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Mahanati Hangover

There is something about this movie. It has invigorated the romantic in me and stirred me so much that I have no option but pen my thoughts on it. It is not that the film is without flaws – the ‘innocent’ phase of savitri tests our patience , the film maybe guilty of being too in love with its protagonist and background score was sometimes just TOO loud and it ( perhaps understandably) hesitates to go too deep into the character’s psyche or action. However , the film soars above because of only one reason – Keerthy Suresh.
Right before I had the lucky opportunity to watch this movie (twice) , Keerthy Suresh was my least favourite actress. Maybe because she acted in Bhairavaa , Remo and Thodari – the three worst films inflicted on mankind. Maybe because she was more Loosu than ponnu in her loosu ponnu roles. She isn’t typically glamorous or stylish ( not that I particularly care) nor did she show any acting skill which would warrant her inclusion in all the latest films. Until now.

She…
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Me the living

Me – the living


Writing for myself Of rivers and sunset Don’t have to worry about my skill set Or how the lines don’t mesh with what people expect.
No likes , no comments , no shares No feedback to feed my ego back No more second hand living It might actually be thrilling
To discover why I really write All over again Writing for an audience since tenth grade Reader is my default Writing not.
Somewhere along the way Eyeballs glazed my edge Was always a cat on the fence Now filled with trepidation to jump in any direction I offer platitudes and bromides In shiny gleaming proses Posing as something else
Content should always trump form But then reality always bites on the backside I can close my eyes and write a poem now No challenge anymore


I need to push myself outside these boundaries Do something different Or something simple Don’t care about the fancy words I use Or the number of lines which might bore or please you I NEED to write for myself and for that This is the First Step.

Silver Linings

Silver Linings


One good day , One Bad day Arthritic steps slowly crunching on
Best time for silver linings Is when you are blindfolded Trace them through your heart Holding its shattered pieces in place
The hand which holds your hair When you are unloading your stomach out And which holds your hand When you are unloading your heart out.
The voice which might be on a virtual screen Million miles away An emoji in the end  which wipes that tear away.
One good day , One bad day A spring in my step Steadily marching on.

Nesting

Hi guys! I am finally done with my five year law course. While academically it is a big relief , personally it is taking time to readjust from one home to another. So I start this new innings with a supposed to be simple poem about the same. More inventive stuff for later.


What is the word Bittersweet supposed to even mean? When you like Bitter more than sweet I ain’t no Ayn Rand but I do know when things get out of hand.
The streets of joyous past invite me in my sleep It is all too real now Once it isn’t tangible anymore. I run and run inevitably into the white light Only to wake up sweating underneath the not so noisy fan
All the pent up teardrops Have made me moist from inside. Even removing the corn from my foot Feels like saying bye to an old friend.
It isn’t all doom and gloom There is hope in the horizons still Life just got a whole lot more interesting I could be anything I want Yet I can’t It is the whole balancing act That adulting is all about I feel like Peter Parker with his su…

Little Maryam

Indian fiction seems to be in two ends of a spectrum – One covered by the fancy Salman Rushdies and Vikram Seths of the world who weave magical and complex tales encompassing an astounding breadth of narratives and on the other end we have our humble Chetan Bhagats who write simple stories for the ‘average Indian’. This is actually true for all literary worlds. There is a tendency to look down upon these simple tales , more so if they are ‘love stories’. Given India’s crowded average love stories , I wouldn’t even grudge the critics so harshly.

‘Little Maryam’ on first glance might come off as yet another love story. And believe it or not it is exactly that - but with a small difference. It is good!Like my favourite character McSteamy aka Mark Sloan says to Mcdreamy in Grey's Anatomy  “Cliches became clich├ęs for a reason. Because they worked. It is great isn’t it”
Simple stories written well which make you feel things are the best!
 Revealing anything about this book might come off …

Carpe the frikking diem

Seize the day Every second , every minute Do not let the drowsiness drown you , Let that moment ebb away Before long you will be viewing it from Mount Nostalgia Where powerful telescopic lenses Painfully scrutinise every moment you wasted Till you had no more With the ones you love. Things you took for granted Will be pulled away without ceremony You will be lying on the carpet Rubbing your head Wondering about gravity The day your sun burns no more Sounds like an improbability Beyond your levels of comprehension But it was always right around the corner my friend You’re just driving for the first time Listen to this burned freak and just Seize the day.

Scream

Taking a raincheck on one’s feelings Is a recipe for disaster Trying to be strong for both of us Has only made me weaker
World’s greatest armor Is being in disguise Only when the chinks start to show You will know that there is nothing brave inside
So why don’t you pull that veil Make me scream Say those words and Save me too?