The Child Who Held the Night My sahib is Rajendra Singh, IPS.In this colony his name is spoken softly, like a warning.To me, he is the man whose house I serve and whose sleep I guard. “Power slept deeply. I was not allowed to.” His wife, Sunita Singh, taught me fear in small lessons.Not every […]
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Kerala – The Place Where My Breath Learned to Be Slow I was born where the earth stays green,Like a promise that never learned to fade.At the southern edge of the waking sun,Where the sea hummed lullabies at night. Monsoon rains arrive like old friends,Thunder speaks, lightning dances the sky,Rivers swell, and the earth drinks
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The Real Story of Cleopatra When most people hear the name Cleopatra, they imagine a beautiful queen with shining gold makeup.They think of a woman who fell in love with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony.They remember stories that say she bathed in milk and died from a snake bite. But that picture is not the
When Love Was a Temple Whisper I walk like a pilgrim on a road where spring once stopped to pray,My hair is turning ash, the way evening melts into smoke. Childhood still rings inside me like thin glass in old corridors,Hunger-small fingers once counting stars instead of coins. Time ground my days like grain beneath
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The Boy Who Played for the Heavens A Mother’s Silent Wish Robby was a young boy with a heart full of dreams. He lived with his elderly mother, whose eyes shone with love whenever she spoke of him. One wish burned in her heart – she wanted to hear her son play the piano. Though
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The Day I Met My Own Younger Self. I watched him,
steady, like the sea beyond Kochi harbour that has swallowed tempests and returned to quiet.
Then it struck me with a softness that hurt:
I was looking at my own beginning. He was my younger self
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A Father’s Quiet Prayer On a Monsoon Night Dear Lord,I stand before You tonight, not as a perfect man,but as a father with trembling lovefor my son who still carries the soft scent of powderand the gentle glow of sunset on his shirt. Grant me strength, not loud, but enduring, Like roots that always hold
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You, The Tree of my Heart I cannot say why I bloomed like jasmine,On a dawn that smelled of honey and quiet rain.Nor why I reached for you,the way moonlight reaches a waiting windowwithout knowing it is longing. I do not know why flowers settled on me,soft as secrets whispered on your shoulder.Nor why your
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Pinkikutty’s Echo of a Silent Night One moon, one sister, and a silence too deep I called him Chetta, my sun after rain,The one who lifted me on his shoulders,So even sparrows looked small beneath my feet.His pockets smelled of jamoon fruit,His fingers tasted of roasted peanuts and sugar,And his laughter was the swing that
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She, Who Holds Me Always She walks into my life the way a soft breezeSettles on tired leaves after a long summer day,Not loud, not bright, not demanding,Just a calm presence that knows where I hurt. My fears, once cold like dawn-temple stone,She warms with a touch soft as jasmine in first light.In my darker
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