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