Mishthi Sharma


Published Work

Even my father ditched me

Through the red veil, I see people
covered in glitter and show
their dazzling attires
blue, green , red, yellow
The priest striking my eardrums
with numerous hymns in a row

Towering above me, he stand
holding a jasmine garland
it’s powerful aroma
overflows my nose
around my neck, he slips
the garland of unknown vows
The fragrance, the sound, the light
fades and I turn white
I see the apology
in my father’s eye
I cling to him
If I leave, I will die
But nobody cares
they smile and smile
their hyena died hands
pushing me away, miles
their bangles arguing
with mine
their deafening laughter
casting over my whine
No, I cannot
I cannot leave my shrine
to be the goddess of a temple
which will never be mine.

Papa you promised me
to never leave me alone
but here I stand
in the world unknown
these are not the walls
which resounded my lullaby
this is...

Mine is a small world

Some worlds are large
having skies and oceans
indefinite horizons
hopeless expectations
sky offering the limit
choking you on people
and never letting you breath

Some worlds are small
Enclosed in a skull
with furnished vacuums
a point universe 
never flooding your eyes
never leaving you alone
no turbulent huge ocean
a safe little harbour

Why I'm not a strong woman

They advise me to be a strong woman;
but I don’t wanna be.
I could make a difference softly;
why should I be manly?
They advise me to be rude with the rude;
but I don’t wanna be.
I could make them gentle with love;
love is what defines me.
They advise me to be a fierce warrior;
but I don’t wanna be.
I could end the wars with peace;
let me remain she.
They advise me to be aggressive;
but I don’t wanna be.
I just want a life with dignity;
to set my soul free.
They advise me to be apathetic;
but I don’t wanna be.
I could make sympathy;
change the pain into glee.

Bless them all

I sat on the porch swing one day
Thanking God for everything bright and gay
A crisp breeze brushed my cheeks
Cruising her way through my hair
Excited strands ran after her
To make her stay, to hold her there
But euphoria can’t be bound they say
So she gamboled away
God Bless the little soul of hers
She made everything so bright and gay
Then the old sun with the all-knowing smile
Sprinkled some of his brilliant shine;
On the little droplets
Sitting on the green of the grape vine.
But the drops not absorbing the light;
Reflected their tiny rainbows for me to play.
God bless their selfless hearts
They made everything so bright and gay
The cradling swing played a happy tune.
With its creaking joint it sings.
The quarrelling sparrows turned dancers
To touch every note with their wings
God Bless these lively birds I say
They made everything so bright and gay ...


The darkness was filled with red. I was standing there, staring at the blank spaces of my life. She was also there, but lost. A cold drop of salty water trailed down her cheek and I shivered in horror and discomfort.

“Say it! Don’t be afraid dear.” I said. My words terribly shaking as I managed to put them down in a sentence. She sobbed once, twice, thrice. Every teardrop of hers was digging the hole in my chest wider and deeper. But she was just staring at nothingness. Her silence was stabbing me.

“You did this?” I shouted, to bring her back from her darkness to the darkness filled with red.  She swallowed the lump in her throat.


“You did this or not?”

She lowered her head in a yes but was never able to raise it again. 

The darkness was filled with red, gushing out of the dead body.I grabbed her sweating hand and paced out of...


Here comes a cry;
the environment dance in whorls with joy.
But standing away a few yards;
my grandma’s question mark, ‘Is it a girl or a boy?’
The nurse appears with a frown;
my heart swings up and down.
From everybody’s lips there slips a sigh;
shadowing the girl’s beautiful cry.
My eyes searching for a happy case
comes to a sudden halt.
I notice my father’s face
and get struck by a lightning bolt.
Lips bend in a downward arch;
his pallor haggard with features dark.
He looks at her with burning eyes;
the eyes which once I considered wise.
The beads of rosemary click aloud;
pronouncing the hatred behind the serene shroud.
I am afraid the mask will soon be shed;
exposing the old man’s face of lead.
I wish you luck my little sister;
for the fight with the evil inside each head.
But I am sorry I can't help...

A Mirror's View

Standing there, facing me, was the worst part of my master’s daily ritual. But as always he was there surveying himself from top to bottom, socked in self-abhorrence.

I peered into his eyes to see what he sees.

Saggy skin hanging over every facial curve; half-closed haggard peepers trying to fall inside the skull  as soon as the lid shuts; tanned skin with a few cuts here and there; parched lips having no color to allude the presence of life and a wrinkly endless forehead completed his old pallor. His despicably large and rough hands maneuvering a pretty little tie pronounced a vehement contrast. His rounded shoulders, indolent head and tenuous frame concluded him as a loathsome pantaloon.

I was absorbed in my work of mirroring master’s view when mistress entered the room with genuine panache. She beheld him in admiration which made me shift my gaze to those content eyes of hers.

In her eyes I saw a different...