Abhinav Sharma

Many words you do inspire

Abhinav Sharma — Thu, 13 Aug 2026 00:00:00 GMT

This is for You.
And you can choose,
to make of it something,
or to make of it nothing.

I could not choose,
    Oh my wonderful muse.
    not to share with you.
A smile I have,
    only for you.

And to tell you,
when you look mesmerized,
by the birds and flowers.
I too, am mesmerized,
And look at you.

Warm, feisty and resilient,
Is the heart, trapped in my chest.
Many defeats has it seen,
yet, it defies and dreams.

Your sweet smile, the golden hour of my day,
oh how it shines back through the clouds,
to make even the sun and moon shy.

Your beautiful infinite eyes,
    evoke a deep longing to breathe and sigh.
The silent thunder, you bring,
    with strong winds and gentle rain,
I glimpse such, sweet joy,
    and fear, I shall be lost again.

Your innocent, questioning eyes,
pierce through my walls and windows,
and find, to my surprise,
something, ready to surrender,
all the secrets, I once held dear.

And, I tell myself,
    I better stay away,
        so you may stay,
        where you are.
A friend, for good days and good byes,
    and perhaps, slowly fade away,
    with the wind and rain,
And I shall not be lost again.

And yet, this life may simply be,
a short journey,
    between there and back,
    between “It is” and “is it”
    between “I do” and “do I”,
there and back,

Many words you do inspire,
    if you rather not hear them
i shall lock them
in my warm chest,
    where, you can not see
    where no one, can see
So you may, slowly fade away.
But I shall keep,
the many words do inspire

With that being said,
I look into your eyes,
and find something in me say,
let it, Be.

The thrice-born Self

Abhinav Sharma — Tue, 04 Aug 2026 00:00:00 GMT

Dedication of my PhD thesis, Stellenbosch University, 2026.

And so, comes to an end, the easiest and hardest of my educational endeavours. What follows is the story of this season of my life. The life that happened to Me - in verse; while I was busy doing what life entails - in prose.

This, my beloved,
~~is because of Us~~,
is despite You and I.
I bow in reverence to You.

This flesh and bone,
formed in the womb of my mother,
with the essence of my parents’ dreams.
I was given a Name.

I glimpsed that Self in my youth,
formed in the womb of this world,
with the echoes of my parents’ dreams.
The conception of Myself.

Then I met You, my beloved midwife,
    like a storm in spring.
Who taught Me,
    the eternal dance of endings and renewals.
Who pierced my heart with an arrow,
    and liberated a thousand dreams.
Who stayed with Me,
    through the arduous labor pain,
        and helped Me give birth to Myself.

When the spring storm passed,
    the rose garden of my heart,
        witnessed its many flowers wither and fall.
The burial of every rose,
    became a womb for a new spring.

I found Myself,
and earned this Name.
The ever-renewing, ever-changing,
and ever-becoming Self - अभिनव ( Abhinav )

How I Imagine Getting Old

Abhinav Sharma — Sun, 24 Feb 2019 00:00:00 GMT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, after a long long time,
I’m lying down on the grass,
Looking up at the stars.

And in this moment of peace,
in this serenity,
I feel myself.

I don’t feel anxious,
What is,
What could be,
I feel I accept.

This is how I imagine, being old
When wisdom is my companion,
When all the things,
Which used to frustrate me,
Bring a smile to my face

When I can take, all the time in the world
To just sit and bathe in the sun,
To take the next step,
And feel the grass beneath my feet,
This is how I imagine, being old.

To be able to spend my time with you,
without being in a hurry,
To just hold you,
And walk.
To just look at you,
And talk.
With all the time in the world,
And nowhere else I would go.

I look forward to have grey hair,
And finally white.
This is how I imagine getting old.

I would not be in a hurry to breathe fast,
Not be anxious, to think fast.
I would take my time,
This is how I imagine, getting old.

Being old does not mean,
I can’t live life fully,
For me it means, the real time to live life,
To enjoy everything, with the knowledge of the past,
And of the future.

At this moment of my life,
My future is full of possibilities,
My present is full of choices,
My past is not so long
I don’t have so many experiences

But when I’m old,
My past would be the longest,
I would know everything about this past,
I would not have so many choices in the present,
And I would know my future.

I would recall the people who came,
The people who stayed,
and those who left,
When there is no more anger in my heart,
but acceptance and forgiveness.

The sweet moments of life,
When one knows,
All is said and done.
And is free,
To witness the cycle moving,
on and on,
I look forward to being old.
To take my time.
The best phase of life for me
This is how I imagine, getting old.

~~~~~~~~

24 February 2019. Originally posted on Facebook.

Are you an Angel?

Abhinav Sharma — Tue, 27 Jun 2017 00:00:00 GMT

It’s wonderful the way hazy memory of words, myths and stories gives us ways to express ourselves.

They say, life is lived in Circles. I feel, there’s some truth to it but perhaps it’s an infinite spiral - the very same feelings, reactions, thoughts - only slightly different.

Each ring becoming bigger with maturity, moving away from nothing towards the distant nothing.

@~@~@~@

Are you an Angel?

Of course I’m an angel!
Not a proud fallen angel,
but a little, melancholic one.

My deed, is to observe,
My writ is to watch,
And whisper in the ears of God.

Raziel is how I was named,
keeper of secrets,
seeker of knowledge.

I saw you and I spread my wings
without a thought,
without hesitation,
I see the most wonderful secret.

I spread my wings,
a black,
a brown,
a yellow,
and white,
all together
and so I flew down.

And here, I stand - before you.

@~@~@~@

27 June 2017. Originally posted on Facebook.

For the one who has two beating hearts

Abhinav Sharma — Thu, 05 May 2016 00:00:00 GMT

I saw the pic of the last class and I guess, the last five minutes were an experience. So, I scribbled something for the one teacher who has been the most memorable one for me - Anamika Ma’am

So, here goes…

~~~~~~~~~~

For the one who has two beating hearts,
may the little ones beat stronger everyday,
and the bigger one become greater still.

For showing faith in me,
when all the red ink spoke otherwise.

For guiding me through trust, not commands
through subtle suggestions, not verdicts

For making me realize that,
there are those precious few,
who’d understand my unformed thoughts,
and be a joy through thick and thin.

You know, I haven’t attended classes much,
but God knows, I have learned your lessons.
Lessons in words and in deeds.

For the one who has twice as many hearts.
The ambitious fool that I am,
there are still naive good parts.

Thank you for letting me be myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. Ma’am if you read this, bs ab pass kr dena - MC tedha subject hai;p

P.P.P Yes, everyone. Post-supplementary exam, 9 o’clock musings into the night are very elegant indeed.

I recommend you try it;D

5 May 2016. Originally posted on Facebook.