Dear Fellow Women,

I know we are taught to hate each other. We are taught ‘two women can not be bestfriends’.

But this day and every day, I thank god for your existence because who else would provide me unconditional warmth when “Guy Best Friends” just aren’t getting the point. Because who else would notice and comment on the perfect wing that took hours to be perfected. Because who would be as dramatic as I want to be in a situation. Because who else would accompany me to the washroom. Because who else would write texts with me when my crush replies for the first time. Because who would *check* if everything is fine at the *back* and *front* as well.

To all the powerful and beautiful women in my life who I absolutely adore and love.



Dear XII A1,

It will be the second time that I would have to say goodbye to a school, and I think this is also going to be difficult (unlike the perception that I formed on the first day)

Dear XII A1, I remember how we all whined that our new class is placed just next to A2, but I guess that was destined, without them how would we have bonded on common grounds for hatred (except some few blessed souls). I am suddenly empty, I really want to write and capture all the days we spent together. From the day of the entrance exam, to the freshers where we all were timid little juniors in awe of our seniors, (:himanshi wynk wynk). From the literary week were Anhad and Tanvi slayed the podium, to the history project’s presentations. From getting caught by Lovish with phone to my phone playing a weird sing in the middle of a silent class. From being termed as nerds for the whole of the year, to putting up a failed show of NERD NIRVANA at the fete (I still don’t know if it was profit or loss, Ashiv please explain, na? ). From Anav being a sport, pissin off Mishika, to Vansh not coming up on the stage on farewell. From me doing ring-around-the roses with someone , to Vrinda finding cutie’s address. From getting intimidated from each one of you, too loving you from my core. From not wanting to come to school to, not wanting to leave, we all grew up, right?

Promises made in 10th of always staying in touch, were not adhered to, and honestly I do know if we will stay in touch or not, I can’t promise that. The one thing that I can promise is on the day I feel low, a photograph of our happy faces, and all these moments that we spend will make me smile.

With Love.


Dear Anhad,

I think you are one of those true souls. The ones who’s energy I crave. Those souls who’s disappointment and sadness can make you gloomy and their love radiates from their skin.

Anhad, I adore you, your persona, the way you work to achieve what you want, the way you love those around you, the way you laugh and giggle, and how you run behind peon bhaiya to get some mithai meant for teachers. I love how you never break rules but still be my partner in crime. I love how you protect me from some ‘looks’. 😂. We all love to share a laugh when you talk to fake snakes,(I really would love to take names, but I don’t involve myself in controversies.) Though this letter is written by me but I think Sehaj and Tanvi would agree,without you it would not have been the same, we all needed a crazy streak to open up. Thanks for sitting next to me, when teachers became unbearable thanks for drawing ❤️ on my notebooks. Thanks for breaking the ice on the first day of 11th. Tears are welling up and I think I would not be able to write more. But I hope you know how much you mean to me, to all of us.

Happy Birthday.




She peers into me, long and hard,
She screams,’why?’
Answers that I cannot give,
Why does she need my approval to live?
She reaches for her makeup bag,
A practiced routine.
It’s the only way she can live up to the tag.

She hurls her brush at me,
And I shatter to the ground.
Oh, the eyeliner isn’t on fleek,
The skirt doesn’t hug her hips,
Or the lipstick doesn’t sit right on her lips.
She dabs on the shaded concealer,
To hide the true shade of her skin,
I can’t tell her, that being herself is not a sin.

It was very sudden,
‘Enough! I can’t bear this anymore.’,
She cried out, and sobs wracked her frame,
I was the mum witness,
I couldn’t reach out, as the screams came.
She picked up the blade and in a moment of absolute clarity,
We both knew that cosmetics couldn’t fix the scars that words made.

I watched her, powerless, as the first drop fell,
Nobody had paid heed to the warning bells,
I couldn’t stop her as she took her life,
The telltale crimson stained the tiles.

Her silhouette blurred as she fell to the floor,
Her frail heart just couldn’t take it anymore.
In me, she had found solace,
She saw truth in my lies,
I am not alive, but she was beautiful in my eyes.
I just couldn’t tell her so, and it’s my fault that she died…..

Misconceptions and deceit, are all that I am made up of,
There isn’t a grain of truth in me as I invade your thoughts,
The husk will always have a defect,
So how can you peer into me and think that you are imperfect?
I don’t reflect your reality,
I can’t tell you who you are.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start a war….

They just took her away,
If I could, I would have begged her to stay,
I am crucified by the weight of my lies,
But instead of her, I get to see another day.
As the pulse flutters in her neck,
I wish that I was the one who lay dead.
Believe me, I tried to wipe her tears,
To tell her that there was more to her beneath the layers,
I just wish, that before branding herself as imperfect,
She had questioned,
Can a mirror really reflect?



This creation leaves me with the light fragrance of love, the gentle breeze that plays with her hair and the mischief in those eyes, those tipsy eyes. She seems like the lyric of my favourite song, playing in a loop every day of school, making me wistful, blind to the realization of the end of our time together. She stays with me like a warm hug, comforting me when the world seems too dreary to be true.

She was the oblivious to the storms waiting for her, struggling to make herself heard, hurt when her opinions would be undervalued and discarded. But she wore a smile, a facade hiding the pain she went through because Kriti ko Kabhi bura nahi lagta. She hid her insecurities in the garb of narcissism, which she never had. And while it entertained me to no end, I could never summon up the courage to ask how she was feeling.

And today I write to tell her, shake up her soul and make her understand that she is the most beautiful creation, khoobsurat takhleeq, as evocative as the ghazals she likes, as witty as the Shayari she reads. She is a wonder, capable of giving immense love and value to those around her. Even though she is sending memes at the height of evaluative apprehension and chatting away to glory, she has made a niche for herself in my mind and heart. The long line of suitors and her admirers made me laugh when the words of others had pierced my brain. She is my Hamdard ka tonic cinkara, a sweet melody, the sky with hues of pink and purple, the stream of water. She is my calm, she is my strength. And though I am extremely possessive about her, I wish to see her spread her wings and fly into the vast landscape in front of her, explore her potential and discover herself,

It fills me with emptiness when I think about the room of XII-A1 without the stupendous lessons by Ms Kriti Sharma, even the canteen bhaiya is worried about his source of income. It feels me with sadness, overwhelming me as I think about the days when the world was ours, laughter ringing in the school corridors. It makes me happy that I came across someone so genuine that she shines bright in a crowd, bestowing the world with her majestic smile and royalty. Your Highness, I will miss you sorely. You made my existence better, most importantly my jokes, though I have a long way to go.

While my mind fails to conjure more adjectives to explain your capabilities and tears fill my eyes as I wish you a Happy Birthday, I thank you for loving me so that I could love myself.

You are my Jaan. Keep this thought under lock and key.




The Price They Paid…..

How can you judge everyone so fast?
How are you so sure that first impressions last?
You didn’t ever know them, but did you even try?
Or make an effort to find out why they cry?
The girl who you pushed down the stairs,
And laughed about the clothes she wears,
Cries herself to sleep every night
Her insecurities the only things in sight
That boy who you beat up for not giving u his homework,
Is the only son of an ordinary clerk,
He works day and night to make ends meet,
And rarely has two square meals to eat

That pale boy who you laughed at for being parentless,
Once upon a time like his sorrows , even his smiles were limitless.
But his parents passed away in an accident
He was shaken up by this incident
It’s been a while
But try as hard as he may , he could never regain his merry smile
You don’t know the stories behind their sadness or the sadness behind their stories
Neither do yoyknow the reason behind their worries,
But still you gave them this harassment.
Why? What did they do to deserve this treatment?
You mocked them.
You condemned them.
For mistakes that they never even made,
For your darkness, the price was what they paid.
You clipped their wings,
You deprived them of the joy life brings.
They have lost their faith in humanity
After facing this harsh reality
What would you do if you were in their place?
If these were the challenges that you had to face?
Would you have lasted as long as they did?
Or would you already have quit?

These answers will remain a mystery,
You won’t ever have to bear their misery,
Because all the sadistic grins and shoves finally made them crack,
They spend each day anticipating your next attack…….


The Real You

I see you
Tangled up with me
Limb to limb
Toe to toe
Finger to finger.
Your head in a mess
Your eyes, lil twinkles.

I see you,
Dazzled among City lights
Reading Gulzar to me
Singing classics’ while
you make love to me
Forehead kisses.
I see you,
In broad daylight
Your head still a mess
Your eyes, a shade of emptiness now
Your lips, a synonym of lies.

I see you,
Telling your friend,
You don’t believe in love.
And I see me, in a dilemma
And wonder
Which one of this is you,
The real you

Quill, Uncategorized

“Upar di gur gur di annexe di bedhiyaan di moong di daal of di…”

Aa kuch Mantoiyat ladaein…
Aa kuch Mantoiyat sajaein…

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyan o mung di daal of di lalteen.”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of di Pakistan gornament.”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of di Toba Tek Singh gornament. .”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of di laaltein.”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of wahay Guru ji da Khalsa wahay Guru ji di fatah. Jo bolay so nahal sat sri akal!”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana mang di daal of di Toba Tek Singh and Pakistan!”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di bedhiyana di moong di daal of di Pakistan and Hindustan of di durr phitey muhn”

Toba Tek Singh!!! Toba Tek Singh!!! Toba Tek Singh… Hindustan mein Toba Tek Singh… Pakistan mein Toba Tek Singh… Hindustan mein Pakistan… Pakistan mein Hindustan… Hindustan mein Hindustan… Pakistan mein Pakistan… Toba Tek Singh… Hindustan ya Pakistan?

Toba Tek Singh