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  Jul 2016 Ghazal
Amelia of Ames
I have a hard time
linking words to emotions
and emotions to actions
and all this to meaning.

I'll slowly build up
my library of feeling.
But I wonder exactly
what I was missing.

When I scrutinized us,
I did so without seeing.
I thought I knew all.
I saw my own meaning.

Life doesn't have meaning;
what it does have is people.
Now I say what I mean,
and I listen to feeling.

I've struggled with friends,
with parents, and with brothers.
I knew motivations
without knowing them.

Now I start to see people.
We're closer together.
Done connecting the dots,
we connect to each other.
Ghazal Jul 2016
Cinderella-
She left her shoe behind as she ran,
Barefoot, unthinking,
she hurried on dewy grass
towards greener lands
and castles grand,
and chandeliers radiant,
and jasmines fragrant,

Cinderella-
did you realise that the
bloom which beckons from afar,
in reality, will only hurt and jar,
the sun, the glitter, and the stars
are faces of a deceitful mirage?

Cinderella, return!
You left your shoe behind,
You left your heart behind,
You left your prince behind,
You left yourself behind,
Save them all before they go ****!
It's only minutes until midnight.
Ghazal Jun 2016
She's been blooming ever since
She set foot on this earth,
With cheeks that people found akin
to cupcakes and a cackle that'd
make even the harshest ones swoon,
She'd bloom.

When she grew- she grew a tad bit awkward,
Beauty doesn't follow roadmaps,
So her eyebrows did a little mischief,
And her weight didn't really obey,
A pimple or two popped out too,
of its own accord,
Yet, with that fire in her heart
and the spark that it reflected her eyes,
though she didn't recognise,
she was making the world her own,
Yes, she was in bloom.

As she walks down her office corridor,
Sharp and chiselled,
Confident and aware
of every look, every stare
falling on her frame, she remembers the days
when she wasn't so much of a charmer,
and thanks her lucky stars that she did in the end
turn out to be a late bloomer.
I wish I'd tell her,
Oh if she'd listen, I'd tell her-
My dear, never once did your sheen waver,
Never once did your glory falter,
Through your clumsiness and your flaws
Through your missteps and your doubts,
You remained a stunner,
And will stay so, in your life and beyond,
For you are a perennial bloomer.
Ghazal Jun 2016
Cities aren't cities,
The people are the cities,
she'd say, and I didn't understand
what she meant until I realised

That Hauz Khas was our first stroll ever,
Khan Market- our best cup of coffee,
Humayun Tomb- our first stolen kiss,
Dilli Haat- our first quarrel,
The Lodhi Gardens- our biggest quarrel!
The Jama Masjid was where we'd always make up.

Now I know which market sells her favourite
bags, which gully keeps the anklets
she loves most, which discrete stall in the
by-lanes of Old Delhi is her best chaat-wallah ever,
Every nook, I know by the fragrance of her memory,
I try forget, I try erase,
But oh, I remember,
For she is my Delhi

Delhi is her, only her,
The city of first love, first dreams,
a million rights, a devastating wrong,
The city that now stings with the thorns
That make my feet bleed when I try to enter,
Even with my back turned,
The city hurls
Stones at my fragile heart and screams at me
to never return.
*I'll never return.
  Jun 2016 Ghazal
Professional Fangirl
She says she doesn't care
She says she doesn't care that her grades are dropping
She says she doesn't care if her dad hits her
She says she doesn't care that 'he' left her
She says she doesn't care when people criticize her all the time
She says she doesn't care that she has no friends
But, I know she does
I know what she doesn't say
She tries to hide the sadness but her eyes give her away
Whether it's the crimson on her wrists or
The way in which her breathing gets heavier when I walk past her explains it all
She cares because she dances in the rain when everyone takes cover
She is a poem in a world which is still learning the alphabet.
Ghazal May 2016
Medicine has no room for arrogance.
We don't just cure disease,
We cure humans.
The human body does always not go
by the books we've read or
the algorithms we've memorised,
The human body does not know
how famous we are, how much we earn.
The human body presents to us,
and places in our hands its life,
and trusts us with all it has,
to solve its puzzles.
Bizarre puzzles, really,
Sometimes so easy to piece together,
Sometimes turning more puzzling with
our attempts at deciphering
the meaning of the riddles it throws at us,
Sometimes a novice may solve them,
Irritating our egos but medicine
has no room for ego, either.

One can't be a doctor without
Selflessness, one can't be a healer
Without having one's feet planted
firmly on the ground, and the strength to
know that one can be wrong, and the
ability to question one's own reasoning,
And it isn't something we're taught,
It's something we build everyday by
Failing, fumbling, blundering, finally learning,
that's how the art of healing we acquire,
which is why, medicine isn't just a job-
It is a way of life.
Ghazal May 2016
When your conscience's clear like crystal
You set them off-balance,
For when they see you, and try
ever so hard to find faults in you,
All they see is themselves.
Because you are clean fresh dew!
Pure like sunlight; you act as a mirror
for the soul of the onlooker,
And so, as they peer into you looking
for deceit and dirt,
their own face stares right back at them,
ugly truth gloriously unfurled.
Your open goodness
irks them, agitates them, provokes them
to claw at you, use their might, to
destroy you and all that's right,
but little do they know that you-
are Invincible. Beautiful. Resilient.
Birthed from struggle.
Tempered by truth.
Chiseled by principles.
Challenged by adversities galore,
haven't you always conquered them all?
So shine! Shine with all your brilliance,
and no one can break you,
for your conscience is your greatest wealth,
for your conscience is your Kohinoor.
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