The Indian Household

Intriguing reality of an average Indian Home!

Meenas Poems

The rice boiling

the vegetables steaming

the  broth simmering

the clock chiming

the school bus honking

the child bathing

the mother running

the father reading

the Indian household

in the morning

a chaos for the female

a peace for the male Indian household

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Sublime Hope

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My thoughts pure as a white rose
From maligning them, I detest.

My destination is a bright star
From falling ,my steps I guard.

Embarking on my strong will
I trudge my path.

Loom of hatred and lies
Circling me around.

Unaware of how high I rise
My hopes shall keep me astound.

#A famous song in urdu, from a Pakistani Drama.

Two Friends

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Together as kids
They fought and giggled.

Together as seven year olds
They raced bicycles.

Together As tweens
they played nintendo

Together as teens
They explored the world.

Together as adults
They envisioned their future.

But now
Something has changed

They are together
No more.

Why?
Did they fought?

They’d have fought
had they been the same.

As directions changed
So did THEY.

As paths changed
So did their thoughts.

As choices changed
So did their hearts.

As hearts changed,
So did their emotions.

As life changed
So did EVERYTHING.

Was it supposed to be like this?
Friends turning strangers.

From incessant chatting
To a casual ‘hi’ on Sundays.

If this easily friends change,
Never call anyone ‘best friend’ again.

If this cold friends can be
Never trust them again.

If this shallow they turn out
Never confide in them again.

If this is how friendship concludes
Never make friends again.

Why do people malign love?
When a broken friendship equally pains.

Who’s fault is it?
To shatter these mortals.

Is their any solemner loss
Than an estranged friend?

Show them again
The effervescent colors of their childhood.

Depict them again
The bouyant laughters they laughed together.

Reckon them again
The times they stood for each other’s thick and thin.

Lead them again
To the alleys where they used to stroll.

Remind them again
The evenings when they flew kites together.

Narrate them again
Their childhood adventures.

May be then
They’ll realise what’s lost.

May be then
They’ll recall a friend who used to be life.

May be then
They’ll unite as the Two Friends again.