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Poems and Perspectives

Manisha Shrestha

Research Scholar

Sikkim University


Many a moments bloom before me

I pass them uninterested.

Pearls fall in torrents from heaven

And facing an oblivious awareness,

Disappointedly, vapour back.

The ticking of the clocks,

The bells in the schools

Alarm all, in an awareness

Of time gushing by

Enticing opportunities, that are swept away

Into the fatal mouth of the beautiful past.

Yet, Pearls caressing the cheek of Time

As glistening drops,

Are ruthlessly wiped away in ignorance….


Turning my back to the mortal ground,

I turn towards the vast expanse of nothingness.

Turning my back to everything,

I turn towards nothingness.

Lying on the dewy carpet of Mother Earth,

I turn my eyes to the Father Above.

I see, and see nothing,

Yet find everything in that nothingness.

Everything it contains and

Is contained in everything.

Gazing persistently, entranced -

At His majesty,

My soul begins to breathe

Into expansion.

Spreading wide, engulfing everything,

I realise Eternal Truths in that moment.

Gently whiffing through the air

My breath merges with the breeze -

I am one with the Divine.

Gazing at that expanse -

I feel a part of nothing -

And everything, at once.


The sun is setting the same way, in the same direction it sets everyday… yet, today, it seems like something is setting with it, sinking down in the deep, dark abyss.

Such a sadness to remember a happy past… Oh, my daughter! Innocence bubbling, in that picture frame. …. To recall those days, it is as if my heart would burst! I remember the blessed day when I first held you in my palms, small and cute as you were! I felt that you might melt away! Wrapping you in my warmth, I hugged you closest to my breast, fearing anything that might separate you from me.

With time, you grew up, while I remained the same, unable to perceive the passage of time in moments, days, months and years. Soon, it was time for parting, to send you to school. You wept… I sobbed, yet steeled myself to push you into the flow of life. Moments throbbed hard in me till you peeped out of the tiny crowd, pushing all aside. My hands then rose instinctively, to grab you once again. You smiled, I felt blissful.

Years passed… you blossomed; while I remained your same old mother. Our lonely house soon bustled with loud laughter, songs and colourful drapery that you thought were ‘cool’! Your friends got more of your time now, than me, while I remained your same old mother, waiting for you to come back home after treading a world more colourful than what waited for you in your home.

I met you once, in a dark cold night while you were typing texts on your phone. I had asked you then, “Still awake?”, you turned indifferent. In disbelief, I asked again. You called me ‘old-fashioned’. Yet whenever some stranger broke your heart, you sobbed to me, sinking into my bosom, tearing… tearing away my soul… It took days sometimes, to get you back to your feet. But when you did, you went away from me, once again …

Time came when you had to choose between home and career. I, suppressing my tears, told you to choose the latter. I packed your bags with trembling hands and set you off to make your life. Years rolled on, and I remained… again… your same, old mother. I wait for you even today – wait for you to come back home… after treading the world, more colourful me. You are the ‘light’ of my life, my daughter… Oh! The light sinking away from the world of my love to the world that beckons you!

… I wait… wait on… to hug you close once again – to shield you from stress and turmoil of your times, but…”

She peeps out of the window, drenched in the golden light that brightens her dark room into illumination. Little children are playing in the park that she has turned her lawn into. She keeps aside the picture-frame of her daughter. Getting up from her brown furniture, drawing the curtains aside, she opens the window and her spirit smiles in bliss…


In a magnificence of colours,

A joyous darkness,

A lullaby hummed quietly

In the aroma of bliss,

I wake up to life

In my hours of sleep.

Gliding in rhythm,

With a tip-toe to heaven

I, inaudibly hear silence

Speak peace to me.

In joyous lands

And a solitary being

Of togetherness,

I wake up to life

In my hours of death.

On Writers

Writers are born in silence and not in noise. Writing is the eloquence that emerges out of their silent witnessing of noise. People often say that sounds are the elements of life but when sounds end up in a cacophony they can just be noise. Thrill and excitement for a stretch can turn monotonous. Life, then, dies into chaos. Noise when calm and relaxed becomes music. Life when calm becomes soulful. The chirping of birds, the rumbling of thunder or the buzzing bumblebee are beautiful if felt in silence. Those who hear this melody in Nature, see the beauty. And this can change lives.

However, one cannot run away from noises… they will be there, always. In spite of it all, there would always be the beads of melody silently whispering peace. A child in a crowd, a smile peering from the midst of tears…

Once one discovers them, discovering oneself is not too far… It is here... that writing begins…

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