To the Axe



I am a tree.

I was created to reach for the sky,

with my roots still in the ground.

to stand tall, yet generous.

I am a mother

I create life

I help you breathe.



I am not a last resort.

I am a home,

a harbor

a heart

I was built to save

to liberate

to forgive …but not forget.


I don’t forget. I never forget.. but you do.





photo credit

Baba; this one is for you

If you are a star now,

I will stay late till night to talk with you.

you still sing me lullaby,

like you did when your hands were still warm.

It’s only that, now it take a bit longer for me




It’s a cold winter night.

Yet, I lay here watching you,

hoping you’ll fall,

so that I can make a wish,

for you to not be up there

but here with me,

watching the stars.


On letting go.


My cousin had her *First Break up*. She did not talk to anyone for weeks, before she decided to come and pour her heart out to me. She came to me with a long sighs and awkward silence… I knew what to do! So, I hugged her till she started crying. It was the only way pull her out of the wall she created. She cried her heart out for a while and I let her, because I know nothing makes the heavy-heart lighter than crying.

She told me, she feels like she will never move on.  It was scary. Not because she was hurt but because it was her *first heart-break*. The First everything is just so scary… first day at high school, first crush, first love, first kiss, first break-up… they all are so scary because they leave scars in you that can sometimes last a life time. Seeing her this broken got me to my knees but I gathered myself up. I reached to the dustbin under my study desk, pulled out a broken purse and handed it to her. She looked at me strangely for a while. I cleared my throat and said to her, “remember this purse I got for myself few years back? “

She nodded and softly replied, “you were short of some 200 rupees but you would not let go of it. I gave you the money I saved for something else because you had us at that store for almost an hour…” She smiled a little.

“I loved it so much and I was so worried someone else would take it”

“today morning, it broke so I threw it away. I really though it was unbreakable”. She seemed really confused so I sat next to her and said, “Look,  this was my favorite purse but it broke anyways. I was upset because I never thought it would ever be damaged! but that’s how world works right? nothing lasts forever, not this purse, not your relationship and not your pain.” she did not speak. I held her hand and told her, “Next time you ever feel hurt by something or someone leaving, think of this purse and remind yourself that nothings lasts forever and it’s not your fault. The only wise thing to do would be to let go of it and grow out of it…”  she started crying again so I stopped. we did not talk much after that. I asked her to get ready and I took her out for coffee.


It’s been some 2 and a half month since that incident and she is all okay now. Her heart has healed. I look at her eyes and the emptiness is gone, I can tell that she has moved on…

… and I guess after all these years, I did too.

My lover smells like armpit.

so I’ve a weird habit of assigning smells to almost everyone.

my grandma smelled like winter.
not that she was mean and cold
but when i think of her,
I remember the way she used to hold
her coffee mug on the cold winter days
its been a while and the memory’s all blur
but winter will forever smell like her.

my childhood best friend was a Muslim
“the kindest” a soul ever could be
I remember on every second page her textbook
was a cleanly drawn new moon
that looked like letter “C”
she was everything of a best friend, a girl would ever need
she forever in my head, will smell as beautiful as her “id”

it was a mid summer day and the roads seemed new
there was a protest of some kind,
no vehicle in view,
till I answered my door bell…
I was cover with a sweaty arm around my neck
my lover on my doorsteps, he looked like a wreck
he walked for few hours just so we could meet
my lover will forever smell like sweaty yet loving arm pit.


I fell in love with your hands with the fist hello
the way they reached out to mine
strong yet gentle, your hands as they held mine,
I feel in love with your feet when they accompanied my toes.. step by step, side by side, along the dusty gravel roads and when I tripped on the empty spaces of the four chambers and a beating drum inside my chest, I was feeling blue..
your arms carried me home and I fell in love with it too
your legs never complained no matter how many times they had to run around to reach me
and your face never frowned, you’d smile and you’d teach me
and your spines gave me all the warmth it could… Every way possible, it would!

As I was waiting so desperately for a call that said you are fine.. I got a message that read, you are back from the war with more than just scars…
my pillow
my tissue,
my swing.. your arms..they are important but not as much as your beating heart
with no limbs and barely any face.
Darling, I love you still as much.

self portrait | Introduction


So this how I(and my dog hayley) almost look like.. My name is Sumishi… you can call me SAM. My actual age is 21 but my mental age is 18. Not that I act like a 18 y/o teenager but every time someone asks my age.. I say Eighteee… Twenty-one (involuntarily). I love reading books. I can’t function without tea/coffee. I talk less. Poetry. Poetry. Poetry….

weird fact about me? I have a habit of reading books from the last page and only then start from the beginning. Unlike others, Coffee makes me so very sleepy.

ermm.. what else… yeah, Camera hates me. I can’t smile at the camera. I am the most unphotogenic person I have ever seen.. I look much better in person :3

and that’s basically all I can think of about myself at the moment.