Night's stormy tryst Now silence persists Strands of sky Look through the clouds Twilight whispers into dawn Eyes witness drenched morn... - Vibha


Words &Rain

It is raining in Delhi NCR and perfect time to write. Alas my life as a recruiter disrupts by being as a writer. Yet, some time to steal from all the essentials for all the things worth living for. "And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry,... Continue Reading →

In Search Of Kamali

(I wrote this story nearly two years back when I did a course in creative writing to fine-tune my skill as a writer. During one of the assignments we were asked by our mentor Mr. Menon, to read about the Lodhi Dynasty and write a story based on that era as a ghost!  During the course of this assignment, I came across the mention of the Jamali Kamali tombs. While Jamali is the tomb of the sufi poet Jamali Kamboh, the antecedents of Kamali are yet unknown. There was something mystifying about this structure and I chose it as the prompt to my story.) In Search Of Kamali I have returned Kamali. As promised, I have returned to Mehrauli. Nearly 500 years have passed, but it seems like yesterday. Mehrauli has changed. It has become noisy. This place was noisy earlier too, but there was a rhythm to the noise. There... Continue Reading →

Her Night Before Christmas

Merry Christmas

Through The Coloured Glass

Alone she rides
Across the pole on the sleigh,
As it is the year’s busiest day.
She made sure,
He is packed for the chill,
The Red Coat mended
To face the wind.

The sack all filled
With the tagged toys,
And magic dust sprinkled
To add the joy.

The tired little elves
Warm and tucked in bed,
She knows for her
It is a lonely night ahead.

The barn’s all empty,
Even her Comet is gone,
She loves him the most,
Though he doesn’t lead in the song.

A tough night it seems,
Yet the loveliest time of the year,
The cold winds for once,
Spread across the cheer.

The NorthStar in the sky,
Keeps her company,
He is a silent spectator
She is fond of cacophony.

She loves the loud Ho Ho Ho
And the beard white with snow
She loves his hard working hands,
But the overeating…

View original post 52 more words

Powered by

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: