I came across this wonderful art piece by chiara bautista & instantly knew that I should write on this.

So it’s true, there are two kinds of learning.
One, that of your mind which is merely an adaptation of findings of law, science, civilization and universe.
And then there is learning of your heart. There is no rule book or syllabus to it. Your heart learns what it is exposed to & though this may continue lifelong but your childhood exposure builds your tendencies most significantly. Scholars call it psychology of child development & this is what brings me to my topic.


• Firechild •

A child’s heart should not
be exposed to silence.
A child’s heart should not
be exposed to absence.
For it’s too fragile to
make peace with it.

Today the little one may
play through the silence &
giggle through the absence.
But the heart remembers.
Heart yearns &
Heart longs for embrace.

Tomorrow when he’d grow through
lack of love & care.
He might be as good as others
on the outside but his insides will
be susceptible.
He’d be like a helium balloon
just as pretty, rising the sky but
much more explosive & much
less stable.

What do you do when you slip
on a watery surface?
You clench the first thing you can
grab and so would he.
He’d cling to people with an
extraordinary passion.
Because the heart remembers.
Heart yearns & heart longs for embrace.
But who’s to fill the deficit needs of
a thirsty heart?
Noone can & no-one will!

He’d cling to drugs & delude himself.
A mirage to hide contractions.
If you are already lost then what’s the
harm in getting too lost?

I hope amongst all this chaos, lingerings
& delusions this firechild finds his flame.
Because the ones who are given too
little are the ones who have too much to

So before your heart explodes carrying
all that it holds, just know;
What to do with all that love in you?
Pass it on in your deeds.
Pass it on in your words.
Pass it on in your songs.
Pass it on in your art.
Pass it on in your smiles

& You’d be good to go!

-Disha Tripathi

Emergency Exit

Depression,Anxiety,Mental Health

You have to be invisible when
you are lost in a jungle,
Wear camouflage like a
cloak for survival.
You have to mark trees to know
that you are not circling to the same ones.
This jungle is a maze with fresh air
and deadly animals.
At night, you have to drop dead silent &
blend with the eeriness,
as if you don’t exist.

Continue reading “Emergency Exit”



On some days I am a grenade blowing
my sanity in moments of weakness.
I have a hole in my heart that leaks
all the eclipsed emotions in my
nervous system to a point that the
roof of my restraint is blown sky high;
In that moment I lie bareheaded
under the dark sky at midnight.
Ghosts of my mistakes appear from under
the bed & tap dance on the wooden floor;
Tap Tap Tap the mischievous symphony goes.
Then comes the point for truce declaration;
So I write about the wrongs, the rights & the
rights that turned wrong.
Tales of Hero & Villains & Time for thats
always an added dimension.
For I must spill to be contained & I only have paper!

Continue reading “Somedays”

April Epiphany


I have never been to a lighthouse;
& I have never seen an ocean;
I have never felt waves pushing
me back like an amiable stranger
who knows the danger of deep
mighty ocean;
I have never felt the sand sticking
to my feet or my hand while I make
a tiny castle.I have no seashells ornamented
on the shelf in my study as a souvenir
to a visited shore;
As the days pass by in Lockdown,
I feel guilty for taking time so
for granted;
Ah, so human of me !


I have never got a tattoo,
of all the words etched in my core
I haven’t inked myself on myself and
carried it like a stamps of
my beliefs.
Visual representation of my
intangible thoughts; On me.
Adorable, exquisite as fashion.
As the days pass by in Lockdown,
I feel guilty for taking freedom so
for granted;
Ah, so human of me !


There are a dozen of books in
my wishlist that I didn’t order
that I now so wanna read;
To steal ideas and perspective
from it’s yellow pages and
register it in a corner of my
mind as a substance of belief.
An adopted outlook like
a persian silver cutlery my
mother picked up and is so
proud of;
As the days pass by in Lockdown,
I feel guilty for taking life so
for granted;
Ah, so human of me !

– Disha Tripathi


You know it or not but you are an artist like no one else; like no one will ever be;
Because you choose what you choose and it’s your choice what to bring home from the infinity world exposes to you.

And I hope you bring home good and bright things;
And I hope you bring home happiness and joy.

Because your life is as full as you may fill;
With the shadow of the comfort of your favorite color curtains;
With the taste of freshness of the tea of your liking;
With the fragrance of liveliness of the rose plant you planted;
With the warmth of familiarity of the old books in your shelf;
With the ignorance of the to-do post it note you pasted weeks ago;
With the motivation of the posters you stuck on your wall;
With the nostalgia of the pictures you framed;
With the sourness of the wine of your choice;
With the melody of your favorite person’s voice.
And most importantly, with the nightmares of your forgotten dreams before you finally wake up.

Dear, don’t be too lost in the quest.
Because no-matter how far you travel to find the right place; The right place will always be the one you will create with your own hands and decorate with your own choices.

Create an art piece;
Create a code;
Create a verse;
Create a dish;
Create a joke;
Create a business;
Create a sock;
Anything, just create.

Create and share with the world because though you may feel complete with your makings but you will only feel fulfilled with your givings.

Quote a value for what create and not a price.
It’s priceless.

And like I said, you are an artist that will never be born again;
I hope you bring home all the good and bright things that will help you create what world will rejoice everlong.

– Disha Tripathi

Illustration: pastel.ette