Posted in Poetry

Cleaning up

I cleaned my room today,
Never again,
As Mother Owl watched over me.

One by one I emptied the cupboards,
And part by part I became less.
Before long I sat,
Beholding my past,
But I was no one.

Report Cards.

No one, watching a boy,
Grow in front of his eyes.
Piece by Piece,
One by One,
Like a Jigsaw Puzzle,
Putting another’s life together.

“Clear it up” she hooted,
“And build it all anew.”

A chest,
Of memories.
A Hero,
For the Dark.
A book,
Of dreams.
A letter,
For a Heart.

I packed it all up,
And threw it all away.
‘Cuz when the past ain’t around,
The future’s here to stay.

– Arnesh.K

Posted in Ramblings

You Are Legend.

The first day of school. Any other year, it would’ve been no big deal. But this is first grade we’re talking about – and I was the new kid. I remember the class teacher walking in, with a smile that could light up 7 moons; and beginning the class by asking us what we wanted to be when we grew up – a question, I have found, that grows in complexity with age.

The first day of school in first grade is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about my early days in school. The scrawny little guy who got up to answer the fateful question is the rightful reason for this.Everyone was saying things one would expect any normal kid to say at that age – Astronaut, Doctor, Cricketer,etc. But then, there was this guy.

“What do you want to do when you grow up, Harsh?”

“Ma’am, I want to go to 12th grade.”

We all laughed then, even him, not realizing that this was perhaps the smartest and the most realistic response we had heard yet. Interestingly enough, that isn’t the reason I remember that day either.

“I’ll tie you to a rocket and blast you off to 12 grade right now”, the teacher said teasingly.

I remember imagining him – tied to a rocket in the courtyard,like a scene straight out of Tom & Jerry, taking off and crashing into a 12th grade classroom at the top-most floor of our school. No one can imagine my disappointment, a few years later, when I found out that the 12th grade classes were on the floor below us.

Now, 10 years later, I waved that scrawny little guy along with many others, a final good-bye. 10th grade is a kind of mini-graduation, where we choose our streams – science, commerce, arts, etc. Some choose to follow a different board of education altogether. This meant that around half the people in our grade would leave, perhaps never to be seen again.

People leave. That’s what they tend to do. But in doing so, they leave behind something far more firm and permanent – memories. From spoofs of English lessons to bunking classes to jam in the music room; From intense pun fests to casual lunch break brawls; From imitating teachers to being horrible at basketball.

“The only reason people hold on to memories so tight is because they are the only things that don’t change, when everything else does.”  

We’ve all heard myths and fables growing up. Bed time stories to rid us of the fear of monsters under our beds; fascinating stories of bravery, courage and glorious deeds. Heroes. Legends. What are legends? Are they not stories that remind us of people who made this world a better place? Are they not tales of people who have inspired millions and instilled values that have made them better people? Are they not memories of people who made a difference?

In these 10 years, the people who left have been all this to me and much,much more. You have inspired me. You have made me a better person. You have helped me become what I am today, and will inspire me to be more in the future. In doing so, you have made my world a better place. You. Are Legend.


Posted in Poetry

Chemical Defects

You wait for the dark
You let the tears flow
Your pain, your grief,
Too afraid to show

For the world has taught you
“Only the weak cry”
So you cage your emotions
And kill them with this lie

They rise, they revolt,
Demanding to be heard
She walks away
You don’t say a word.

As chemical defects,
You cast them aside
While they burn
And shrivel your insides.

You forget that you
Are neither Iron nor Stone
That you are Human
More than just flesh and bone.

Like the rest you forget who they are
Your Sentiments, your Bretheren
Your instincts, your guides
All fade – But when

One Grieves, one cries
One loves, one sighs
But when from oneself
One hides, One dies.


Posted in Poetry

Upon the Hill

A Sculpted visage,
A Frozen smile,
Standing still.

A Prosperous city,
A Generous king,
The Epitome of Good will;

A land of Beauty,
A land of Happiness;
All until,

A Heart of stone,
A Cruel hand,
The Embodiment of Evil.

A land of Darkness,
A land of Fear,
The Devil’s Mill.

A Ruined city,
A Dead king.
Yet, upon the hill,

A Sculpted Visage,
A Frozen Smile,
Standing still.


Posted in Poetry

The Warrior of Light

He sat in the darkness that all his life he’d known,
‘Twas in this darkness that his mind had flown

For years he awaited an end to his grief,
Numb he’d become, to the absence of relief

He no longer felt the cold biting into his skin
He no longer felt the pain tearing him from within.

No longer could he feel the tears on his face,
Biding his time, staring into empty space

Until now

Now, he felt a warmth he’d never known before
Now,all at once, he could live
Now, he felt the tears, sadness and pain ebb away
Now,all of a sudden, he was not alone.

For the space his eyes had often searched,
Was no longer a void of darkness
And in those moments of salvation,
He knew his heart could beat again.

He’d laid his eyes on nothing more tranquil,
More peaceful nor serene as she
A smile that could light up the world
A lifeboat of light in an ocean of darkness.

He stood still, his eyes wide open
Like an atheist in front of god

She was The Angel
The Warrior of light
his savior, his liberator
His Knight in shining armor.



Note: Notice how before ‘Until Now’ the poem followed a rhyme scheme, but afterwards it became free-verse? I did that to signify the fact that before ‘her’ arrival, he suffered a dull and monotonous existence; whereas after ‘her’ arrival, he was… freed 🙂