes lined in a queue
Teaching a kite how to fly
Entangling a pretty lady's open tresses

But I could not
Because I don't want to blow dust into a passerby's eyes
Because I have never wished to be controlled by a ceiling fan or a cooler
And I have never wanted to become PA to monsoon or spring

I tried to be earth
Promoting growth of some extremely enchanting daisies and sunflowers
Promising a better harvest of wheat each year
Providing a strong foundation for buildings and structures
Becoming mother to all

But I could not
Because I cannot afford to become a junkyard
Because I cannot manifest myself into so many forms as dust, soil and sand, and still look the same
And because I cannot stand the thought of the rich confiscating me and the needy dying on my surface

So I feel I am satisfied being fire
Enflamed with shades of yellow, red, orange 
If you play with me
Beware! You might harm yourself
If you want to go to war
I shall be your weapon
If you are hungry
I shall provide you with a meal well cooked
If you are cold
I shall give you all the warmth unasked for
If you want to celebrate
I shall light your candles
If you want to die
I will be the one to lead you to God.

My nature might be fiery,
Crude, raging or passionate
But you might be misleaded if you think that I am brutal
And if you are still afraid of me
Then you are free to go my friend
But do not return with an intent to change my nature
As I might char you in the process
Just as you would do if I would try to change your nature....
                                                                                                                      - Disha

Tracing hidden lines

It's the story of every young, urban middle class Indian girl, whose ultimate dream is to make a mark and to prove her worth to everybody around her, since the day she's born. It's the journey of her life.
I hope most of the readers, especially the girls, are able to relate to it.


Where did she go?
That bubbly little school girl with two little pigtails
Carrying a bag twice her weight
Happy that she will get to eat ice cream when she returns home in the afternoon
Excited about the summer vacation and the drama classes
Memorizing her lines for the Annual Day function
Studying hard to get good marks
Fares well in +2
Worried about admission to a respectable university
She wants to make her parents proud.

Where did she go?
That young college girl in her first semester
Happy that she could get through the entrance exams!
With a jhola on one side and a drafter on the other
She likes traveling to her college everyday
Cellphone, laptop and books are her companions now
Friends have become an essential part of her life
Struggling to get her focus back on studies
Amidst the numerous fests and events
She manages to steer through her last semester with good marks
Gets a well- paid job even in the time of recession
And that makes her think she is happy.

Now that she has finally achieved everything in life
Has tasted corporate life
Has put on stake everything she has got to reach there
Has learnt to thrive in a society that wants her to get married....

She embarks on a journey, backwards-
"Something was missing....Something is missing", she feels
And that something will always be missing....
Because that Something is her own footsteps
She has been walking on her own feet all this time, that's true
But it's amazing that there are no marks left behind to remember or to be remembered by
No records of the existence of her soul
No dreams, no fulfilled wishes
So her journey cannot be traced anyhow, anymore.....

In The Park- Another evening of hope and nostalgia

This time it's the rain,
Makes me nostalgic once again,
In these moments of loneliness,
Comes a rush of feelings like a smoke billowing train.

Memories, sweet and sweeter,
Circling my head like a roller coaster,
Engulfing me in their charm,
Remind me of that farm and that rooster.

I still remember how we used to make paper boats,
Frogs croaking at the edge of their throats,
Those roads filled with muddy water,
But now it's just umbrellas and raincoats.

Dripping from the edge of the roof, those little droplets,
Appeared to me like a dancer's anklets,
The wings of that sparrow all drenched,
While it was trying to rush to its nest.

The numerous ripples in that lake,
What a sight they often make,
Floating on the surface, that lotus and that lily,
Like cherries on a cake.

The sun used to play hide and seek among the clouds,
That sound of thunder, so loud,
And when the rainbow used to come out of its abode,
The soil in the water emerged as a dry sand mound.

                                                                                              - Disha Wahi

A Day in the Park

It's a beautiful day
Blue sky, green grass
I have a lot to do today
But alas!

The wind has begun to blow
Reminding me of another land
I do not hear the sound of that crow
For this is not my sand.

Skaters and cyclists are all I see
Children and their mothers are all I can hear
I wonder where is that tree
Oh! I wish it were near.

So much to see
Yet I crave to go back
To listen to the buzz of that bee
To see that night, that colour so black.

Hours becoming days
Days becoming weeks
The pendulum, slowly it sways
I can almost hear the emptiness speak.

The noise is not the same
Nor is the silence
But they are not to blame
For it is my own inner turbulence.

Now as I am about to leave this park
Flashes of that neighbourhood come, yet again
Where is that dove, that dog's bark?
Where is that sun, that crowded lane?

                                                                                                            - Disha Wahi

The Plague

All of us have listened to stories of all kinds during childhood. Some of them managed to inculcate moral values in us and left a huge impact on us. Through this poem, I have tried to rejuvenate those days of storytelling. It talks about a king who, due to his arrogance and malevolence, lost the only thing dear to him.

It was an era of kings and queens

A time of coins in bronze, gold and silver

When the globe was just blue, brown and green

With spotted deer on the banks of every river.

I narrate the story of a king and his kingdom

The king being a miser as well as a dictator

With less prudence and lesser wisdom

He was a ruthless ruler.

The land was often barren

And the peasants were often starving

But the royal treasure was always laden

With pearls, jewels, necklaces and rings.

Seasons came and seasons went

But there was not even a hint

Of that wet, earthy, promising scent

That would give the dry patches a healthy tint.

The poorest of the poor apprehended-

" The Rain God is angry with us."

The average peasant retorted-

" It is just a temporary phase; Don't make a fuss!"

The rich zamindar affirmed-

" No worries, I have an everlasting stock."

And the brave soldier declared-

" Food or no food, I am as tough as a rock!"

The talks reached the king's ears

And as expected, he said-

" Let them starve! Who cares?

They are as good as dead!"

One fine day, little Ravi went running 

With tears in his eyes, to the old physician

"My brother is very ill, he is whining.

Please come and see what can be done."

The physician examined the two year old

With experience and the instruments he had got

"Holy God! Lo and behold!

This boy here is plagued!" and left his body to rot.

One went down, others followed suit

The kingdom became the Land of the Dead

The plague became an epidemic, constantly spreading its roots

Devouring all in the family, from the child to the head.

But the king was unmoved by the catastrophic event

Became deaf to the loud wails of the folk

On his ego, he was hellbent

While the land and its people were broke.

Then a day came, when in his own palace

A shriek went thundering through the walls

For now it was his own daughter in the maze

Trapped by the Devil itself, above all.

Oh! What a pitiful sight it was!

And Oh! How the king shed tears!

And Oh! How he broke all his laws!

And Oh! How he cried- "Don't leave me, my dear!"

But the disease would not leave her

Even after the king offered his own soul

And the entire realm watched in despair

Its own downfall, with the plague taking toll.

She died, leaving behind a remorseful man

But her end taught him a lesson

That The Plague never belonged to another Clan

It was within him all the time, lurking there in the form of a Demon.

                                                

                                                                                                  - Disha Wahi

Declared a Girl

Note for the readers: This post does not refer to a particular girl's life. It is a common observation made by the author, keeping in mind the kind of circumstances that some girls still have to endure, whether in a large city, in a sub- urban area or a village. Also, the emphasis of this post is on the small things or instances that make difference to a girl , rather than the larger aspect of it.

So here it goes......


I write a story here and now,
A story of a girl, like you and me,
I happen to know it by heart, don't know how,
But I guess it was meant to be.

The day she was born, born a girl,
Some were happy, most were not,
Some were indifferent, some were in a whirl,
"What about all those gifts we bought?"

"You are not supposed to go there. It is dangerous."
"You can't be sitting idle when there is so much work in the kitchen."
"Why don't you smile? Is it too tedious?"
Were words she was being subjected to since, God knows when!

"Leave it! Your physical strength does not permit you."
or
"It is out of your brain's scope to solve it."
Were the words, that to her, started sounding true,
And one fine day, she said to herself, "I Admit."

She ignored what was best for her,
Not caring to grab what all girls her age had,
At times trying to calm a lonely tear,
Trying to forget the disparity between good and bad.

Nevertheless, she sustained, she grew,
Like a lotus in a messy bog,
With people's foul sayings clinging to her like a flu,
She survived the constantly hovering fog.


Where did she go.......

I suppose she still manages to live in some corner of the world,
Where she eagerly awaits the 'Flag of Choice' to unfurl,
But one question remains unanswered-
In a race, when people are declared winners or losers, Why was She Declared a Girl?


                                                                                                            - Disha Wahi.