The festival of lamps has come
Children rejoice at its sight
Elders feel happy
In being able to light the lamps
Wherever I look, I see lights only
But there is no light within me
I wonder
Whether it is the case with others also.
What is the use of having light
When it canʼt kindle the heart
Religionists speak of that eternal light
Which is immersed in darkness
Let that be our effort
To kindle it in our heart.


Concrete Jungle

In a brisk morning
when smokes were hurled
By the towering chimney
I stood at wonder
Looking at the formation
Of carbon dioxide
There were no trees nearby
To consume them
To purify the living breath
And refresh the world
In the hot summer season
When I was walking through
The empty streets
My eyes searched for
Some protection
Given by Nature
Alas , I saw around me
Only jungle of concrete
there was no cool refreshing air
Coming from the trees
All these opened my eyes
I became aware of natureʼs beauty
Still I was not able to resist
That snake-charm of concrete


The Land of Nothing

What is present at this land?
Well, it is nothing but sand.
It is the land of nothing,
Where you don’t find anything.
No flowers, no trees, no one.
The land only has a sun.

Some brave ones may try,
Not letting this place dry.
But never succeed

In their good deed

The land of nothing is so hot,
You could fry yourself in a pot!
In this land, heat shall remain,
No green shall retain.
No flowers, no trees, no one.
At the land of nothing.

Aditi Deepak
21st April 2020


Never Did It Cross My Mind

Alone I sat,
Thinking…  just that.
Never did it cross my mind,
disaster I was about to find.
For hitherto things were nice,
And I knew not there was a price
What we humans have done,
Is not a load of fun.
Months and months of monotony,
Oh, the irony.
Being trapped in my own home,
I went back to my thinking dome.
Will things change?
Or shall things be as strange?
Never did it cross my mind,
A pandemic I was about to find.

Aditi Deepak
7th January 2021


And I, A Lone Orchid

A garden full of roses,
and I, a lone orchid.
A thousand sheets of blank paper,
and the broken nib of a pen.
The glistening dawn that can never become the pensive dusk,
and night that can never become day.
Scribbles hailed as calligraphy,
not a word follows the call of destiny.
I halt for a moment,
and there walks another in my stead.
The tranquil moon that can never become the radiant sun.
The numbing winter that can never become the carefree summer.
A thousand days of unsaid words,
and the hushed chimes of the wind.
A garden full of roses,
and I, a lone orchid.

Aditi Deepak


A Splash of Ink

The clock has begun ticking again,
a splash of ink on paper that had been plain.
I ran along with the sudden hustle and bustle,
shoving aside my mind in a tussle.
To break free from a world where,
the shadow of danger lingered around every familiar face there.

The pleasure of allowing a pen run free on paper.

Halt once again, to watch the flower wilt,
and there fear stood, barricaded by the wall that had been built.
It is time to bid our farewells to monotony :-
with a reflection as stoic as a bleak expression,
lost in the bitter caress of expectation.

The clock has begun ticking again,
a splash of ink on paper that had been plain.

Will I be sitting on the same chair,
past the curve in the path there,
praising the humanity that tipped the ink over?

Aditi Deepak
10th July 2022



A lucid, surreal world,
the manifestation of our endless thoughts,
the depths of our minds unfurled,
our hopes and fears evinced.
Where reality merges with imagination,
where tranquillity and chaos walk hand in hand
In the midst of satinlike clouds and alluring stars,
and the hushed chimes of forgotten whims.
To walk along a hustling street
of faces unbeknownst to us,
or to gaze at the vast, pensive sky
at the plethora of wishes unfulfilled.
It is a lucid, surreal world,
where tranquillity and chaos walk hand in hand.
But don’t let the mirage shatter,
for everything has an end to it
and a deep, endless void awaits.

Aditi Deepak
2nd April 2023



I am a novice in vices
Even then I am a votary of it
I can’t understand these bloody men
Who sheds so many tears on morality
They are ignorant fools
Who don’t know what nature is
Without vice virtue cant exist
They are the reverse side of the same coin

If there is no vice in this world
It would be a boredom to live here
It is the follies and frivolities of others
Which make us happy in this world
Those who have no eyes to see this
Have no right to condemn others.



In this land of Bharata
God is said to be all-pervading
But I see only one thing pervading
That is nothing but hypocrisy
Leaders from all walks of life
Preach sermons from the mountaintop
They are not preceptors of what they preach
They see everywhere corruption, dishonesty and infidelity
And drop crocodile tears on the poor state
They expect everybody to be honest
While they are not honest to themselves
This kind of men can flourish
Only in this sacred land of ours.



How can I describe my sumptuous joy
In getting a job in a limited concern
No more I am a Micawber, in its true sense
Thanks to the providence of god
Whenever I look I see success only
It gives me much joy to feel so
Now I am a recipient of recognition
Although it is a belated one
It always reminds of the truth
That man is only an instrument in the hands of god
There may be people to jeer at me
But I don’t care a hoot for them
Micawber-person who waits for
Something good to turn up.