Her brain was acutely damaged in the accident. When the doctor was coming out of the ICU, he feared. He made an evil prayer.“I am fine to live with her memories, I will settle myself with the very thought that she isn't anymore, happily and gently. But dear God, don’t make her lose her conscious, like a dead yet, living body. Coldness in the eyes, which I have seen filled with love and surprise will kill me every day. I don’t want to die a new death every minute. Take her away, Or give her back in whole.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

Her question was clear-“Father, where does the Loss reside?” In the sighs? Cheeks with tears wiped? A lost appetite? Owning a room confined? Or in the smiles all falsified? Thus, the Father decide, It is no matter to hide, he replied-“I think its deep inside, Probably,In the layers of your soul, Where the body provides it, Ample food to be-Magnified, multiplied, intensified. But once you clarify, That it's not to be occupied inside, It starves of supplies, And dies. So child, when there is loss, Make sure you refuse to invite it inward, And absolutely never make it your lifelong parasite.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

How destiny plays games so thrilling, both stay in the same building. His books declared for the bestseller of the year, and she lives in the apartment to his but upstairs. He is making fame, she has committed suicide severe. The same window of the tall building instigated, such varied colors. In the woman-frustration and fear. In the man- an inspiration so rare. They share the same height, same sight, of the same building. From which, one flew like kite and the other down right.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

How I look to you is the reflection of how you look at me.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

... I daydream. Therefore, I am the queen, of my thoughts. Though thirteen, I drift, between,one conception, to another. I create opinions, liberate dilemmas, assert convictions, deal paroxysm, create perfections.” I am neither, a thinker, nor a, perceiver, I am a Daydreamer...

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

Identity is not the face, Identity is not the trait, Neither is it the success pace, Nor is it the personality grace. Let alone it being your cliché phrase, Or did you think, It’s some religious faith? My child, it’s alarming that it’s none, It’s even not tongue, Then how can it be, what problems you have overcome And the person you have become!

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

Identity is not the face, Identity is not the trait, Neither is it the success pace, Nor is it the personality grace. Let alone it being your cliché phrase, Or did you think, It’s some religious faith? My child, it’s alarming that it’s none, It’s even not tongue, Then how can it be, what problems you have overcome And the person you have become! This confused the little girl, and she was amidst a complex whirl, of thoughts, ideas and questions…. What is it then, Father? You have declined already, all that mattered. I can think no more, of what makes an individual’s identity? Help me through, Help me carefully.(Poem: Identity, Book: Ginger and Honey)

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

I die a little every day, in trying to revive what I lost yesterday!

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

I don’t have any fancy story, about the way we fell in love. It was that one awkward move, and the next I remember, I was looking at you.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber

I don’t have any fancy story, about the way we fell in love. It was that one awkward move, and the next I remember, I was looking at you. I don’t have any fancy allegory, about how we decided to marry, It was over the deck of that cruise, that you made an awkward move, And the next I remember, I conceived in your eye, some purer truth, and I was looking at you. I don’t have any fancy history, about how I know you so deeply, It was always that one awkward move, which I have trusted to pursue. Who said lovers are complex? All you need is their, one awkward move. Their soul in an instant, is engulfed, In that one tick of drool. That’s all what love is, that one awkward move, which is only meant for you.

— Jasleen Kaur Gumber