The Wall

© Taruchaya

The little girl went out to play
but she felt she was unwelcome-
they threw a stone and shooed her away,
the little girl came crying home.
With a drop of blood glued to her forehead,
she quietly slipped into her shared room,
stared at the green window from her bed-
her heart was full of guilt and gloom.
She must have done something wrong,
so she blamed herself for everything.
Perhaps she was never meant to belong
and often felt she was good-for-nothing.
She got up and stood before the wall.
“Hey Wall ! Will you be my friend?
Though you are big and I’m small,
but we’re both alone so let’s just pretend.
I’ll tell you stories and share my thoughts.
I hope you’ll hear me out.
Together we’ll play and laugh lots-
there’ll be nothing to have qualms about.”
That’s how the little girl made a friend.
Her secret keeper and guardian at night.
One who never judged but quietly listened.
That was the wall in the last room to the right!

© Taruchaya

Just a Hug

© Taruchaya

Can I get a hug?
Just a hug would suffice.
You don’t need to do anything else
Or say anything nice.

Though you might feel awkward…
why a hug out of the blue?
But sometimes words are useless
Sometimes we have no clue

Scars hide the depth of a wound
extreme pain makes us numb
Lucky are those who can cry out loud
Or those who prefer to play dumb

Was it anger that flowed through the eyes?
Was it contempt…or sheer agony?
Was it helplessness or frustration?
Tears- a tragic euphony of irony!

You neither have to console
nor fill pity to the brim of your eyes
All I need is one tight hug
Just a hug would suffice!

© Taruchaya

Rumination

© Taruchaya

Sometimes you become invisible
Even you cannot see yourself
Like an apparition
Or maybe like the summer heat
Suffocating others with your blank presence
Perhaps you always stand at a blind spot
Away from the range of vision
You watch everything perfectly
But you are not visible to others
It’s almost like spying over people
Each person overburdened with his own duties
The projector of life rolls away…
scene by scene starts and end
That’s how it is.
It’s a never-ending drama series
You chose to accept the genre you like most…or less overbearing.
Watching from the rooftop of a house or high-rise.
Looking down at the limited people walking around the premises or the adjacent road
While being watched from the dark grey sky…
stars don’t twinkle anymore…
they are frozen in shock perhaps.
The chaos is more inside than outside.
You accept what suits your state of mind and keep going like always…
“Hello, it’s me..nice to meet you again after a long while…how have you been?” It is an irrelevant question…
this too shall pass and you too shall sleep at ease…
at least sleep hasn’t avoided you all this while.
The pillow smells more of memories than you…
memories that keep playing in your mind…
like some childhood game you liked…
not for winning but the sheer pleasure it gave you…
hah!…they call it the little lost joys of life.
It’s okay to be standing at a blind spot…
you are the spectator…
you are the audience…
you can judge or just watch…
no need to hide…
remember you are already invisible and that’s your strength…
that’s your freedom…
you are all yours…

© Taruchaya

Hold my hand again!

Photo © Taruchaya

Hold my Hand Again

While learning to walk I clung into you.
You’ve been my raincoat in the rain.
Even if I never ask you to,
will you hold my hand again?

You gave me roots that are still strong.
You gave me wings to fly.
The roots kept me grounded all along-
limited was the length of my sky!

As time passed by…
bigger grew my disdain.
And I learned to lie…
I learned how to feign.

I know I never made you proud.
I must have been a difficult child.
Though I never asked this aloud-
Father, why was I exiled?

But on certain days like this,
I try not to cringe or complain.
Even now when I fall, all I want is
for you to hold my hand again!

© Taruchaya

Hypocrite

Photo ©Taruchaya

Who is the biggest hypocrite…
The one who defies his heart’s voice,
or the one who doesn’t accept
someone else’s opinion and choice?

We fail to acknowledge the problem.
We find excuses…we tell ourselves lies,
fake smiles…act at random,
drink our sorrows with lonely sighs.

The celebratory lights have no meaning
when there is darkness within.
The end leads to a hoax beginning –
God is nothing more than the Devil’s twin!

It’s not weakness that kills someone…
it’s the lack of understanding.
Some actions can’t be undone –
our hearts are rapidly contracting.

© Taruchaya

The Listeners

© Taruchaya
The Listeners

Just a pair of patient ears
is what we need sometimes.
Someone who stays…someone who cares
Someone not afraid of emotional grimes.

Not all are vocal about what they feel-
someone might be a quiet secret keeper.
A fragile heart encased in steel,
but with cracks that run deeper.

It takes millions years for a fossil to form,
and  a million moments to mould a person.
It’s hard to decipher the calm before a storm.
Everyone has a different version.

Ever tried listening to someone…
their hidden sorrows and pain?
So many things are left unspoken-
would you like to try again?

© Taruchaya

When The Moon Falls

Pool at home © Taruchaya

When the Moon falls

The moon dropped from the sky
and fell into the pool.
No one heard it’s pleading cry.
We are perhaps deaf and cruel.

I saw it wriggling on the surface
at the edge of pool’s water.
Like an oyster shell forced to uncase
snatched and scratched for slaughter!

Dead leaves drowned with grief-
bodies scattered at the pool’s bottom.
Their lives were sorrowfully brief.
They’ve been conveniently forgotten.

Can’t help musing over the fact
that the moon can fall down too.
Perhaps it didn’t get a chance to react and no one came to it’s rescue!

Did I see it wincing in great pain
or they were mere ripples in the pool?
Even in the dark dusk rain
the fallen moon looked miniscule.

©Taruchaya

If Only You Believe

©Taruchaya

If Only You Believe

Ever wondered how beautiful it would be,
if an insomniac could blissfully sleep.
If the deaf could hear…the blind could see
and the mute could happily speak.

If the pessimist could cling to hope,
the atheist could believe in divinity.
If the depressed could learn to cope
with the barrage of human negativity.

If the homeless had a home,
the poor had enough to sustain.
The caged could freely roam
and the world could find peace again.

Reality is built on a dream
that once seemed hard to achieve.
When you learn to swim against the stream,
good things happen…if only you believe.

© Taruchaya