Deepika Singh – Two Poems

Unfinished Meeting 

It was Wednesday,

just another day for the whole world,

but for me, it was the moment my heart had yearned for.

For the very first time,

I was going to meet him.

The first glance when I saw him,

my heart confessed-

“Stay… he’s the one.”

As we travelled into the warm light of the day,

Emerald tea gardens glistened with vibrant hues.

Nature wrapped us gently in its arms,

azure blue sky welcoming our arrival,

It felt like a divine blessing meant solely for us.

And even the humble roads

seemed to glow—

I felt like someone gently

touched the core of my heart

when I sat beside you.

A shiver rushed through my body.

Your aura enveloped me

like a soothing presence

which I had been starving for all my life.

The music created its own magic,

but your voice was the melody-

the rhythm of waves

the only sound I heard.

In the depth of your eyes,

an untouched story to be told,

where I longed to lose myself-

a world where I wished

I could stay for hours,

unseen, unhurried.

When you smiled— 

that innocent, baby-like smile

that lit up your whole face-

It melted the hardest part of me to surrender.

And when you spoke of your heart-

your past, your softness, your wounds-

that day I met a man

far more beautiful than he knows:

kind, humble, breathtakingly human.

In that tender silence,

I wished to hold you tight,

And never let you go.

To wrap you in my arms,

To caress your hair,

To settle down your restless soul.

When our journey came to an end

And you dropped me home,

I asked for a hug.

I wished to hold you tight and never let you go.

My heart sank when you left me.

I long to meet you again,

to see you again,

to belong to you—

only you.

And yet a fragile question trembles on my lips:

Will it be possible in this birth?

Will it be possible in this birth

for our souls to meet again—

not as strangers passing,

but as two hearts choosing each other?

The Silent Injustice to Daughters

We are honoured to be born in India’s womb,

whose roots teach us-

to support our elders 

and not to abandon them to face the fading years alone.

We boast that our parents are never deserted,

Yet behind the veil of this pride

lies the bitter truth too cruel to deny.

The mindset engraved in customs says that devotion and duty

are a son’s privilege,

and for daughters,

it’s meant to be unseen for their parents .

When the daughter breathes in nuptial solitude,

Our society gives its verdict:

To hire hands for her parent’s twilight years 

or dwell near the daughter’s husband’s gate-

as if devotion could be traded

and duty could be shared by unfamiliar faces.

Tell me, dear society —

if a son mirrored the same act,

Would you still smile with such acceptance?

Yet behind the sorrow-soaked, quiet doors,

many parents hide their 

whispering wounds,

because their little world is 

blessed  only with a lone fame.

Irony is-

In the land where we worship our mother, 

And offer deep devotion to our father,

The ones blessed only with girls –

must prepare for deserted loneliness.

Enough is enough now to detach our age old ruthless customs,

Let us challenge and rewrite what has been blindly followed-

Open your eyes and see the hypocrisy what we are sheltering —

for love is beyond gender.

A daughter’s wedded home- 

Must open the doors for the ones who hold her tiny fingers. 

Let her husband’s nest welcome her guardian angel too-

A place where gratitude not gender decides who is to receive warmly.

No parent deserves solitary aging –

Punished for bringing a daughter into the world.