To The Women Who Made Me

To the first woman I ever knew,

Who carried me close, whose love stays true—

My mother, my courage, my guiding star,

Her strength and wisdom have brought me far.

Then came a sister, a healer so bright,

Her hands mend wounds, and her heart gives light.

Through every struggle, through every win,

She stands beside me—my closest kin.

To the teachers who shaped my youthful mind,

Urging my light to shine, unconfined.

Aunts, cousins, friends and sisters-in-law,

Each leaving wisdom that filled me with awe.

NishaMadhulika, a culinary queen,

Once unseen, now on every screen.

Before the internet sang her praise,

She ruled the kitchen in the golden days.

To women of history, fierce and grand—

Kiran Bedi’s courage, Jhansi’s stand.

To heroines drawn from ink and lore,

Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, and many more.

And Lily Singh, with humor and grace,

Breaking barriers, carving space.

Nidhi, Jaclyn, Seema Anand, too,

Voices that teach, inspire, and renew.

Pop stars who sing my spirit alive,

Through their art, they help me thrive.

In life, in stories, in songs they weave,

Women who teach me how to believe.

For all who lifted me when people pulled me down,

Who taught me to wear strength as my crown—

Your fire fuels me, your love sustains,

Through every loss, through every gain.

You gave me wings so I could soar,

To dream, to love, to be much more.

Comments

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Polished Sins

A suit and tie, that polished smile, Covering up sins stacked mile by mile. They flaunt “new love,” someone else’s child— A ready-made story, perfectly styled. They’ve “levelled up,” or so they preach, But on someone’s pain, they made their reach, With vows of loyalty, words so neat, While another’s screams lie beneath their feet. Oh, they “moved on” to brighter skies, Leaving someone broken, with silent cries. They mount new heights, they shout and boast— Scaling peaks on another's haunted ghost. So smile for the camera, flash your pride, Show off the life that you tried to hide. For we know the truth beneath your gleam— A hollow show, a self-made scheme.

Till You Sing

Some would say men went to war for women like you, But I would still choose war if it meant choosing you. You say you write in amorous lines, But I would let you be the woman of my tribe. You had your adventures Under The Buda Moon, But have you been loved past noon? So I can see you shine like a magical flower, In the quiet warmth of the golden hour. The invisible strings pull at my heart Can I do justice to your name? Caress you right, Till you sing like a Carnatic hymn. Inspired by the author of Under The Buda Moon, Veena Rao

Cruising Alone

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