Her Womb Promised Her



Her father forced her to marry against her wishes. Her boyfriend promised he would come to ask for her hand, but never showed up. Her husband loved her, but she couldn’t love him back. Though she never backed off from vows she made to him during wedding. But still, she couldn’t love him the way she could.

All important men in her life contributed to her misery. She couldn’t get over attachments she had to them. Her heart always bled for each one of them.

But when she saw those gleaming eyes radiating innocence, those tiny fingers holding her finger, that cheerful smile showing two front teeth, and those chubby pink chicks, she knew, she had found a man who is rightfully hers. No power in the world can deprive her of that little marvel.

When she looked into his eyes and he looked into hers, she thought all the misery she endured and still endures is worthwhile. That little creature became the center of her life. The only wonder of the world. He was everything she thinks he was. The one man on whom she can bestow all the love she reserved in the pieces of her broken heart. The one man who will never make her feel miserable about herself. The crazy fact, her womb promised her that, each day, for nine months.


बड़े अरसे के बाद मिले वो

वो हमे बड़े अरसे के बाद मिले। एक दूसरे के सामने आते ही कुछ देर के लिए ना वो कुछ बोल पाए, ना हम।

हमारे बीचकी उस खामोशीको खत्म करते हुए हमने कहा –

इतनी सारी है बातें, कितने सारे है किस्से, कहासे शुरु करे कहा खत्म करे, समझ नही आता,
बिताए है इतने सारे हसीन लम्हें आपके साथ, कोनसे दोहराए कोनसे छोड़ दे, समझ नही आता।

तो उन्होंने कहा –

कुछ ना कहिए, कुछ ना दोहराइए, बस चुप बैठे रहिए।

तो हमने जवाब दिया –

किसीको चुप करानेसे या चुप बैठेनेसे, आँखोंमे आनेवाले आँसुओ को रोका नही जाता,
साथ बिताए हुए लम्होंको नजरअंदाज करके… यादोंको मिटाया नही जाता।

I Am a ‘Feel Good’ Kind of Guy


This is who I am. A feel good kind of guy. No one comes to me for an honest opinion. They come to me when they want to feel good about themselves. Friends, colleagues, relatives, and everyone of my acquaintance. I don’t know if I radiate a positive energy or what the reason is. No one wants me to be their everything. When they are feeling sadness, frustration, or all those emotions when someone needs someone else to make them feel good about themselves, I’m the guy they approach to uplift their spirits.  Even though they have closed ones with them, they choose me. When they are feeling loneliness, unworthiness, or self-pity, they approach me to vent everything out. I don’t have problem with it, but I have a problem with what follows after.

I am a tight-lipped, reticent guy. The guy who also has issues related to self-expression, so he tries to keep his mouth shut most of the times. Even when I am angry, frustrated, or disappointed, I don’t know how to express it through words or emotions, I just keep everything inside. I have friends, but I don’t have friends to confide in. I absolutely love it when people confide in me. But I have problem to open myself up in front of others.

People vent out everything in front of me. Their issues, insecurities, and suffering. My heart bleeds when they express excruciating pain they are going through following the tragedies from their past. They tell me things they have told only few people, or no one else. Sometimes, their feelings are so raw and deep, I feel awkward while listening to them. They tell me things we must not tell anyone. Those feelings, very personal and very deep, must be kept inside. But they flow with the current of their emotions and express everything. They don’t know if I’m capable of handling it.

I also have emotions. I feel empathy, sympathy, and sometimes bad for them. I keep everything inside. My emotions and their emotions too. I like to be alone. I am not a loner, but I need solitude and personal space. Sometimes, when I am alone, I reminisce those interactions. Those interactions which changed my perspective toward them. Then I wonder how it is possible. The guy looks so happy on outside. The world doesn’t have any idea what he is going through. The woman is cheerful and vivacious. But she bears and unbearable pain every time she breaths. Would I be able to get into their shoes and experience the same? Of course not! Then I feel like my chest is about to burst out of the weight of emotions and stories I kept inside.

Those stories range from my friends to women at work. A friend who tells me about his struggles to convince his parents to let him marry the girl he loves. A colleague who wants to run away from home and can’t bear to take responsibilities of loans he availed. A woman who doesn’t love her husband, but performs all duties of a wife. And a relative who feels loneliness even while staying with family. Different kinds of people, different backgrounds, and different stories. Each has one thing in common. The world doesn’t know what is going inside their minds.

But I do. Everything feels right to me when they are telling me. I feel valued, I feel important, and most importantly, I feel special to be the holder of their raw version. They make me feel I am important to them and they value my listening to their story. I appreciate I listen everything without judging or trying to give them any advice or expressing my opinion on whether they are right or wrong. I just listen. They tell me like they have so much to tell and no one to listen to, but me. I can see the intensity in their eyes. They want to tell everything that’s inside to someone. Just to someone.

And they choose me. I don’t know why. They think I am a harmless creature and I won’t use their secrets against them. Yes, I won’t use their secrets to publicly humiliate them when the time comes. They may insult me; I won’t say a word in return. But I know one thing–I can’t use what they told me in confidence against them. I haven’t told anyone this. I think they must have understood it through my behavior. What else could be the reason? Maybe, I am easily available to them. I don’t have many things to do in my life. I often hang out with friends. I am not an outgoing extrovert or party lover or the one who always has some travel plans for the weekend. I am an introvert who loves solitude and deep contemplation. I love to sleep or lie on bed thinking of something. I barely initiate conversations. If there is no one to talk to, I sit idle, watch something on television, or read a book. If my friend asks me to go out with him, I check my mood. If my mood permits, I go out. Else, I say no straight away. I talk less and listen more. That’s me. Yes, that is the reason. I don’t talk much or express myself eloquently whatever I am feeling at the moment. So they might have thought I am the good guy. He doesn’t judge or comment on something vulnerable. I am a good guy. When someone tells me about their deepest secrets and emotions, I try to understand them. I form an opinion about them, but not the critical one. Or a judgmental one. So yes, in a way, they are right. They come to the right guy whom they can tell everything. Without applying any filters in their minds. They vent out everything. At the end, I say nothing than take care. And we bid each other goodbye.

The problem arises after we bid goodbye. When we meet after the interaction, they treat me like I am just another guy. I don’t look at them the same way I used to. I look at them like some part of them lives inside me now. I treasure that part and it has special significance in the bonding I have with them. But the look doesn’t reciprocate from their eyes. They behave normal. Like we never had that interaction. They behave with others like they are special to them. Well, they don’t even know what I know. They don’t even care to know. They never bother to ask what is going on. Even if they ask, you don’t feel like telling them. Then why do you behave the way they are important to you. I get insecure because you behave normally with me. I never asked them the reason behind this. Maybe, they regret telling me what they told me. Or, they want to pretend everything is alright, but I remind them it’s not. I wonder if they are the same people who confided in me and now pretend like I am just another guy. This has happened over and over again. With each one who confided in me, the same story followed. They treat me like I matter the most to them when they are telling their story. After that, I don’t matter much to them. I felt like I am a human tool on whom they can dump their feelings and forget about it. I then reside in back of their mind in a position where it doesn’t matter if I am there.

And what about me? What about my story, my feelings, and my emotions. I tried sometimes. I tried to express. But something came in the way due to which I have to keep everything inside. Sometimes, they didn’t have time to meet me. Sometimes, they started telling their own story from reference to me and never bothered to ask me to finish my story. I never asked them to listen to me fully, because I don’t want to interrupt their flow of emotions. It was also the moment when I feel like I have been taken for granted. I don’t matter. My emotions or my feelings or my story don’t matter to them. What do I do then? I do what I do the best. I keep everything inside. Then I say something to make them feel good about themselves or don’t say anything at all. They thank me for listening and we bid goodbye.

I still crave for more of their secrets. I am a good guy after all. I wish I could turn back the clock and bring the wheels of time to a stop. When those wheels of time are stopped, I would solve their problems and give them the ideal life they always wanted to live. But I realize that there is nothing perfect in the world. We have to live with imperfections and that is how it is always going to be. We wish or we don’t. That friend has to convince his and her parents to let them marry or do as per their wishes. That colleague has to deposit money for EMI and stay with family no matter what or run away from responsibilities. That woman has to learn to love her husband and perform all duties of a wife or get a divorce. That relative has to feel lonely while staying with family or stay away from family. In all cases, the latter isn’t an option. Else, they would have availed it and they would never have to find me to tell their story.

And I… I have to live with them treating me normal or demand special treatment. I guess, I, too, don’t have the latter option.



इन आँखोकी इनायत देखकर


हररोज़ तो देखते थे हम एकदुसरेको,
फिर हम मुस्कुराकर देखते थे तो क्यों मुकर जाते थे,
गुफ्तगू करनेका प्रयास जबभी हम करते थे,
तो उन आँखोसे अजनबी होनेका पैगाम क्यों दे जाते थे।

तुम्हे क्या पता कितनी हिम्मत जुटाकर,
अपना मन बनाकर आपसे गुफ्तगू करने आये थे,
कितनी सारी बाते ज़ेहनमें रखकर,
धड़कते हुए दिलके साथ तुम्हारे पास आये थे।

नाम न था पता आपका, बस आँखोसे रूबरू थे,
फिरभी आपने निगाहे मिलातेही हमे पहचाना तक नहीं ,
ठुकरा दिया इस कदर की हैरान रह गए थे,
हमारी मासूम बातोंमे छुपी सच्चाईको समझा तक नहीं।

हिम्मत जुटानेवालोको ऐसे ठुकराता हे क्या कोई,
दिल्लगी करनेका ऐसा सिला देता हे क्या कोई,
वो तो आपकी आँखोमे सारा जहा दिख गया वरना,
ऐसे ठोकर खानेके बाद संभालता हे क्या कोई।

जमानेमें तो बदनाम हो ही गए है मदहोशीके लिए,
होशमें भला कैसे रह सकता है कोई उन आँखोमें झाककर,
अफ़सोस नहीं हे हमे हमारे मदहोश रेहनेके लिए,
ये बेखबर जमानाभी बहक जायेगा इन आँखोकी इनायत देखकर।

दुनिया बदलनेवालोकी हिम्मत


दिलकी बाते जानकर, पीठ थपथपाकर,
हौसला बढ़ानेकी शायद ही किसीकी कोशिश होती हैं,
ढ़लतेे सूरजको देखकर मुँह फेरने वाली इस दुनियाको,
उसकी तड़पन कहा पता होती हैं।

हर मुश्किलका सामना करनेके लिए,
जज़्बा अटूट हो जाता हैं जब नियत साफ होती हैं,
आधी-अधूरी बात जानके नजरिया बदलतीे इस दुनियाको,
दुनिया बदलनेवालोकी हिम्मत कहा बर्दाश होती हैं।

You’re There For me, All The Time..


‘Please don’t say anything, just… Walk along.’

‘You’re saying, we should walk on this beach quietly? See this beautiful tint the sun had spread upon the sky while going down, feel this cool wind fondling our hair, and this touch of soft sand sending goosebumps into our bodies through our bare feet. And above all, we are holding each other’s hand. How romantic is this! And you want me walk quietly?’

‘Yes, you’re right. Everything is romantic. I’m asking you to walk along quietly because… Because I want to feel someone is there for me all the time. Someone is there no matter what is happening to me, good or bad, how I am, happy or sad, healthy or sick, how I look, handsome or ugly, who I am, mature or childish, sensible or irrational, successful or failure, I don’t know. I just want you to be there. I want to feel this when I am holding​ your hand and you’re saying nothing. But assuring me with the touch of your hand that you are and will always be there for me. The crazy fact is, I just want to feel that emotion.. You are there… For me, all the time.’

The Twist Of The Fate


Her supercilious demeanor, impenetrable eyes, quick wit, and bewitching countenance bore an aura of a girl whose loftiness would put the place on fire if evoked. She was the girl whom no one dared to mess with. I knew my reticent, tight-lipped behavior would complement hers. I extemporized my feelings when I approached her. I quavered a little, but she clearly heard my subdued impassioned murmur. I guess it was because a warmth flowed through my speech. The vague expression was comprehensible to her through my incomprehensible words. But her sharp gaze was dawned on me as if it was preparing itself to tear up my heart.

Finally, I muttered last words, ‘Will you go on a date with me?’

I alerted my cheeks to hold weight of tears as her gaze sharpened. My obscure expression made no impact than offending her, it seemed. But I was wrong. She said yes. I was hit by a thunderbolt with her assent.

I asked her, this time articulating my thoughts. ‘Why did you agree? I wasn’t even confident, or expressive. And for a girl of your caliber, I don’t stand a chance. Then why?’

She replied in a courteous, yet confident manner, ‘For the same reason you approached me. You have a tender curiosity to know how I became who I am today. Similarly, you have your side of story too. I want to know what made you an inarticulate, lowly person. Circumstances, experiences, to summarize, stories shape the character of a person. I want to know your story.’

Then she promised to meet me and I looked at her stone-faced as she walked away.

The crazy fact is, the fate takes twists when we take chances.

Meeting First Love Again


‘Hey, Anvita,’ I said after gathering so much courage to talk to her.

She turned around.

‘Yes?’ Her eyebrows narrowed. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘People don’t forget the name of their first love.’

‘I was your first love?’

‘Yes. It’s obvious you don’t remember me. I never approached you. I was in fifth standard. I used to pass through your building four to five times every day on bicycle to have a glance of yours. It has been 14 years since the day you shifted. I remember that evening. You were wearing a yellow frock with black dots all over it.’ Her eyebrows raised, eyes widened, and corners of lips stretched into a slight smile. ‘The tempo loaded. And you all left. I thought I was seeing you for the last time. Turns out, I was wrong.’

‘Yes. I still have that dress with me. Yellow is my favorite color. I never throw away yellow colored clothes. You seem to tell the truth.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Good to know that. And nice to meet you. Bye.’

As she turned around, I called her.

‘Hey.’ She turned around, her gaze, inquisitive. ‘Is there any chance I get to know you better?’


‘Please. People don’t get to meet their first love again in their lives. I’m lucky. And I will consider myself the luckiest guy in the world if I get to know you.’

‘You’re right. But I’m afraid it’s not possible. I’m committed.’


‘Yes, sorry.’

‘No problem. It’s good to talk to you.’

‘Same here.’

And she left.

I don’t know if I should be disappointed or happy to see her. I guess I should be happy to get to see her and there is nothing to be disappointed about. The crazy fact is, it is better to gather a little courage in the moment than be in a dilemma forever.

(Image courtesy of stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

A GUEST POST “I’ve Always Told You” by Me on POETRY PASSION

First guest blogging experience.

Thank you Aatif Sir for publishing my poetry on your blog.

Source: A GUEST POST “I’ve Always Told You” by “PRATIK KIRVE FROM PUNE

I Don’t Want To Leave This Place


Why do we have to?
Move ahead in life,
Chase the unknown horizon,
Strode on mysterious paths.

Even if we don’t want to,
Even if we want to stay,
Right where we are,
And do what we are doing.

The destiny organizes circumstances,
In such a way that,
We have to leave the place,
And embark upon a quest.

Unknown places,
Unknown conditions,
Unknown people,
And unknown journey.

But what we know certainly is,
There is no going back.
Once we leave, we leave.
Then what do we do?

We miss that beautiful place,
Recall all the memories,
Maybe cry a little,
And let our emotions flow.

I wonder if the destiny,
Realigns the circumstances,
Get us back to the place,
We had no intention to leave.

The same place,
The same conditions,
And the same people,
Everything will be the same.

Same joy,
Same emotions,
And same vibes.
Everything same as before.

The crazy fact is,
I know this will never happen,
But I wish it would,
I just wish.