Salt in my hair

I feel a lot of salt in my hair today

The kind of salt that makes your hair grey

The kind of salt you gotta earn

The kind of salt that soothing sea breeze gets in your hair

I feel a lot of salt in my hair today.

Sailing on this boat with Gary, the seagull

I do not feel alone today

I have the wind, the sunshine, happy birds, fishes,

All sailing along with me in this journey called life.

I feel a lot of salt in my hair today.

Salt, which people gave me so kindly when I ran out of it

Salt, that made my life spicier if not sweet

Salt, which I can carry proudly to my grave.

There are very few things in life that makes you laugh like a child

Even fewer, which make you live like a child

I found the treasure of those things today, and I am a happy child.

I feel a lot of salt in my hair today.

Is Capital Punishment enough?

For all these years, while my parents made me so dauntless never differentiating anything between me and my brother, giving us the same upbringing, education, power to exude thoughts, opinion and personality; I feel a bit weak today.

I thought with education and better technology and facilities we were striving towards a better world of consciousness but I realize that I was sadly mistaken. Past few years have not only shown me the real India in newspapers, but close personal accounts from friends and families where violence, dowry deaths and sabotaging the women existence is so normal even in highly educated and so called up market families, I doubt the confidence a woman should still have.

While she died today out of no reason, brutally tortured and stripped of the self-esteem of all the Indian women, I wonder if Capital Punishment is enough. Our elected politicians still make shameless statements in public glare, the selected policemen still make lewd remarks if you seek for help alone as a woman, the top officials and Government in power are busy saving their ass rather than being actually apologetic or thoughtful about the situation. A Capital Punishment announcement might pacify the protests but will it change the mentality and fake power every other Delhi-te thinks he has? What guarantee are we getting that such kind of incident won’t happen again and we can walk in the city alone without fear?

While I feel a bit fearful now and will take precautions to not take a late night cab from airport or roam in the city late alone even if I have a craving to eat something from Delhi-Haat, being given an example of this incident again and again, I really wish that it’s the mentality that changes. There are many women who have to venture out for reasons more grave to support their families and have to take a risk every day! I really wish that education and power is utilized for a better purpose and women in India are given a respectful platform if not equal.

RIP. Hope you have gone to a better world.

In a relationship with my car

* Dedicated to my dhanno, kinda lost it I guess writing a silly poem for her, but here it goes

Me and my car are like strings and guitar
We smile; we laugh together and go very far
Singing silly songs driving on the shiny roads of tar
We often get a little tipsy trying to be at par

My car is my home, my workplace, a hotel
She has got a random mood that no one can tell
As she strides jauntily from heaven to hell
I tag along merrily, exploring under its spell

She has got the warmth to light up any fire
She can rise up the spirits and the wild desires
She looks beautiful, dancing in the rain choirs
Oh, she gleams and glitters like a sleek sapphire

I could go on and on singing its praise
But she hates being discussed and likes her space
Of all the good and bad, that I had to face,
Baby, you are my sanity, my companion to lead this chase

Mumbai Rains

Sweet and Salty drops of water running down my cheeks
Peek-a-boo misty curtains giving a sneak peek
Dark clouds and muddy water in overflowing drains
Feel the familiar air as I slither through the Mumbai Rains

Each frame here has got so much to speak
An untold story, a crazy life going from loud to meek
As I spot the locals running swiftly over land and water
I get a reassurance that nothing has changed even after the slaughter

The spirit of human soul is still burning bright
One can only attempt to destroy the body in sight
The invisible mind is still free, ready to fight again
Surviving against all odds, sipping the cutting chai in Mumbai Rains

A vagabond piece of paper

A little tramp scribbled nothings on me, learning to write
Spotted me later with the meat ball gravy and crumbs of pie
Before I could try, to clean myself and let out a sigh,
I was rolled mercilessly into a clod and thrown away with all the might.

I was a spotless white sheet of paper
But now feel nothing less than a leper
Flying away from one window to another
Trying to survive with as much strength I can gather

Things got worse, as I got stuck beneath a small stone
And it began to rain making me sweat and cry alone
Suddenly a cheerful cherub picked me overjoyed in the rain
Straightened me and turned me into a boat, simple and plain

The kind bairn also set me free in a stream of river
And I embarked on the journey a little afraid letting a quiver
The trail was remarkable emblazoned with the beautiful sights,
And the carefree wind pushed me through as the guiding light

I sail now smiling, a vagabond piece of paper
That got turned by destiny into an indomitable caper
Sailing with an attitude, using my guts to get the direction
I am on an endless adventure taking even my end to perfection.

- Roushni Singh

Invictus- My favorite poem, awe-inspiring, my strength.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.


In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.


Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.


It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.



-William Ernest Henley

Toothpaste

Every morning after I get up, I stare at this toothpaste tube.
I wonder is it really so important that it should be my first muse?
While I sit for a few minutes, half asleep, holding it,
My whole life so far flashes back & the last day sets the mood for this new one.

Each day isn't so b'ful and it is always full of surprises.
But what I pick up from it decides my journey forwad.
I wish I could forget the ones that killed me many times over,
And pick up only the ones that made me smile for silly reasons.

But Nay, mind is hardly spotless and it picks up all the bitches.
I can just pretend to shrug them off and brush my teeth.