That Indian Girl In Sweden

Poetry | 21 Chapters

Author: Charu Sharma


Inspired by the beauty of Stockholm and the mundaneness of life, That Indian Girl in Sweden beautifully captures the different emotions of an Indian expat living in a different country. We believe our lives to be so different but the different emotions and phases we go through are mostly the same. This book carries glimpses of a life lived over a period of four years be it the first snowfall, the first time at the beach, the many fights of a woma....



The happy eyes,

The shy eyes,

The sad eyes,

The thoughtful eyes.

The dreamy eyes,

The lost eyes,

The amazed eyes,

The loving eyes.

The angry eyes,

The longing eyes,

The sly eyes,

The arrogant eyes,

The annoyed eyes.

The forgiving eyes,

The pleading eyes,

The deep abyss eyes,

The gated eyes,

The blank fortress eyes.

A lesser known,

Language of its own,

Easy to decipher,

Difficult to cheat.

A language truer than birth,

A language clearer than water.

Times when we want to,

Not to be read,

the blank fortress eyes,

Come to the rescue.

The eyes hopeful of a brighter day,

The eyes that made peace,

With the past and the present.

The eyes submitted to the marvels of the Unknown.

The eyes,

Gateway to the soul.

A lesser known,

Language of its own.



Life changes,

Priorities change,

Life is a buffet,

At times,

We choose,

What we want to,

And at others,

What we have to.

But as we choose,

We also let go.

As a kid,

We live in our castles,

Look at the world,

With wonder in our eyes.

As a teenager,

We seek acceptance,

And become a rebel,

Jeopardize our family ties,

To live up to peer pressure.

We see the world,

With shades of blue or pink.

As an adult,

The shades are replaced,

With spectacles,

And the reality becomes clearer,

The ice melts,

The haze goes,

We see our reflection,

in pristine water,

And make amends.

Naive we were,

To jeopardize our ethics,

For seeking social acceptance,

We make peace with our real self.

We move up the ladder,

In Maslow’s need hierarchy theory.

As a teenager,

We say we give a damn,

While we are very conscious,

About how we are perceived.

We wear masks,

Make up, fancy dresses, pretty faces,

Selfies, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter

Being a people pleaser,

Investing on ties that,

Won’t look back.

Killing the inner pain,

With painkillers,

Painkillers that,

don’t last long,

For short term relief,

We jeopardize,

our long-term interests.

We take risks,

To explore the unexplored,

We jeopardize our safety,

But the experience,

And the euphoria,

Makes up for it.

As an adult,

We evolve,

Don’t crave for acceptance,

Understand that as long as,

We can sell ourselves to ourselves,

People’s perception,

Peer pressure doesn’t count.

We wear our skin,

Start getting clicked without smiling,

All masks are thrown,

We jeopardize social acceptance,

By being self-pleaser.

At times we jeopardize,

Our personal interest,

For professional highs,

And at other,

We jeopardize,

Our career,

For personal fulfilment.

But it’s all about the trade off,

We need to eat the right food,

At right time to keep the clock ticking,

It’s the barter system,

Everything has an opportunity cost,

Making the right choices,

At the right time,

Is vital to equilibrium of life.

We jeopardize,

We compromise,

We risk,

That makes us survive.



The logical mind,

Won’t be able to,

See sense in nonsense,

Beauty in abstract,

Perfection in imperfections.

The logical mind,

Will see one and zero,

Neither negative nor points.

The logical mind,

Will see black and white,

While a whole universe,

Exist in the Grey.

The logical mind,

Will be right and wrong,

Neither accepting,

nor empathetic.

The logical mind,

Will live by the rules,

The logical mind,

is blind to pain.

The wanderer,

Sees the beauty in abstract,

He may neither obey,

nor please,

He might neither be accepted,

Nor understood.

But both have significance of their own,

Creativity and obedience,

Doesn’t go hand in hand,

Creativity defies,

It’s wild and can’t be tamed,

It’s loose and can’t be chained.

Balance between the two,

Keeps a system running,

When one dominates,

The other perishes.

Leaving behind,

A soul less machine,

The logical brain without a heart,

But it works,

And that’s all it needs.



Potential to scale mountains,

Potential to run miles,

Clogged by false lies,

Disillusioned by false ties.

Running and wasting self,

On things that don’t count.

Racing for hoarding materials,

Racing for chances to brag,

Racing for a false lifestyle.

Addicted to phone, Facebook,

Instagram, Twitter, snapchat

And selfies.

Crushing imagination and potential,

With Pokemon and candy crush.

Connected to internet,

Disconnected from self,

Thousands of friends and followers,

Fewer soulmates and playmates,

Lonely in crowds bent over phones.

Anxious for the future,

Yet reluctant to move.

Late to bed, late to rise,

Living life zombie like.

Youth ripped off its colour and vigour.

Youth – A colour-blind rainbow.

Youth living in greys.


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The temptation for comfort,

The temptation for sugar,

The temptation for the heightened senses,

The temptation for love.

Ice cream with hot cake,

An ultimate temptation,

Every foodie had tried,

But What else I have tried,

Is hot tea with cold cake,

In chilly Delhi winters.

Not a conventional combination,

A delight nevertheless.

It’s not the food that matters,

It’s the feeling it generates,

The thirst that is quenched.

Food keeps the system going,

Even if it’s bland,

The conventional food,

The healthy recommended food,

Which makes you lose your appetite,

The cake elevates our senses,

Make us happy.

I don’t like to share my cake,

Not that sharing is new to me,

But things those are precious,

Are hard to share and let go.

They say cakes are unhealthy,

Damage our system,

Give us a high for a while,

But soon the sugar levels drop,

And we crave for the unhealthy again,

Yet the desirable comforting cake.

We crave for cakes,

Knowing they are unhealthy,

We crave for comfort,

Knowing it is unhealthy.

But sometimes,

Life gets tough,

You are always on your toes,

Exasperated and exhausted,

Knowing that you still have to walk.

All you want is to sit down,

And have a warm cake.

Once in a while,

It’s okay to have,

What you crave for,

Even if they say,

it’s unhealthy.

The kick it gives,

Kills the noise of,

The health-conscious crowd.

You can have your sugarless cereal,

I want my cake,

So what if it’s unhealthy,

It’s a happy cake.



I disagree,

That I have lost.

I disagree,

That I have failed.

I disagree,

That I have any regret.

I disagree,

That it wasn’t true.

I disagree,

It wasn’t you.

I disagree,

I have changed.

I disagree,

I don’t feel the same.

I disagree,

That times have changed.

I disagree,

That it wasn’t perfect.

I disagree,

That it wasn’t magical.

I disagree,

That I have been cursed.

I disagree,

That I am in distress.

I disagree,

That the universe,

Is not even.

I disagree,

That he’s Knitting sweaters up there.

I disagree,

That my life,

Will go in pursuit of happiness.

I disagree,

That I have not found my happiness.

I disagree,

That I have weaknesses alone.

I disagree,

It’s still not the same.

I disagree,

It’s grey alone.

I disagree,

That the white,

Wasn’t brightest of all.

I disagree,

That blue,

makes me feel blue.

I disagree.



If you want to sell,

A building,

You will focus on the facade,

Use cheaper material inside,

To make profits.

If you want to sell yourself,

You will focus on the facade,

At the cost of building blocks.

But if you have to make a home,

You focus more on building blocks,

Than beautification.

And if you have sold yourself,

To yourself,

The facades won’t count.

It’s better to embrace,

The ugly truth,

Than live a life,

Of pleasing lies.



The vulnerable beauty,

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Poetry | 21 Chapters

Author: Charu Sharma

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That Indian Girl in Sweden

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