One Gate, Umpteen Gateways

I know this is not rare,

Nor is it for the first time,
That a mortal stands before you,
Oh Mighty Gate of Life!


You have opened your arms to welcome me,
As if to invite me to an auction!
And introduced me to your clients- the Gateways,
Who, in my world, are renowned as 'Career Options'.


One after another, they greet me,
Presenting their brochures of pros and cons,
And once they are done, they offer me a key,
That is supposed to open the lock of a new dawn.


Oh! What a sight it is!
To see them lure me no end,
To make me sign their lifelong bonds, 
They plead with me, so that I might bend.


So tell me, Oh Timeless Gate of Life!
What would you do, had you been in my situation?
With due respect, and even more humbleness,
I seek an answer to my question.

- Disha Wahi

Spellbound!

I woke up on a dark, dewy morning,

Felt a bit colder than usual,

Heard no sparrows chirping,

Just the watchman with his whistle.

With eyelids still glued to each other,

It took a lot of effort to check the time,

Was 5’O clock, so regained my slumber,

Considering it to be a harmless crime.

All of a sudden it started to rain,

Pouring cats and dogs and kittens and pups!

And the doors and windows went insane,

By gushes of wild winds that seemed to be doing push- ups.

It made me wonder for a while,

Do these clouds ever sleep?

They continue their journey, traversing miles,

Drenching every being as they weep.

What makes the wind decide?

To stay calm or to stage violence,

By taking an old gulmohur's fate in its hands,

Uprooting it ruthlessly, while it watches in silence.

Or how did a vulnerable daisy survive?

In the claws of that obnoxious monster,

What forced its lost strength to revive?

When there was no sign of a possible future.

In a collapsing mound of wet soil,

How could that tiny ant protect its family?

In all the fury and the turmoil,

How did it rescue them, one after another, so stealthily?

These thoughts incinerated my early morning dreams,

Could not sleep after that heavy dose of enlightenment,

With droplets of awe trickling down my soul,

I enjoyed that moment with utmost enchantment!

                                                                                                                             -Disha Wahi

Piece of Gold

T 'was a chilly winter night,

Inside an impoverished hut with a fading light,

She was lying ghastly still, with her body corpse- cold,

Her wrinkled hands firmly clutching a piece of gold.

Her only daughter was sitting beside her,

Trying to fight every saline drop of tear,

Convincing the old woman in a voice so bold,

To part with that sole piece of gold.

"My time has come, dear", she murmured.

"Spending our last possession on this hag is absurd."

But you have a whole life that remains to be explored,

And so, for your future, I shall preserve this piece of gold."

"When your father was alive, he would often say,

That 'Our child will never fall prey'

'To poverty and to illiteracy', and so, here I hold,

Your true guardian, this piece of gold."

Hearing this, the daughter was deeply dismayed.

"Oh mother! Your prudence and generosity leave me dazed.

But without you, my doom is foretold,

Because nothing, but you are my priceless piece of gold."

-Disha Wahi