Posted in Stories and Poems

Not my battle…

Running, shivering, panting, I chased you. You were my last battle. I came to you, crawling, did everything I could to have you. Only now do I realize that I destroyed myself in fighting for you.

For ’twas not my battle to fight. Loss or victory? I got neither. You were someone else’s, already fought for, already won. And all I was doing was trying to hold on
to a broken string. I was a house made of glass, I broke when I was invincible, broke after having hurt everything in my path. You didn’t break me by throwing stones, you broke me after adorning me with flowers.

Now I’m shattered, my heart doesn’t thud. Every day is longer than the last. Every second alone is a reminder of what I could never have. I’m trying to swim my way out of this black hole, trying to find solace in the fact that you’re with someone you want. But it still hurts. If only I could rewind all this, go back in time and change it…

Except I know I wouldn’t be able to do it, even if I could. Wouldn’t be able to stop myself from loving you, even if I knew it would hurt.

~Nehal


Posted in Stories and Poems

Look at me, I’ve changed

From the girl who used to laugh at her own lame joke,
To the girl who now gives only a vacant smile when told one,
I’ve changed.

From the girl whose presence seemed to light up the mood,
To the girl who now wants to hide to avoid being ignored,
I’ve changed.

From the girl who was sure nothing mattered more than her family,
To the girl whose reckless words now cause them pain every day,
I’ve changed.

From the girl who couldn’t understand how somebody could be “depressed”,
To the girl who now feels like she’s engulfed in a bubble of darkness,
I’ve changed.

From the girl who couldn’t ever hide her worries from her mother,
To the girl who has now learnt to cry herself to sleep,
I’ve changed.

Oh, how I’ve changed.

~Nehal


Bwahaha. Totally lost all ability to write something happy. This is just fiction, as always. I’m just living a life right now and having fun here and there lol 😛. Lemme know how you liked it!

Posted in Stories and Poems

See you again…

It’s been a long day,
And it never seems to end,
When will you be back?

Don’t you feel the same?
Don’t you want to come back too?
Don’t you want me too?

I want not more than
A glimpse, perhaps a whisper,
Of my name, from you.

But something tells me
That you’ve moved on, left me here,
Alone and broken.

All I’m doing now
Is trying to be okay,
But my heart’s a mess.

I miss you, and yet,
I’m glad you’re happier now.
Glad for your success.

I’ll be okay too,
Not now, but some other day.
And I’ll still love you.

I wish you good luck,
I hope we cross paths again,
Hope it’s not the end…

~Nehal


This was my first ever attempt at a haiku, and I wrote an entire poem using them 😂. I hope I didn’t do any mistakes though, lol. I’m so glad to finally have written a haiku(s). Hope you liked the poem. I personally found it awful but I don’t have anything else to post anyways so well. All criticism and feedback are more than welcome!

Posted in Stories and Poems

When You’re Scared, What Do You Feel?

When you’re scared, what do you feel?

Do you feel your teeth chatter involuntarily?
Or do you feel sweat stroking your forehead?

Do you feel alert and quick to react?
Or do you feel slow due to the heavy weight in your stomach?

Do you feel like you need the presence of someone?
Or do you feel like making solitude a companion?

Do you feel like you need to indulge in something that you love?
Or do you feel like nothing you do can make you feel better?

Do you feel like you momentarily stop breathing?
Or do you feel yourself registering your short, sharp breaths?

Do you feel yourself inclined to scream in terror?
Or do you feel too terrified to issue any sound?

Do you feel yourself tremble ceaselessly?
Or do you feel petrified, frozen, like you can’t even move a muscle?

When you’re scared, what do you feel?

~Nehal


This poem was my way of depicting how a person can feel two completely different emotions, at the same time, when they are scared. Though there are other ways to interpret it too. I hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought of it in the comments 😄.

Posted in Stories and Poems

Lost Innocence

An anxious crowd is gathered around the thickly covered body of a really familiar looking man. Nothing of his body is visible except his face which is devoid of emotion. He appears to be fast asleep. Beside him, hunching on the floor, is my mum, one of my aunts, and my Nani (my maternal grandma). The three of them are wailing and weeping, sobbing so hard they might never be able to stop. I am not allowed to go near them. All I know is that something isn’t right.

The people in the crowd may not have been there for all I know. It’s like all life exists in those three grief-stricken women. None of the onlookers are doing anything to calm their shaking bodies. I see brine glistening in many eyes. I cannot avert my gaze from the man in the midst of it all, lying there tightly bound, not moving. He looks really calm like he doesn’t care about the various people who are coming and gently stroking his face.

I walk away from them all, far back from it where my grandpa is sitting on a chair, looking just as sane as ever, just as calm. He takes me in his arms when I arrive.

“Who is that man, Baba?” I ask him.

He peers at me from behind his spectacles, and explains briefly, “He is your Nana Ji.”

“My Nana Ji?” I repeat. No wonder he looked so familiar.

“Yes,” he says. “Don’t you see?”

“Why is he lying like that, then. Why isn’t he moving?”

“He won’t move anymore,” Baba says.

“Why not?”

“His time in this world has ended. He will live with God now. He won’t live in this world anymore. He will live above,” he says, pointing up. “God has taken him.”

“What do you mean, Baba?”

“Everyone comes to live on this earth for a specific time. His time has ended, so he will not live here anymore.”

“But why isn’t he moving?”

“He can’t breathe. So, he can’t move.”

“You mean he is not breathing?” I say with wide eyes.

“He is dead, Vani. He will not breathe, not ever again.”

“You cannot breathe when you die?” I say, now no longer in his arms.

“Never,” he says.

“But how could he live without breathing!?”

“He cannot, that’s why he is dead. He has lived with us. Now, he will live with God.”

I don’t speak for a while so he turns his attention back to the crowd.

“Baba?” I say then.

“Hmm.”

“Why does he have to die?”

“He can’t live forever, none of us do. Everyone will die in the end. God will take all of us in the end.”

“Everyone?” I say, my breathing becoming rapid.

“Yes.” That’s all he says.

One of the people I loved the most in the whole wide world had just planted in me the seed of explanation of something that would grow swiftly and would haunt me for a really long time. I walk away, unable to get it all. My six-year-old brain failing to comprehend it all. I didn’t understand it. Not then.

Eight Years Later:

I break down in the back seat of the car. The stress of the day has been too much for me and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t even try to hide my tears so our driver sees me and exclaims, “Vani, why are you crying!?”

I can’t answer because what is there to say.

“Vani, why are you…tell me!” he says again, sounding astonished.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” I manage to say. “It’s such a stressful environment. The whole day has just been…” I falter.

“He’ll be alright,” he says, finally understanding. “You are such a wise girl, why should you cry?”

He calls my father then and tells me that he will meet me on the way. We stop at Synergy Hospital, I don’t go inside. My father appears then. He doesn’t look tensed, just a little preoccupied.

They both watch me, and my dad talks about stuff that I feel doesn’t matter anymore, like what did I do at my friend’s house, how was my day. There are more things to worry about. I speak less, it’s hard to speak openly when my insides are closing with refrain from showing my emotions. I finally say, but it comes out more like a croak, “Papa, will Baba be alright?”

“Yes, of course,” is his instant response. He goes on to explain just how better his condition has gotten, and just like that, I feel better talking to him, hearing him speak with that tone of his that could never suggest anything but the best. Yet when the car moves on and I am back in the company of my own thoughts, I can’t shake off the feeling that all won’t be alright.

I understand now, all of it, more than I ever want to. And, in a sense, I wish I didn’t.

~Nehal


Posted in Stories and Poems

A Letter From Your English Teacher

I have only one thing to say to thee, thou must learn the art of porper puntcuatoin, and grammar skilis. From who” thou asketh; It’s me 🙂. 

Dear students,

It was good to hear from you, thanks for writing to me you totally did not write to me but okay 🙂. I hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits, as is the most boring way to start any letter, as any experienced English teacher cough me cough cough might tell you.

I am writing this letter because there is something that struck my pensive mind the other day when I was gazing passively at the stars, reminiscing the golden years I spent as a youth, and as I pondered about the wonderous aspects of life as we see it now, I realized that I might as well share my advanced knowledge to delinquent students, such as yourselves.

And I don’t mean to offend you in any possible way, no, not at all…😇. I’m merely concerned about the fact that what if something were to happen to me this day? Or say tomorrow or the day after that? Who would tell you about the impeccably invaluable things that your misbehaved minds must know at such a tender age?

Now, I won’t bore you with details, and get straight to the point, because in the words of the remarkable Miles Davis-

I suppose it must be quite clear to you that I’m not the person who likes wasting time. That is why when I was correcting your hastily scribbled English papers I got infuriated because that is exactly what I felt I was enduring- time waste. Ahem, you see, your English papers were quite…well, let’s just say that they were…something.

*deep breath* Okay, here goes-

From misspelling “receive” as “recieve”, to using “thought” after “didn’t”, the number of errors in the grammar of the papers was devastating 🤯! I was quite positively alarmed at the absurdity of the blunders you dared to make! Seriously, have I not taught you anything?! Have all these years of teaching you that the word “despite” does not require an “of” been a mere waste of my precious time 😵?! I mean, how hard is it to remember that “year” only has one syllable, and not two!? And why, why would you think that when Bassanio was talking about the golden fleece, he was actually referring to the fleece, when the fleece was just a metaphor for the uNiMaGiNaBlE bEaUtY oF pOrTiA!?

😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤

I am so angry! I have never met a batch of students so utterly thoughtless and imbecile! Not to mention, the number of pupils who put a comma after “nevertheless” was enough to give me an existential crisis! If only my subject was that easy! Do you even know the basic concepts of English!? Because at this point, I am sure you cannot even spell common words like “sesquipedalian”, which for your kind information, means “relating to long words” 🙄. The juniors did so much better than you (they did worse actually, but you don’t need to know that). But you won’t study because you think my subject is oh-so-easy. Well if it’s that easy, try answering this ☺!

I’m sure your puny little brains can’t answer that. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT IS NEITHER YES NOR NO 😩! It is the third, secret option, you daft fools! You are too busy thinking about gravity and circles and winds and X and Y chromosomes and anything related to any subject but mine to be able to use your brain in logical matters for significant questions like THIS!

Absurdly ludicrous! Outrageously preposterous! Incredibly insane! Never have I felt the curse so strongly upon the Jewish nation! I am so disappointed in you that I cannot even-

*deep breaths* I’m trying to calm down now.

Well, I’m not so sure this much amount of vexation is good for my blood pressure. So I might as well get to the point of what I wanted to tell you through this letter right away, which is none other than…

YOU’RE FAILING!😡

Yours exasperatedly,
Mrs. Adverb,
Your English Teacher,
From a room in Portia’s house in Belmont.


Well, that was fun to write, hehe.

Check out my other post: A Letter from Your Maths Teacher.

That one was quite a hit, all credits to Akshita’s post- A Letter from Algebra. And so, I decided to do a similar one, and here we are. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you liked it. Do check out Akshita’s post, it was hilarious!

Posted in Stories and Poems

Demon in me

So here is something different. This is a poem on a very serious issue in society. It is fiction and not inspired by real events. I would have put a trigger warning but I do not want to spoil what the poem is about. Instead, I will say that the intended audience for this post is 14+.


He knows they can’t take it anymore,
And yet, he’s still torturing them.
When he speaks again, his words cut deep into her flesh,
Sending a jolt through her heart,
As her head snaps to attention.

A cold smile lingers on his face,
As he contemplates his next victim.
His eyes roam hungrily over them all,
Trying to locate the weakest.
She shifts in her seat,
Dread seeping through every pore of her body.

She can feel the waves of collective terror,
Radiating from each of them,
As they inwardly pray to be spared from his wrath.
And just when it gets hard to breathe,
He says her name,
A smug look flashing across his face,
At the panic in her eyes.

She swallows hard, knowing the worst has come,
Wishing so badly for it to be a dream.
She rises slowly,
Trembling from head to foot.
He drags her, then he pushes her,
Into the dirty, cramped room.

Her breathing quickens,
Till the air seems to be squeezed out of her lungs,
And she desperately tries to push him away,
But it doesn’t work.
He slams her down hard against the cold floor.
She’s gasping, wailing, she’s close to fainting,
But he doesn’t care.
They never do.

And then he does it.
The moment he enters her,
He has unleashed all the demonic cruelty
Anyone can ever possess.
She doesn’t gasp now, doesn’t say a word anymore,
For something inside of her breaks,
Shattering into tiny pieces she can’t put together.

She breaks, in a way she’s never broken before.
She lies there, hurt and shivering in the dark,
The sound of his maniacal laughter,
Burning itself into her memory.
She closes her eyes, and waits,
The only freedom that she is allowed.

And when it’s over, she walks out,
Into the same group who are still holding their breaths,
Dreading the inevitable, dreading what she had just faced.
They notice the lack of tears on her face,
The lack of emotion on her face.
She does not cry, not yet.

But there will be nights,
When she would muffle the howls that escape her throat with her blanket.
There will be days,
When she won’t see the sun and feel its heat,
But feel the dark closing in on her.
There will be times,
When she won’t recognize who she is anymore,
Used and twisted by a monster, lost whatever she used to be.

Lost her essence,
Lost her laughter,
Lost herself.
She thought she knew how to handle pain,
But it turns out,
That numbness is a worse feeling.

Some wounds are just too deep to be healed.

~Nehal


This poem depicts a group of girls who have somehow been trapped by a rapist. The girls are powerless to prevent what the man intends to do them. The poem is inspired by a similar event that I read in- All The Light We Cannot See.

Rape is an issue I never thought I would ever write on, or have the guts to publish, but looking back on the poem I wrote- The Cold Wait, I realized I can twist the ending and it would be a great way to make a poem to address this issue. If I have a blog and a voice, if I have content that people read, and if I have the power of being heard, it would be a shame to not use it to create awareness. THIS CRIME MUST STOP! Rape isn’t just physical torture, it is something that ruins a girl forever in ways I don’t ever want to imagine. So please, spread awareness, show support! This crime just has to stop!!

I don’t have much else to say, but I’ll link a blog post. Rape- A henious crime by Riddhi @ Whispering Stories. Please read this!! Also, thanks to Tiction @ Fictionally Crazy for coming up with such a great title.


Posted in Stories and Poems

To miss you…

When someone leaves you, it doesn’t hit you the way you would expect.

For instance, it doesn’t hit you when you find yourself sleeping alone for the first time in days. It hits you when you realize that you’ve started to feel familiar with the way you close your eyes to pretend that the room isn’t dark and hold on to your blanket as if you need to know someone is there. 

It doesn’t hit you when you realize that you have to clean your room on your own now that they’re gone. It hits you when you realize that you’ve been doing it for so long now that it feels like the new normal.

It doesn’t hit you when you see that the room is devoid of their smiling face. It hits you when you realize that something just feels off in a way you can’t put your finger on.

It doesn’t hit you when you wonder if you’re ever going to have late-night talks with them again. It hits you when you realize that the miserable quiet of the night seems almost sweet in a painful way.

It doesn’t hit you when you talk to them after days and realize how ordinary it feels. It hits you when you realize that you don’t want to talk to them at all because it’s so much easier not to think about them.

Missing someone doesn’t come all of sudden. It comes slowly. Like the bittersweet transition of summer into autumn. It comes to you just when you think you had learned how to live without that person.

Until you realize that you can’t.

~Nehal


I think this is fiction, yeah 😗. Hope you enjoyed it!

Posted in Stories and Poems

Broken

I feel a little empty inside,
A little dejected.
I feel like a cloud has swallowed me,
A cloud that is grey,
And dark.
And I don’t know what to do to about it.

I feel a little empty inside,
A little dejected.
I involve myself in my favorite things,
But don’t take part in them.
I want to,
But I can’t.
And I don’t know what to do about it.

I feel a little empty inside,
A little dejected.
I feel like the world is moving on,
And I’m just drifting along with it,
Alone and lost,
Not knowing or caring where I’m going.
And I don’t know what to do about it.

I feel a little empty inside,
A little dejected.
As if I’ve lost the meaning,
Of everything that once meant the world to me.
I feel passive, inactive.
And so tired.
And I don’t know what to do about it.

I feel a little empty inside,
A little dejected.
And I don’t know what to do about it,
And I am not sure if I want to,
Not sure if I can.

I feel like I’m broken.

~Nehal


Don’t worry, ’tis fiction. Hope you liked reading it, a bit intense though it was.

Ps– A very very happy badday to Kripaa @ Dream Diaries! Hope you have the awesomest day, lah!! 😃🎉 And send me a slice of the cake too 🤩.

Posted in Stories and Poems

A Monotonous Exam

I tap the back of the pen against my forehead,
And glance over to the clock.
The boredom and tension of the room is palpable,
Every student is looking around,
Hoping for something even mildly interesting to happen.
I lean back on my chair,
My feet start tapping on the ground,
I hastily scribble a line of Simon Commission,
Marvelling that highlighting points did help after all.
I lean further back and the chair’s front legs get lifted from the floor,
I think hard and another line comes to my head,
But just as I’m about to write,
I realize that I’ve pushed the chair too far,
And the next thing I know the air is knocked out of me,
And BAM!
I hit the floor,
The thud of the fall snapped kids to attention.
A round of muffled laughter erupts from the classroom,
Everyone glad for the distraction,
I get up, slightly flushed, and sit back down,
Surprisingly finding myself fighting a smile.
The teacher bangs her duster on the table,
Demanding “pin-drop silence”.
In just a moment, the glee is gone,
And a hush falls over the class,
As everybody starts wracking their brain for non-elusive answers,
Slipping once again into the surrealism of the exam.

~Nehal


Credits for the prompt go to Tiction @ Fictionally Crazy! Thanks, lah 😃. So, I wrote this without giving too much thought, and it turned out fine. It would have been much better as a short story, I guess, but I am too lazy to change it now. I’m just mostly glad that there’s still a part of me that can write poems and stories that aren’t all sad 😂. I hope you liked it!!