Author Archives: Aparna Pathak


The fragrance which you left
here in my room
like a flower of Freesia
has a color
of fondness
and a voice
of affection.
This fragrance walks with me
everywhere with great panache ,
tossing itself on my bed ;
And with its every turn
its drenching me
into the realization
of your presence,
covering me into a blanket
of your omnipresent

© Aparna Pathak/ All Rights Reserved

Lateral inversion

Sipping coffee from porcelain mug
Twiddling King between fingers
Aristocratically sitting as high as Mount Everest
Making moves on black and white patches of clouds
On widely spread troposphere;
Arrogantly he posed as if it was mere a child’s play

Thundering sound of clouds
Shook me up;
Suddenly image got
Unbelievably transposed;
Reversal of impression
Occurred in mind
His ‘right’ was not right to me anymore
With this lateral inversion

Gigantic image turned small
Heart-melting smile looked spirit less;
Dominating persona
Bejeweled with perfect etiquettes
Was appearing pretentious
And his moves on board seemed
Conspiring a plot against me

When my eyes got fix on him;
Frustration was clearly visible
In his flared nose, wrinkled chin
And pouted lips, stretched face muscles
Depicting serious contemplation
He was losing grip on game on board
He had already lost it in mind
I knew; he won’t stay more
In front of disrespectful mirror
Hence for the sustenance of narcissism
He moved on
Aparna Pathak/ All Rights Reserved

Ecstatic Connection

An unidentified force
pulling my half soul
like magnet.
Bearing irresistible attraction
struggling to unite
with other half
wandering in infinity
searching soul’s satisfaction.
There is surely an extension of me
beyond myself
that disapprove
every social boundary
like a rebel
to fulfill the emptiness.
Baptized to love and
to suffer willingly
for ecstatic connection
this addiction
increasing daily
enjoying the separation
taking it as purgatorial rites
living in state of nothingness
in an insular world
existing in minds
in hope of having universe in it .
© Aparna Pathak/ All Rights Reserved

I Am Different

World is full of “I am different” creatures,
even though we all have more or less same features.
Everyone claims to be “different” from others,
although all are born obviously from mothers.
It’s better now to remain unexceptional,
to be simple and common is very rational.
As being different is now so common,
and to be common is now so uncommon.
You will find these “different” on every street,
but these commoners now prefer to stay indiscreet.
© Aparna Pathak/ All Rights Reserved

Second Innings

was of an amateur
with enthusiasm
on field
trying to run
as much as possible.

Energy channelized;
Sixes and fours
at every stage;
Applauses and patting
making days.

Few misses
more understanding.

With time
everything slowed down.
Clapping hands got tired.
Yet eyes were curious
to see the sustenance.

The only desire was
to play the final game
till the end
and win it too.

But standing firm
with experienced eyes
was all that required.

Second innings
are so important.

It’s here
one makes up
for the past losses
in lesser time
staying focused
on field of life,
aiming totally on goal,
i.e the victory.
© Aparna Pathak/ All Rights Reserved.


Sweat drops were sopping clothes,

stress increasing in caves of mind,

with fluctuating confidence

and alertness invoked,

socks pulled for final ‘sprint’.


Feet firm on starting blocks,

torso slightly leaned,

all parts aligned

geared up to accelerate,

fully determined.


Eyes were all set on goal,

and ears on starter’s gun,

awareness to world got shut,

with the shot of fire

for country I began to run.


Running machine without ail,

wholly focused on track,

limbs ready for best show,

only gold to possess;

Proudly around neck.



At maximum velocity,

head in line with spine,

reflexes were vigilant

when torso with zeal,

embraced the finishing line.


© aparna

Mental Bullying

I was born with an alive brain.
But my efforts to enlighten it,
with wisdom, went all in vain.
Now its lying in comatoseness,
since many years, like a rusted iron,
taking the last few left heavy breaths,
like “death rattles”, before the final end.
It has also seen years of imprisonment,
suppressed under chauvinism,
chained in social norms and mental bullying
of customs and orthodox norms,
depriving it from thinking and opine.
Fewer times, out of the blue,
it was asked to speak up,
like mimicking parrots,
aligning thoughts with the powers,
where cerebrating mind was never required.
Just a silent consent was all needed,
on every rude tough stare,

 lips were fearfully sealed,
it thus became a non-functioning pulp,
locked behind concealed bars,
tortured to die , suffering from
suffocating darkness, and lots of scars.

© aparna