Happy Birthday!!


~ Sahil Lakhmani

Unlike her usual days, Meera woke up early. She wanted to celebrate this day…. as him and for him. She doesn’t want to live this day for her but for him.

Each day Meera woke up by his favorite songs as her alarm tone, so that each morning could remind her the bond of lovely words between them. The gulf of the silence was always filled with the echo of songs between them. Then she made his favourite breakfast, feeling each moment of their togetherness. How he used to cry fake while chopping veggies and she got scared… how she puts smiley ketchup over bread making him smile and so much more.

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Be A Gentleman!!

You’re drunk.

It’s a birthday party and everybody’s dancing. You have drunk off your limits and now you’re searching for a room to relax a bit.

You finally find a room and the door’s already open.

But you see there’s a girl in there. She’s holding her forehead with both her hands like she has committed a dark sin.

Maybe she drank, too.

‘Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit in here? Actually, there’s too much noise in the hall.’


You sit beside her on the same bed and venture what’s wrong with her.

‘I’m drunk and it’s my first time,’ she says, mulls over something, and continues, ‘I shouldn’t have had so much.’

And, as she says that, the light goes off.

The power supply’s cut.

‘Oh, my.’ She mumbles inside her trembling lips, picks herself up, and sits afar from where she was sitting earlier.

‘My cell phone’s in the hall,’ she says, again within herself.

She’s not afraid of darkness. She is afraid of a man in darkness.

You sense the gravity of the situation and leave the room, straight away. And a few minutes later, you return with a flashlight on.

‘May I now come in, madam?’ You say in a sarcastic tone.

‘Haha, how sweet. Come on in.’ She says to you, with a small, warm smile.

‘Not all men are same.’ She says, this time to her inner-self.

Build a character in such a way that even in a dark room, a girl feels safe with you.

~ Sahil Lakhmani

The Lecherous Crime…

Insidious gaze

Circumspect ears

Wandering dark meadows

He stops and stares

Those carnal looks lustful

Luring her senses away

That booby trap profound

And she becomes his prey

Its love that brings her down

Love in his lusty eyes

Thwarted by his plans- malafide

Far and wise she flies

Swiftly he chases her

Startled, she turns around

Shot after shot, he fires

And she is brought to ground

Looking into his eyes

Profusely bleeding

“Grant me life, O’ Master!”

She starts pleading

Her broken wings

And shattered dreams

Breaks his heart

And guilt-traps him

“What have I done, O’ life!

A grave mistake

A heinous crime”

He sings his melancholy rhyme

After all the treachery

And all the lechery

Love is all that remains

He’ll love her forever

Until they die. 

Just one fact

She’ll never fly. 

~ Sahil Lakhmani


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Crimson cheddars instil up the sky,

Giving out a snoozing peace for mind

Witty clouds line up for a dye

But are never deemed one of a kind!

Ohh! These misty mornings!

They are the best for all over the rest.

Giving hard encore for a doozy mind, to live up a spirited life!

Isn’t our life the same?

Or is it that we lack a real virtuality.

Engrossed everyday in the same name and moronic blames,

To forget the Eden’s garden where we came!

Artificial vernacular diaries are the dearest to us,

Knowing unknowingly aren’t we departing our heavenly Earth!

Think from your heart, not the brain, As,

God only help those who are fussy towards nature and not the antonym ones.

~ Sahil Lakhmani


“You can never stop time”, said his mum.

Next day none of the clocks in the home had batteries. The kid played well.

Years later, the girl he loved received a gift, she unwrapped the box, there was a small note with silently ticking watch. The note read, “If you say yes, forever begins now.” The 18-year old guy played well this time as well.

“Forever?”, she asked.

“Yeah, forever”, he replied.

“You lied to me, you left”, said the old lady as they closed his coffin.

A tear rolled off her cheek! “And he played well this time as well”, she said.

This was the phase, time couldn’t be stopped. His mum was right.

~ Sahil Lakhmani

The Blue Crisp Shirt…

I was standing outside the changing room, holding a shirt, a few t-shirts one denim. It was about an hour since we were looking for clothes for my husband. Our taste in clothes doesn’t go well. He keeps looking for option and I keep standing holding choices for him. When I was a little girl I used to think I will marry someone like my father, who will happily wear clothes I choose for him, it seems now like a crazy fantasy. The young woman in me now knows it very well. Keeping all of it aside I chose a sky blue crisp shirt for him hoping he would like it. Perhaps today he will approve my choice as a wife.

Murmuring voice coming from inside.

“Nothing looks nice Shalu,” my husband, trying the fourth t-shirt and was about to reject it. The door keeps opening and closing but nothing allures him. I don’t understand what speciality he was looking for it was just a t-shirt. I was standing with the blue crisp shirt I chose for him hoping this one he would like yet I knew he could reject but that day I was kind of hopeful.

I yelled, “You come out to show it to me then only I can help. You keep rejecting all by yourself.”

Suddenly one of the doors opened. I stretched my hand towards him gave him the blue crisp shirt while looking for my phone which was ringing loud and lost in my bag.

“It will look great on you,” I said while adjusting other t-shirts in my hand. I asked again, “Could you please try this?”

Nothing he said, I turned around in dismay leaving my phone which was lost in my bag and keep ringing loud. The tip of his finger touched my skin shooting a rush inside my body sailing through my blood stuck in my head. It was not him, my husband. It was someone else, it was… Avinash!

Looking with a straight face gazing deep into my eyes, not a word he uttered.

Kept looking at me holding that blue shirt close to his chest wrapped his left hand around it, caressing the fabric of the shirt and quickly his bewildered face grew calm, his eyes became soft for a while like the little boy whom I had known; who overlooked every mistake I made and used to wear a calm composure when held his hands. It was a long time back still I could see that seventeen-year boy.

He has the same stillness my presence brought him years back. After such a long time when everything changed yet, he looked at me like nothing ever did. Behind his sombre face, I could see the hint of a childlike smile. His mouth chose no word instead his eyes asked and mine refused to say a word.

He took that blue shirt with him in the trail room. He shut the door and I was left behind. His unsaid word spoke loud; loud enough to scream in my ears the song of lost memories. Everything came back rolling in mind like a movie.

I, standing alone in front of a big mirror staring at my face changing colours, mind thinking aloud, a sudden rush in my breath, a cold blow of wind numbing my fingers and toes.

All the dreams of young love enfolded again. Old days and the fragrance of our love. Those wonderful rosy days when love was everything and our hearts were light as feathers when a young girl and boy of seventeen destined themselves as lovers, innocent Lovers.

That blue crisp shirt, he caressing his hands was a piece from our memory land. He took with him and left his unsaid words for me.

I felt moved and held, joyed and cursed. I was in a place with him now, where I was not, for a long long time, where I wanted to be and not to be.

My husband came out looking for more t-shirts I was holding I handed him all.

The rush in my eyes was for the blue shirt I had chosen was the only thing I wanted to see. I sat on a white cushioned stool wrapping all of me reminiscing the seventeen years of me and him. Avinash still accepts my choice as he did 17 years back.

The door opened, there he was, wearing the blue crisp shirt, he gazed into my eyes; no words fooled around; just his eyes pleading for my approval “Do I look good in your choice? The way you craved me to be? Be truthful, tell me what you have in your heart and mind?” His eyes looked desperate for my answer he did not want to be lost again he wanted to stay.

I looked at him as long as I could, as long as I could stop my heart to jump out on the floor and cry looking at him. I slowly nodded my head up and down. A drop of tear resting in his left eye fell slowly caressing his cheeks my hands wanted to do the same. My heart crumbled a thousand folds in that one moment. I kept looking at him like a lifeless statue- less of life left; none of the words to utter just a helpless stare. His feet moved towards the white cushion where I was now standing, each step he took my heart crumbled…more…a bit more leaving me short of breaths. I clenched my fist so hard that my nails were piercing my palms.

He did not stop moving closer and closer till his feet could touch my blue dupatta touched his black leather shoes. It was him, so close to me after so long. His eyes gazing my face, my lips trembling to tell him you just look as I dreamed once when we were seventeen. When I told you I will choose clothes for and you have to wear them as I will be your wife.

But I couldn’t tell him any of this.

Several unsaid things broken promises and dented heart was between us.

I wanted to embrace the moment, he wanted to cry. We wanted to stop everything around and run holding hand as we used to like old times but nothing could he do nor I except looking at me like a sweet child who wished for the “beautiful moon” in nights and cried to sleep thinking that he could not have it. I could see his pain the anger and all the unsaid thing I left behind wrapped in a promise that we won’t exchange a word never in life. He swore putting his hands on my head and eyes on my lips who said those cold words to a 17-year-old little boy. A seventeen-year-old girl who stabbed his heart and torn in pieces and my little boy still kept it.

In five steps he walked towards me, all things rolled in my mind and when he crossed me to go to the cash counter I felt his pain burdening my soul-crushing into pieces that could never join again.

He kept his promise and I kept holding the silence between us. I was still his heartless beautiful moon who has a gloomy shine, he was still my little boy who loved the moon and accepted all the moon said while leaving the sky.

He left again and I left him to do so. Some stories never change, time brings you in the same place perhaps this time something will change but not.

My story remained the same as it was 17 years back- of a beautiful heartless Moon, a seventeen-year little boy and blue crisp shirt.

~ Sahil Lakhmani


Every time I look at you,

The world turns upside down.

Maybe those finery words blemishes me into your loving heart,

Or maybe it’s the act of vision I lack…

Or maybe the lust for the life allures me to you.

How far we will go,don’t know… ..

Maybe some miles away or overthrow thousands of milestones…

But after all at the heaven’s sake,

At the dusk and at the dawn,

At the river or at the dale,

While looking at the starry night

Or quietly cuddling at the corner in the pitched up darkness,

I know our shadows won’t forget the blaze of each other’s wind,

Or maybe would just get lost in those stormy strings… .

Do you feel this way?

Or maybe you just don’t want to feel this complete utterance I make in your way.

Is this how the karma works?

Or it’s just a camouflage you cover?

Just once listen to my pleading heart,

Maybe you’ll get to know the story behind it.

~ Sahil Lakhmani

Who are you?

~Marta Vidiari

Who are you when you sleep? .. ⠀
There are two lives, for you and for me, ⠀
In one you think a lot, ⠀
and in another thoughts play with you. ⠀ ⠀

This is the world where you close your eyes, ⠀
and you open completely different doors with them … ⠀
you just go inside yourself, ⠀
You open another self … ⠀
And while you sleep, you’re happy there, you can afford it! ⠀
When you wake up, you see the reflection of another self … ⠀
Who are you when you’re not sleeping? … ⠀

Falling for you, Once Again

~ Sahil Lakhmani

He never gave up on her.

She never gave up on him.

It’d be better if it was a story of two people instead of three.

He gathered courage, they met finally. He carried a ring, and she, her wedding card.

Turmeric on her hands, and a slit on his wrist. Every morning he promised himself to let her go. Every night it was his pen, paper and her, again.

Finally he rested his pen, took one last look at her wedding photo and jumped out of the window. “Falling for you, once again.”, the suicide note read.

I’m not a sentiment

~Neha Lekhak

I’m not anger.
I’m not fear.
I’m not cheeriness.
I’m not dismal.
I’m not anxiety.
I’m not empathic pain.
I’m not disgust.
I’m not arousal.
I’m not exhilaration
for the things felt on the spur of the moment.
I’m not “yelling at someone”.
I’m not “woah” ’cause you are just fascinated
by something I said.
I’m things other than feelings.
And emotions like these inside out.
I’m the mind of a child
whose memories are depicted by a glass orb
where my nature just spread.
So tell me, if you’d picturize me
by these aforesaid sentiments
How many colors of sentiments would you remember
by the images I sketch?