Abu! We will meet again.

In search of you

I scream volumes 

In hope –

they may travel

voids of your grave.

And surely,  

     I found you –

In eyes of my mother.

In courage and strength.

In tears and sorrow.

In smile through dry lips.

In emptiness of the night.

In eerie silence at home.

In fragrance filling your room.

In the heavy heart of mine. 


I found you. 

I do find you.


I still wait 

To see your face-

In the sunshine

Among the crowd at home

Sitting on your sofa

With right leg raised on left,

Left hand supporting face

And right holding my hand

speaking to me

“Don’t worry,

Allah will make it easy,

Everything will be fine.

I’m fine.”

I wait for your words

To come true. 

I do wait 

I will wait for an entire life.

But for now

My love, My beloved

My father.

Stay peaceful!

We are fine. 

We shall meet again

 – in the paradise. 

Promise shall be kept,

Angels will glorify,

And time will be witness. 

~Your Daughter~

P.S: Death can’t be excused, there is no escape. Loss is irreplaceable, but one favour you can do and that is, send “Surah Fatiha” to my Abu. Thank you!



“O’ My Beloved Grandma”

The colour of my walls is yet to fade,

Your sweat is still condensing by,

It makes me feel your presence this night.

The glare in your eyes,

The promise to support every time,

At their youthful age all that died.

And alone in this crazy world,

You left me to think of life.

Though I do live, I do smile,

Many a times I do forget,

You aren’t anymore among the alive.

Just to let you believe,

I am the brave girl whom you knew,

With you, who used to sleep.

Today I leaned back on my couch,

Your last words and the blessing of no count,

Where blooming in my mind,

Like the lonely moon in the dark sky.

To which I still try to gaze for the time long,

People say to stars now you belong

And I try enough to believe this myth.

Though I do remember your words,

Good people take steps to the paradise,

But you forgot to tell me,

How I can find,

The one lost for the entire life.

Remember? The garden butterflies,

Red, Purple, Yellow and others with stripes

I still try to get near and hold them,

They do still flutter their wings,

And take the flight too high,

But now no one screams for the safety of your child.

Unlike you and that old time.

For an epoch I hold a complaint,

Dreams! There even you don’t glide now,

I pray every night,

For one glimpse of your sight,

“To the disappointment”, I meet at dawn,

But then I still hold a hope,

Of meeting you at the shore of an another night,

Where you will rise from the pious waves,

And the richness of your love,

Will envelope me,

And hold me forever in your beautiful,

Wrinkled eyes.

Mothers hand


P.S :  I am never able to write my heart out when it is all about my “Boba ji” 


Pride and Decorum of the gardener,
Adding beauty and an exquisite to the garden.

Fragrance of it, the sign of purity,
Ascent it’s of the dignity.

Brightening in the jewels is the old carpet,
And the dew on the petals held as the character.

The scent of earth purify thy soul,
To which thy roots belong in whole.

Tries enough to skip the worldly pleasure,
Just to live life in its own way to treasure.

The clouds of terror traced the path all day long,
Crying in pain tries to run away singing a soothing song.


To the world the heart just ask to live apart
Let it grow the way it wants.

In the shadow following through the nights dark,
The eyes of its plea to let it in its own way light the spark.

Nothing more the soul of the flower asks,
Let it free and fly as long as its flight will last.