Posted in Stories and Poems

The Cold Wait

He knows we can’t take it anymore,
And yet, he’s still torturing us.
When he speaks again, his words cut deep into my flesh,
Causing a jolt through my heart,
As my head is snapped to attention.
A cold smile lingers on his face,
As he contemplates his next victim,
His eyes roaming hungrily over us all,
Trying to locate the weakest.
I shift on my seat,
Dread seeping into every pore of my body,
I can feel the waves of collective terror,
Radiating from each of us,
As we inwardly pray,
To be spared from his wrath.
And just when it gets hard to breathe,
He says my name,
A smug look flashing across his face,
At the terror in my eyes.
I swallow hard, knowing the worst has come,
Wishing so badly for it to be a dream.
I rise slowly,
Trembling from head to foot,
As my teacher asks me to answer his next question.


Posted in Stories and Poems

A Letter From Your Maths Teacher

Disclaimer: This post is totally meant for fun, I am in no way trying to hurt or offend any teachers out there. In my heart, I hold respect for all teachers and this post is just humour I tried my hand at, no offense intended to anyone.

Dear students……..bear with me 🙂.

Considering 40 minutes with me per day take away the purpose of saying “good morning”, I wouldn’t bother doing it. It’s not like I do not know how you all wish some really creative things to happen to me so that I’m unable to attend your class, but being the very generous person that I am, I will pretend that I do not know.

Oh, by the way, for you final exam next month, the paper is going to be super hard, despite that I will tell you the otherwise. The questions that are supposedly important will definitely not be there. And to break all stereotypes, I do not make the paper so hard because I’ve had a fight with my wife. The mere reason I do it is because I love torturing kids 🙂.

Oh yeah, I’m not scared to admit it. You wanna know why I hate y’all so much, here’s why:

You think I don’t know how you make fun of me and my beloved subject 😤. You think I have no idea why you all giggle when I say “sec” theetha in trigonometry 🙄. I mean, dirty minds do think alike after all, but still, it’s just a value! Get real kids, get rational (no pun intended)! Ha, see, I can joke too 😎.

Oh, by the way, do you seriously think I care about your silly “x”!? Cuz I freaking don’t. You think I’m an idiot that I refuse to answer your silly algebraic doubts by saying they are for “higher” classes, but actually, I’m just too lazy to answer them when they are so simple that I would definitely not give them in the exam. In reality…


*Meanwhile in the background, the children snicker at the ignorance of the teacher who has no idea of the hidden meaning behind what he just said*

All I care about is teaching you the most terrifyingly hard questions and then giving those same terrifyingly hard questions multiplied 62-7+84-65-21+75-36-80+8-10 times in exams (Oh yeah, you need to do the Math here, everything won’t be given to you on a silver platter 🙂), cuz I’m just doing this job to get money and I might as well gain some pleasure seeing y’all’s pretty little faces crying during exam time.

Oh, and just when you think that you have, by some miracle, got good marks in your test, this is what I will do.

See, who says I don’t have a heart 😄!?

Oh wait, that’s you, isn’t it 🙂? You think I don’t have a heart, you are the ones who say I am crue–

Oh wait, my wife is calling me, I gotta go….

*2 minutes later*

Oh no, she seems to be in a foul mood…

*3 minutes later*

Oh no, looks like we are gonna have a fight!

*20 minutes later*

*To prevent the post from becoming PG-13, the editor of this post has carefully removed the subsequent amount of cursing that follows*

*An hour later*

*another curse* Ugh, I am so angry 😡. Why does she hate me so much!? I mean, the person who suggested the joke that plants grow “square roots” in Maths class was totally not me, now was it 🙄!? Is that something to fight about? I’m oh-so angry, ugh! I need to let this anger out….what do I do, what do I do!?….

….Oh, I know just what to do 😏😈.

*The next day*

The children have been given the very pleasing news by their teacher that their Maths Paper has been made…and it is going to be as easy as…pie…

No. Pun. Intended.

Yours torturously,
Mr. X,
Your Maths Teacher,
From Sincostan Land of Rational Pies.

A big thanks and credits to Akshita @ akshita1776 for the inspiration. She is a blogger with the most creative mind when it comes to irony and humor in her stories, this post is totally totally inspired by her post: A Letter from Algebra. An amazing read, you must not miss it out!!

Once again, this post was in no way serious or criticizing to anyone. It was written just for fun. If you’re a teacher and was, in any way, hurt by this post, I sincerely apologize.

That’s all. I hope you enjoyed this post, my little attempt at it 😁. Let me know all your thoughts and criticism. Thanks once again to Akshita for the inspiration!

Posted in Stories and Poems

That day…

It was the day when I let out my frustration on her,
The day I wasn’t there for her,
The day when she needed me the most.

It was the day when she couldn’t take away my pain,
The day she was the reason for my pain,
The day I finally knew what pain actually is.

It was the day when I didn’t humor her,
The day I let my pride come in the way,
The I day I let myself be myself, just for once.

It was the day when life felt too cruel,
The day it felt cruel enough for me to hurt her,
The day I will regret the most.

I lost a friend that day.


Posted in Stories and Poems


What follows is a really long poem I wrote for my mother last year. It took every ounce of strength to publish it, it is very intimate and I never thought it would be possible for me to do it. It may not be that good, it is indeed too long, and you can skim read it if you want. What matters to me is that I found the courage to actually publish it. That in itself is enough for me.


I will still love you, no matter what!
And if I don’t, then it’s not me anymore.
For I will have lost myself forever,
If I ever stop loving you.

Hello Mamma,
It’s me- Nehal.
The girl who wants a write a poem for you,
But is not sure how she can say, what hasn’t already been said.

When I was younger, I used to ponder,
How people can change when they grow up,
Just because they grow up.
How one year can make such a difference
How something that seems impossible,
Can actually at some point occur
Right before your eyes.

I may not be the best daughter ever.
I may not be the daughter that loves her mother,
More than any daughter ever can.
I may not be the Arjun who puts his palms,
Under the chin of his mother,
To collect her tears before they hit the ground.
But I still love you.

If there is anything that really makes me feel like a sinner,
Is how I have treated you, Mamma.
I have said harsh things to you in my anger.
I love you and I know you know it,
I know that it feels enough for you.
But that is not enough for me, Mamma.
I just wish I were a better daughter.

You know I hate chores,
That I hate cooking, making tea, and all the other rubbish
But I still do them for you.
You know I do not like self-serving my own food,
But I still do it.
I may get angry when I have to do all this stuff,
But I still do them, Mamma, I still do them.
For you.

And I know all these are nothing compared
To what you have done for me,
For my dad, for my Di.
But that’s the best way I can help you Mamma.
That’s the best way I can show my love.
You say to me that I have changed, because I have grown up.
Do you think I don’t say it to myself every single day?

You have gone through more than I ever want to go through.
And maybe that’s why when I feel like I may have to go through it too,
I get angry.
But Mamma, my anger is just a side aspect of my personality.

Maybe I am writing this poem,
To make you know that I love you,
Or maybe I am writing it because you deserve it.
Or maybe, I am writing it to make myself know,
And believe, that I love you.
That when I feel like a monster,
I can look at these words and say that I’m not one.

You may not be my ideal,
Or my inspiration.
You may not be the one I can be myself with anymore,
And maybe that is indeed because I have changed.
But I hate it.
I hate feeling this way.
I hate feeling that I am changing,
That there may come a point,
When I can longer be even a little bit of who I am now.

And maybe that is why I am writing this poem right now.
Maybe I am so scared of myself that I need you to know:

That when several years from now,
If, not when, but IF-I don’t know how big or small that if is but,
If you can no longer see me in myself then,
I just want you to know:

That the 14 year old writing this,
Cannot contain her tears right now.
That this girl, your daughter, is scared of herself,
And so scared she is, that sometimes, the fear is so unbearable,
That it gets hard to breathe.
I want you to know that I DO not want to become what I might.
That at times I really wish that the devil snatches my life from me before I can become that person.

I want you to remember this Nehal forever.
Not the one I may or may not grow up to be.
I want you to remember me as the girl who cries too much,
Who cares too much, who fears too much.
Who has cried with you, and who is crying for you now.
Who has happily made food when you couldn’t,
Even though she hates cooking.
Who corrects you when you pronounce something wrong,
Not to insult you, or to appear superior,
But to make sure nobody else can make you feel that way.
Who has shouted at you when she is oh-so-angry,
But has come, apologized and always hugged you later.
I want you to remember me as the selfless, selfish girl,
As the person who never really treated you like a mom,
But like her closest friend.
I want you to remember me as someone
Who cannot hide anything from you,
Who tells you too much,
Who finds it hard to lie to you.
I want you remember me as the person,
Who did you work, grunting with anger,
But did it nonetheless.
I want you to remember me as someone,
Who always knows when you are sad,
When you are trying to look happy,
And hates it when you do it.
Because you are not you when you act that way.


I shout to the world right now,
I shout to the skies and the winds and the trees,
And to every single thing that hears me, and I scream:



But then again, I do not want anyone else to be your daughter,
For I know it for sure,
I know it deep down at the very bottom of my heart,
That no matter what I have been to you,
No matter what I haven’t been to you,
No matter how horrible I think I am,
I know that nobody alive can possibly love you as much I do.

I love you mummy!
I love you so much.
And it is my love that speaks,
That if I ever, ever, EVER change,
Just remember:

That there was a 14 year old who loved you when you did not love yourself.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mumma. Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful mothers out there, forever bringing sunshine into the lives of their children ❤️.

Posted in Stories and Poems

Like everything is normal…

Liking posts, commenting, reading blogs,
Trying to distract myself
Like everything’s normal.
Using laughing emojis and exclamations,
Like everything’s normal.
Publishing fun, happy posts written long ago,
Like everything’s normal.
Chatting with friends between classes,
Like everything’s normal.
Giving a small, empty smile
At the thought of about-to-be-500 followers,
Like everything’s normal.
Attending all tuitions, trying to cope with homework,
Like everything’s normal…

‘Cause that’s what it is, isn’t it?
Everything is…normal.
Everything’s just sooooo freaking normal!

Never knew so much could happen in someone’s life and nobody could ever have the faintest clue.

But everything’s normal,
Isn’t it?
I’m not hurting.
Everything is….normal.




Posted in Stories and Poems

Lost her forever …

Maybe she called me a liar,
Maybe she refused to trust me anymore,
Maybe she walked away when I needed her,
But what matters is that I didn’t forgive her.

Maybe she ignored me like I meant nothing,
Maybe she told that me that she didn’t need me to add to her troubles,
Maybe she stopped looking at me like a friend,
But what matters is that I didn’t forgive her.

Maybe her teasing turned to insulting,
Maybe she stopped caring about my feelings,
Maybe she realized her mistakes too late,
But what matters is that I didn’t forgive her.

Maybe she said sorry,
Maybe I felt that it was just too late,
Maybe I was too proud to forgive her.

And maybe, I lost her forever.


Posted in Stories and Poems

The Unwelcome Visitor

Something walked upto me. It took me a moment to realise that that something was actually a person. But you can’t blame me for taking time to figure it out. That someone was exceptionally thin and he looked so light in colour that he would’ve blended in the street easily if he had tried, though it looked like he hadn’t tried because I could see him alright. Well, I could see through him for he was almost transparent. What a queer sight!

He stopped walking when he was about 2 feet away from me. His form seemed to waver in the slight wind, and it was hard to make out anything much of his appearance. “Hello,” he said, politely.

I mean, it would’ve been rude not to reply, so I did.

“Hi,” I said, uncertainly.

“Can you tell me the name of your neighbours’ daughter?” he asked me, pointing to the house to my left.

“Yeah, Why?” I asked.

“I will be…. visiting her,” he smiled wickedly at his words as if he meant much more than that.

“Oh! Umm…,” I looked at him oddly, squinting to make out anything of his face, then sighed when I wasn’t able to come to a conclusion. “Her name is Alice,” I replied finally.

“Ok then, thanks. I’ll see you later.” And even though his eyes were barely visible, I could just make out a sparkle in them as he smiled that same lopsided grin of his, looking as though he was planning mischief. Then he turned to go. He had almost reached her house’s front door when I called, “Who are you?”

He turned around and looked at me in a way that suggested he thought I was mad.

“Don’t you know me? I am all over the news.” He smiled again, proudly this time. When I didn’t reply, he said slowly, with a hiss, “Why, I am Corona, of course.”

*Awkward silence for 60 seconds*

*60 seconds later*

“K…?” I said awkwardly. He smiled again and turned to leave but I called out hurriedly, “Wait!”

He turned to look at me again but I didn’t know what to say. I mean, you don’t often meet people like Corona and just know how to make small talk with them.

“You aren’t here to infect me, are you?” I asked after a lot of thought.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not complaining, are you?”

“No, of course not. Not at all. Not one bit. I was just…curious.” I gulped, suddenly regretting putting forth the question.

He sighed. “No, of course not. Not for now, at least. You’ve got your mask on. And I have already observed you. You will wash your hands and face after you go in. So it’s totally pointless to visit you for now.”

“Oh!” What he said didn’t make much sense to me. My eyes and ears weren’t covered. He could still affect me through them. But since he seemed too dumb to notice, I totally decided against mentioning it.

I saw him reaching her house’s door, he waved to me excitedly and I blinked, and then waved back, awkwardly. Then he touched her door handle lightly and said, “I’ll just stay here for a while.”

“For how long?” I asked grimly.

“As long as it takes for her to touch me,” he answered with a huge smile, that could only mean something evil. Then he vanished, mingling perfectly into the surroundings, leaving me staring blankly at the door handle.

*Weird silence for 60 seconds*

*60 seconds later*

I turned round and ran into my house, shutting the door behind me. I took my phone out, and with hurried urgency, dialled Alice’s number.


Posted in Stories and Poems

Dear Papa….

You taught me to love,
And to love with all my heart,
But what matters more is that
You gave me a reason to love.

You taught me to be attached,
In a way that is not consuming, but free.
But what matters more is that
You gave me a reason to be attached.

You taught me to be fierce,
In a bold, reckless way,
But what matters more is that,
You showed me a reason to be fierce.

You taught me to crack a joke,
And laugh hard in the worst of situations,
But what matters more is that,
You gave me a reason to laugh.


You taught me to live,
And to just live it up,
But what matters more Papa,
Is that you gave me not one,
But a thousand reasons to live.


Happy Birthday Papa 💖!! The most supportive, understanding, brave and amazing person. You own my heart and you own the world. Have the best birthday ever. Love you loads.

Posted in Stories and Poems


The creature inside of her surged upward, threatening to come out. She tried to keep it at bay, tried to push it deep down for as long as she could, but only a part of her could resist it. The other part was screaming for it to burst through, and she thrashed, hopelessly dangling between two decisions- whether to let it out or not, whether to allow that creature to come out and take control over her body, her heart, and transform her into the monster she had always feared she would become, or to push, push, push, and push more, one more time, till it ceases its force upon her, and live with the pain that it causes…forever!

It all comes down to one choice- for how long will she be able to resist it?


Posted in Stories and Poems

I’ll Miss You

Those fights and cries make me smile.
Those smiles and laughs make me cry.

Clean, little miss perfect that you are,
The house is spic and span.
Not one pen is out of place,
Not one item litters the rooms.
That’s when I notice:
Every object is shoved into my cupboard.

I dash into your room,
Desperate for revenge.
I ruin the perfectly made bed
And smile with satisfaction
At the look of anger on your face,
But a little unexpected guilt can be felt.

I wonder now as I look at the house:
It won’t remain so clean when you leave.
I wonder if I would feel elated
When I see the house devoid of its sickening tidiness,
Or if I would feel a sense of tidying it up myself
Just to make sure your essence still lingers.

You don’t like me sharing your bed,
Well, it’s not like I am a fan of it either.
I desperately want to sleep more comfortably
Alone, without you controlling the room’s temperature
Or constantly opening the light,
Indifferent to my indignant protests.

I realise now what an impact your long presence has had.
For years, we only get to see you after months.
But now as it’s a pandemic, we stay together for months.
And suddenly the heart warming idea of having my own bed
Sends shivers down my back,
When I think how much your reassuring presence next to me had meant.

As always you are on your phone right now
Quite oblivious to the fact that I am writing about you.
People marvel at the fact that you are my big sister,
I mean, there is a whole 13 year difference between our ages.
That’s the reason why you can buy me novels, you’re older,
But that’s also the reason why you usually stay apart.

You are a true beauty,
I love fighting with your pretty face.
That’s the time I can always say that “I Hate You”.
But what I hate is when we don’t talk for days.
It’s frustrating that in the end,
It’s always me who wants to be friends again.

I’ll miss you for sure
Now that we have stayed together for so long.
Every time I say that you are the worst person ever,
I know it’s not true.
Every time I swear that I won’t cry when you leave,
I weep harder.

And all of a sudden, I feel
That I could bare a  thousand chilling nights
Just to be able to sleep by your side.
One hug from you and I know I’ll have sweet dreams.
One “choooozaaa” from you is enough for the night
And I’ll try to ignore that you will be on your phone until 3 a.m.

Oh! How much I love you!
So much that it actually hurts.
So much that since as long as I can remember,
I’ve been making “Welcome Home Di” cards for you.
Something seems to be stuck in my eyes and I blink hard,
I frown at the person who makes me feel this way,
And all of a sudden, I feel better.