Destiny, she’d once thought drove it all and always,
And now says he, we write our own, we only.
She’s giving it a thought, and trying to play the idea,
Whether or not writing it, taking responsibility.

Fate, karma, luck, eternity-
All words denoting a lifetime of choices.
Whether or not independent and unrelated,
Intertwined with destiny somehow, its offshoots, its voices.

The question now, is not necessarily destiny itself,
It is reason, of the thought, and the occurance.
The question also being, whether she is destined to understand the reason itself,
And whether reason in itself is strong enough to reach A CONSEQUENCE.

– Stuti



A thought then crossed her mind,
She wished she could go back.
A wish then marred her heart,
She hoped for that spark.

That little girl in the garden,
She didn’t know what she wanted.
She hopped, and skipped,
Her happiness, her youth, as if she flaunted.

It so happened that one day she suddenly grew,
Surprisingly knowing it all too!!
That garden no longer somehow existed,
Her wishful fancies, now pricked and twisted.

She looked for a reason,
So all the change would make sense.
And despite all the practice of trying to be reasonable,
Found it all pretense.

So more and more she tried to interpret,
This riddle, this situation.
Each time sadly failing miserably,
And yet went on christening better explanations.

And then finally it struck her,
Why she couldn’t so far think straight.
First happy then sad, she was glad to know,
It was her own prejudices that shadowed her reason and HER FATE.