Best friend.

All alone in the dark night sky,
The insect’s whistling as your only lullaby;
The deep gurgling sound of water,
and the light moonlight shining bright;
They are your only friends , dark and gloomy as they are,
but being a friend they doesn’t treat your scars.
Deep inside your sock is sliding,
Afraid to tell your feelings you are hiding.
As you are passing through a door;
There he stands all cheery and pure,
he came in your life as a blessing,
With him you started distressing;
All your scars started to mend,
Yes he became your best friend.
You loved him with your feeble heart,
And that’s how a forever friendship starts;
he is your best friend and he gave you his time,
Both are connected from soul and of the same kind.
With him you can reach the sky ;
the ocean is your canvas and with the stars you stand by.
A fresh chapter in your story he penned;
Yes he became your best friend.
He rejuvenated your soul,
Treated you as his own,
Saved you from bad friends;
Yes he became your best friend.
All the breakups and heartbreaks,
he was there for you to be brave,
he is your strength he is your, weakness;
Yes he is your best friend.

~mehar malhotra




For me nothing can be more pure than the purest relationship between a caring grandmother and a loving granddaughter. The little equation they seem to have in this picture in the middle of a deep unspoken conversation of hearts. May the bond of love and purity , never cease to exist.

The heart betrays us all!

Four Little promises
Four different lives.
But the heart betrays them all.
Making promises to do better,
They say, “Hard work is the key its all that matters”.
Burying his nose half mindedly in the book to study;
He buries his dreams too.
The beats, the tunes in his mind,
Only set free when he let’s his fingers callus from the instrument.
Feeling the texture.
Little promises
But the heart betrays them all.
Making half hearted promises to be an engineer.
Casting aside the paintbrush that peeks,
The world of shades n tones is what his heart seeks.
The strokes of the brush are much more close to him,
Doing engineering, the chances are dim.
Little promises but the heart betrays them all.
Making promises to study abroad.
The army ad makes his heart bleed,
His patriotism is what this country needs.
The national anthem sparkles his eyes more than the scholarship,
All he wants is the camouflage n the battleship.
Little promises but the heart betrays them all.
Promises to be a software developer.
The click click of the mouse is a noise for him.
All it reminds him is the click of his camera.
The colours of life calling him;
The nature so picturesque smiling at him.
Forced to bury his desires,
He does not know anymore wat he aspires.
Little promises but the heart betrays them all.
All the fake promises and decisions.
The heart will betray them all;
And one day like a wake up call their promises n hearts will join hands.
Like the amalgamation of rivers, their heart n dreams will amalgamate too.
Happiness and sparkle will run through their veins.
And when happiness takes over your entire body,
U could never be more free.
To follow the path of the right call,
All it takes is to let the heart betray us all.
~mehar malhotra.

Pic~ mehar


Why does it happen that whom we love the most is the one who hurts us the most too … Why does the wound never fills in spite of all this time spent away from him …why does it happen that I forget it completely but everything comes back in front my eyes whenever I hear his name …why does it happen that each and every memory leaves a scar on the brain …why does it hurts so much to love ? Love ? Is it really love? Or is it some kind of torture acting as a slow poison in my life?… Why does it happen that I know he is wrong n gone but don’t want to accept the truth. why does it happen that I face every hardship
Of my life with strength but melts whenever a memory of his words sneaks its way in my brain… Why does it happen that whenever I came across him I still get those goosebumps… Why do I feel so jealous about all the girls I see him with? I knew from the start that its not gonna work but then why do I still expect something magical to happen ? Why do I still make up scenarios which are never gonna happen? Why do I still want to make him want me again? HE is the question and the answer too …he is the pain and the happiness too…he is the sadness and the excitement of my life too… He is gone but is still there too … He must be wonderful as how a person can perform two roles at once? Coz he is bad but at the same time good too…
But the question still remains …. Why does it feel so good to be hurt by him?
Will I ever move on ?” Can” I ever move on? Will I ever get the strength to push his words, his smile, his care, his love away? As all the love he gave me doesn’t exist anymore but why do I don’t understand that a matchstick called love is never gonna light if it gets wet with water called disloyalty.
“One more time we are strangers but this time with memories”

The drugs called ‘books’

And yet here I am , aching to know the story ahead.
Even a night’s sleep feels a burden on me;
Hating to part my ways from the story, hating to bow down to the needs of my body .
I sleep; but my mind is stuck at the story.
Thinking all possible endings and required twists , I drift off to sleep.
Waking in the middle of the night , there’s this ache again.
The ache of not reading, the ache of not completing the story. The characters ravaging through my brain, wrecking it.
Its like a drug , slowly making my brain itch furiously with the need to read.
Defeated, I pick up the book, dancing my fingers on it’s recycled paper; its gates opening to a welcoming , musty smell.
The brain slowly takes the drug in , contentment fills every nook of my body.
Yes the drug is working;
Few hours later I put the book down ; completed.
A feeling of satisfaction washes over me.
Sacrifice of a good night’s sleep feels worth it at that moment.
Yes I’m a drug addict.
The drug being characters;
The drug being words;
The drug being books.
Somewhere in the world of dread ,
I found my own Ecstasy.

Was it really her fault?

The dark sky stretched above her like a malicious witch’s cloak .
That was a no moon night. Just as there was an absence of moon there was an absence of hope for her too.
What had gone wrong?
What had she done ?
Was it really ‘her’ fault?
Her I’ll fate stood there staring at her, mocking her.
Her soul has been ripped. Her soul has been bruised brutally.
Her wounds held no significance in front the misery of her mind.
She had many questions in her mind….
Why did it happen?
Who were they?
Was it her fault? As the society stated..?
Were her rapist in jail ? Or were they planning to snatch another soul from an innocent body?
Laying there under the darkest sky of her life on the hard and cold floor she knew she’ll find the answers to her questions but little did she know that in this fickle minded society she’ll never find the answer to ” was it really ‘her’ fault”?