White I must tell you, Now I write at 2 AM. I don't shake at night, I don't erase my poem. My hair are short And my eyes are still brown. Nobody ever looked at them They only checked if I had a Crown. I learned so much last year And I'm working on my book. I collect everything in my diary, Every piece of mine that you took. You don't read them anymore, The poetries I still write for you. So listen, I must tell you, I'm not the girl you once knew. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

I won't touch flowers today Because apparently they wither. I won't go near anyone, I won't touch that peacock feather. I won't walk around the garden, I won't play in water. And just staying still will hurt, Even that joyful laughter. The space that I needed Any other day... It is as if I've been abandoned, I didn't want it this way. And I hate how I said "I won't" Not that "I can't" because It wasn't taught, but slowly poisoned And it's stuck in my heart. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White First rain, warm smell, bringing joy to my heart. Calming the burning Sun, oh! what a great start! Flowers bloom, Leaves bath, It's green wherever I look. Lightening brightens the sky and thunders left us shook. I would enjoy the rain walk, but I prefer my cozy bed. I still walked around despite many things that I said! ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White I travel back to the 80s And I see a little boy. He is working in a field, There isn't any toy. I see a bright figure, Small but shining tall. I see someone next to him, then it makes sense and all. I realise it's his uncle Normalising many things for him, Like shouting at his wife And holding her at whim. They don't have a daughter So I guess he didn't learn, How to love a woman And how to blow on her burn. Later, at worst, he adds salt, Thinking it would be better. But this is not a recipe So his thoughts don't matter. He forgot to love And he will never understand. He will always feel inferior Whenever a woman takes a stand. And though he'll be great, He will not be satisfied. He will hurt many... His actions, cruel, yet glorified. And yet he will be called A Man. The false definitions will not change. She'll always be stepped over, They will always call her strange. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White We have similar hobbies So I thought you'd understand. If I can't write anymore, Tell me what can I do and... Will I still dream About skies and the sea? Will I work on myself And the person I want to be? Will I be a happy kid Like I pretend I am now? Will I manage my success If I do succeed somehow? Will I be patient and poised To talk to people without fear? If I ever need someone, Will they still be near? The world I didn't care about When I had my pen and diary, What happens when I am not me? Do I have to worry? ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White ' मी ' मिळवले किती? भाव सारे मांडले मी माझ्या कवितेमधूनी सांग तुला शब्द वाचून अर्थ उमगले किती? प्राण माझे ओतले मी प्रत्येक ओळीतूनी सांग तुला श्वास माझे यमकात दिसले किती? क्षणात विसरलास तू शब्द न् शब्द माझा सांग आता मला, बघ प्रेम हे उरले किती? तुझ्या आठवणींतून कधी घेतली न मी रजा तुझ्या नजरेत आले किती? निसटले किती? दुःख या कवितेतले पुन्हा मी स्मरणार नाही पण यातही दुःख आहे हे तुला कळले किती? प्रत्येक कवितेत तू, हे समजले मला ही पण तुला जपताना सांग प्रेम मी मिळवले किती? ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar