Pahadi Narratives

You never know what you dislike,   Until you find what feels just right.   Most of us drift through life on autopilot,   Chasing checklists, stuck in the quiet.   Growing up first came the schools and annual tests, then the race—   Entrance exams set the pace.   Next, came a job, a title, a band and a promotion ladder to climb,   A race against an invisible time.   Then comes the script that all must read,   Marriage, children—society’s creed.   But in this rush, this endless chase,   Did you ever pause to find your place???   I lived half of my life, by choices not my own,   A puppet to the norms I’d known.   Trained to listen, obey, comply,   Never once stopping to question why?? But then, one day, a thought arose,   While driving to work, lost in mind’s echoes.   "Will I ever love the way I choose??  Will I ever...

  Another day, another high, Excited to share, with a sparkle in my eye. Told my mother, "I finally wrote, Published my thoughts and feelings, let them float." But the first question that came my way— "Is it private, or can the world see what you say?" My heart, so eager, sank a bit, Shattered in silence, piece by bit. It wasn’t the first time, and I know it won’t be the last, As this cycle has always repeated, exact same way in the past. Like that day I wore a dress so bold, Felt radiant, fierce, fearless, whole. Showed it to her, hoping she’d see, The confidence, the joy it sparked in me. But all she said, without delight, "Just don’t post it on the Facebook for the world’s sight." Yet I DID!!!— made it my pride, A profile picture, no need to hide.   Then came Diwali, the festival of light, I longed for home, for warmth so bright. But instead, I heard a whispered fear— " You're divorced … what will people say and utter? "...

Here comes March again, a familiar ghost. Children bubbling with joy, hearts on fire, Excited for the colors that bring life anew, Ready with water guns, their aim so true. They’ve packed the brightest hues, And the sweetest 'gujiyas' to amuse. Excited for that strong splash, A color that clings, a lasting flash. It was a flex to show, How much color you could throw. Festivals leave memories behind, Some sweet, some a little more confined. One child in the corner, a prayer on his lips, Hoping this Holi won’t be lost in tips, Wishing that the drinks won’t drown the day, And take the colors of joy away. Worry for that father, stumbling near, Drowning his pain with every beer. Those faces you can’t recognize anymore, Filled with colors, eyes bloodshot, hearts sore. They’re searching for someone who left home, Waiting, hoping, feeling alone. The fun fades, the spirit dimmed, All that’s left is an alco-holi hymn. Will there be another Holi washed by drinks, Or will we rise above, a...

  Ever tried to pinpoint the exact moment? The moment something inside you changed? Was it in 7th grade, or maybe the 8th? A feeling unfamiliar, yet strangely engraved? I smelled a scent—a perfume— While standing in the morning prayer line, Eyes closed, hands folded tight, Right before attendance time. That fragrance lingered, always near— Was it then? Or was it later, when we had a substitute teacher? She asked us to lay our heads down on the desk, Then she stroked my hair—soft, light, tender caress. I loved it, though! Soon, Biology became my favorite class, Praised by teachers, but for one, I worked twice as hard. Her voice, her words, a melody so divine, “Oh, look at that handwriting!” she said, As if I’d etched poetry, instead of answers which filled up exam sheet lines. She loved my silky-soft hair, Laughed once, claiming she’d ride with me on my bike if she dared. Another day, she told me she loved me in red and white, Which, coincidentally, was my sports house’s pride. Satu...

     Ever noticed how some moments refuse to fade?  How certain memories—unfinished, unclosed—still invade?  Sometimes, I make pit stops at the scenes of yesterday,  The sunrise, the chai, the group study we tried—those moments won’t fade away.  The "Scooty" ride and my drive,  to your "Dungeon" where we shared a secret or two..  Shared understanding and accepting the soul, NOT the GENDER in what we grew.        Cherished times, etched deep in my mind,  Woven in memories, forever entwined.  A song, a scent, a familiar face,  And suddenly, I’m back in that old space.  Lessons were learned as we grew through the years,  Shaped by laughter, strengthened by tears.  But do we relive, or do we move on?  Should we chase shadows or welcome the dawn?  To be or not to be—the question remains,  Yet as I age, one truth sustains:  We are here to learn, to remember, to find,  The ec...