Poem on Meena Kumari, the Tragedy Queen of Indian Cinema

 

Meena Kumari: The Tragedy Queen

Beneath the lights of cinema's glow,
A soul too delicate, the world didn't know.
Her eyes, like oceans, held secrets untold,
A life of sorrow, silent and bold.

The Tragedy Queen, they would call her name,
But no one saw the heart that burned with flame.
With every role, a piece of her died,
As tears from her spirit could not be denied.

Her beauty was more than the screen could show,
A tortured heart where only pain could grow.
In silver gowns, she'd smile through her tears,
Dancing with demons of long-lost years.

She sang of love, of loss, of grace,
But off the screen, there was an empty space.
Her own love was a dream never true,
Her heart was broken in shades of blue.

Her life a script, cruelly rehearsed,
Each tear on her cheek, a silent curse.
She loved like a poet, but fate was unkind,
Her love, like her soul, was one of a kind.

A queen, a legend, a heart full of pain,
Meena Kumari, lost in the rain.
Her life, a tragedy the world did not see,
But in the stars, she’ll always be free.

Her name lives on in the echoes of time,
A voice so pure, a beauty so divine.
Though her heart was heavy, and her story ends,
She'll remain in our hearts—forever, a friend.