Poetry: Sonali Sharma

Sonali Sharma
On The Ghats of Ganges

Floodlight inside the temples hugely embraced the darkness,
To put it out as more figures walked in to worship fervent faith,
Justifying their deeds to Gods and Goddesses in holy heaven,
After soaking their bad karma in the mobile dips of Ganges,
Coming out after a while to clasp their clothes lying on the Ghats,
Sticking to the steps when impacted from upside by hot breeze.

The Ghats be all aroma of crisp vegetables, achaar, rotis,
On banana leaves, worshipped on Thursdays their tree of Vishnu,
The mighty preserver of the world, giving humans in bountiful liberality,
Every Hindu mother would select yellow as the dress to please.
The pujaris’ collective common in dress ethics walked on the Ghats,
Advising women to send their children to Gurukuls old and wise,
An ideology old in cult followed to teach Sanskrit, Maths, Science,
Opening noble minds to learn self-defense and mettle in forests,
Motherhood blossoming with pride.

A new world would settle too on the Ghats in different clothing,
Unaware of the roots, bragging aloud the city life as best,
Modern culture and schools, the skyscrapers high versatile we live in,
For a break we walked on the Ghats, pretending to be ritualistic,
Silver plates and spoons, on tables in hotels alongside galis congested,
Reading the menu, lavish seasoning salad and prawn with rice demanded,
Paid a good principal for diet, three days and two nights.

Like nothing on earth, boundary of the two worlds divided neatly,
A rural, a high-rise, stoning the Ganges with marked dissimilarities,
But followed same action of long holding iron chains for life-saving,
All tired figures rested for a while on the Ghats of Ganges.

Alive Without Me

What will you think, if I say this?
I roam alone for acres on days;
Of course with a reason great;
My heart believes so, not frail;
That wonders are a many love;
Unbelievably developed;
Against time and people;
Most importantly reserved;
For spiritual good of humanity;
A development of this kind;
I speak to myself everyday;
I see in uplifting the poor;
For which I make simple technologies;
Inspiration is their village belongings;
A tank, a polyhouse, a fruit orchard,
Has now been upgraded;
Let’s not forget the watermill;
Traditional flour grinding source;
For sustainable livelihoods now;
Make empty stomachs full with life;
I reach over and over to communicate;
Listen to their concern standing;
Come back at night in my nature hut;
To make mind maps of growth at large;
Draw them on paper to the helpers;
Who will keep the process of change;
In the lands alive, one day without me.

The Recharged Stream

One black crow and immigrant yellow birds in a pair,
Self-positioned on different hard embedded rocks disconnected,
By a recharged stream that made a sound of relief,
Birth from an opening near water plants necessitates rain showers,
To dampen morose weather killing agricultural fields on the left.

On four stands supported a house shaped framework,
Inside of which was a statue of Shiva in blue up to shoulders,
A spider hung before the glass etched to the house looking down,
Into the uninterrupted stream filled all along with algae, leaves, mud
Even below the bridge must arrived protists, cyanobacteria with current.

Sword leaves of cattails drinking moisture from the soil hiding,
The backdrop of houses situated in a line which elevated the sight,
Of the snow-covered mountains joining forces with the white skies,
Under them laughed the villagers irrigating their crops with fresh water,
Of the stream meeting its prime goal as dreamed by the researchers,
Who waked it up to a life of fulfillment wider than its complete stretch.

Bio: Sonali Sharma belongs to Dehradun, Uttarakhand, India. She is a postgraduate in environmental studies from Panjab University Chandigarh, India. She is also a published poet and writer. Her poems have appeared in the Indian Periodical, Indian Ruminations, Indus Woman Writing, International Human Rights Art Festival, New York, Kali Project: Indian Women’s Voices, USA, Femasia, UK, and Our Poetry Archive, US.


  1. Very good poems, my favorite is The Recharged Stream. Comment by Gary Robinson


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