To A Sister

As the day of her marriage approaches
She becomes a synonym for cocktail of emotions
Sometimes happy for seeing all near and dear ones
At times fakes anger at pranks of cousins
And other-times sad for the all the memories she will leave behind

As I glance through the old photo albums
I can see thousand personas of her
Parent's obedient daughter, my secret keeper
Youngest sister's punchbag & best friend forever
And I cannot help but realize
You don't know what you have got till it is gone

God of Small Things

A permanent poser for digital memories of uninterested tourists

No longer he holds power over life & death, poverty & wealth

Nor he can cure diseases or make rain

Behind the iron bars, he is just an artifact of old days

Not long ago, thousands used to come to his door for a glance of his magnificence

Kings used to bend their knees and offer penance

But those days are long gone, lost between his prolonged sleep and late awakening

Now he is no more omnipotent but just a God of small things