Wednesday, December 19, 2018

The Girl who cried wolf

The Girl who cried wolf

Splendid Sir
Do you know the girl who cried wolf?
Of course you do
Do you believe her torrid tales of
The Big Bad wolves
Who feast on her soul every day?
Probably you do.
We do know that one bad animal
doesn’t define a species
Do you?
#Notallwolves
We get it sir
Can we get on with it?

Your fragile ego
Calls her a Nazi
And disses her into a ditch
Of silent suffering
Like the good old days
When girls were good
Like little red riding hood

You forgot the moral of the story didn’t you?

Sunday, October 21, 2018

Others


Living on the mandate of others
Is basically Life imprisonment
Yet we all bear through it
All Smiles through a gritted teeth.
A rite of passage of course
To come unscathed through the other side
Full of sudden wisdom and cryptic cynicism
Silently afraid to cut these choking umbilical chords
Nourishment and community and all
Convincing ourselves this is what it is
To Be Human,



Taking the place of the Others
Who won and lost
Losing our wonder
And wondering what we lost-
The essence of being ourselves

The hyenas feed on our soul
Only when it is exposed
Keep it intact tightly within you
Guard it like a watchdog
Fundamental rights and all.
Worship it like a temple and
Pray you don’t lose yourself
For the call of others
Whatever may be the cost.




Sunday, October 14, 2018

You Too




I too didn’t
 wanna  get raped
Stalked hunted preyed on
And
Live in a social structure
Where I could do no wrong.

I too wanted to report him
And make him pay
For all the layers
He stripped off me
And made me a sexual object
Only worthy of being attained

I too want to come out clean
After I burn down this building
Of patriarchy and misogyny
Where his silence is valued more than my voice
And my silence is enough to prove his male noise.

I too
I really do
But will you pay my bills
And help me when I’m on pills?
Why will I ask you for justice
When you shame me for asking too late

Truth is
You don’t want me to voice out
And change this system
Where it works just fine for you
How is my accusation worse than his actions?
Because now you have to do something about it now?

So I’m sorry
If it is going to affect your privileged little life
But I am going to climb to the roof of your building
Take my biggest fricking megaphone
And shout YOU TOO*
*you silent enabler of patriarchy
I hope you can hear now*



Thursday, October 4, 2018

A hard day's night


Sometimes
Whatever you touch turns to gold
And people sing your praises
And name their babies after you

But mostly
It is a crap fest
And walk in the dark
A whole lot of ‘learning’ and ‘hardwork’
Without reward or due.

It is very easy to get disheartened
Or a whiny loser
A self-fulfilling prophecy
Which can be avoided
With a bit of grit




Bite your teeth
Get down to work
Not to prove anyone wrong
But prove yourself right


The world openly admires talent
And secretly respects hardwork
Become as good as you think you are
Take these bad days as a boon
Or fool yourself with any b.s
Anything which helps you sleep at night
So that you live to fight and win another day.

Actual experience makes clichés real
And superstition into faith
And a bad day
A good one

Monday, August 27, 2018

Pia Pia



Writing to the tunes of a tamil kuthu song! 



Unleash the pyaar 
When the chest is too tight 
and future not too bright 
why so morose 
when you can write a killer prose

Get in the groove lady 
and do a bam chika bam bam 
dreams can be lost and won 
firstly you need to run 
Smile at the sun
we don't need another nun 
actually we do 
Amen! 


But first go 
nanananana
yah yoo
yipee 
whooo 
MEEE

Found a judgement I was searching for all day , so decided to unleash some silliness :P  

Saturday, August 25, 2018

An ode to the good night




The night gave me his shirt
And solace and comfort
I could stare at his face
All night long
And expose my secrets how

He gifted me solace
From mundane encumbrances
For most part exacerbated by
That cantankerous bitch known as day.

Her piercing eyes
Questioning everything
Intent on making me sweat
You cannot excise the truth mom
Just ask nicely maybe?

Why do you like him more you ask
I can walk his streets
Dark it maybe
Safe to brandish out my scattered self  
And lick the ice cream off my hand

Streets sparse with kindred spirits
Silent whispers
Ready to let me in
On their simmering secrets




Once the sunlight sets in
The clocks get reset
The same souls turn back into harsh humans &
Atone for yesterday’s falter

With my back broken
I limp through the day
And surrender to my dear father
He puts on his twinkling smile
Reserved only for these special nights
And snuggles his daughter
The travails of the day seem far away
If only for these few hours.


"in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems" took this Toad's prompt to heart and the results are for yours to see. 

Friday, August 17, 2018

Stalagmites

Sharing a poem I handwrote my friends for this friendship day :) sorry for the non posting. Laptop crash and a law career makes writing difficult!


Stalagmites gracing the inner linings of my heart
inner compasses gently swaying me away
from turbulent mirages , of
an insecure voice 
which once belonged to my mind 

Making me believe 
that I can be more 
than my self
by being myself

My saviors in nightgowns
roaming a love lost town
when we have each other
we will always be home 

Sunday, June 3, 2018

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 begun the movie with the usual bubbly , enthucutlet beats. I resigned myself for a dud. But then Gemini Ganesan A.K.A Dulquer A.K.A ‘Ammadi’ dropping Kadhal Mannan entered and the film sprang to life. We could see why she fell in love , even though there were huge warning signs everywhere. He isn’t a bad dude either. It is just life. Then comes her transition into ‘Mahanati’ / ‘ Nadigaiyar’ Thilagam’ . Although I haven’t watched any of the movies which she acted out in black and white I could see the greatness. I could see the Savitri in Keerthy. Ganga became Chandramukhi. There was something awesome about her walking elegantly to the Mahanati BGM. Like Rajini walking.


Then her heartbreak and downfall. Damn Keerthy is good. I’m assuming she used prosthetics for the heavy portions and she emoted so well. Maybe I am praising too much. But she was worth it.
Also , all this throws light on the fact that the tamil and telugu industry really need to pump out more scripts for their heroines. They used to in the 50’s, why can’t they now? When everything is apparently more advanced.

The sets and art design made me nostalgic for a time I know nothing about. Madras with trams and taxis looked so good, I wish there were more period movies made. They have a charm which we somehow are not able to capture in our ‘now’ movies.


The songs are so good. ‘Mouna Mazhayile’ is all shades of romantic and mesmerizing. Mahanati BGM is so regal and ‘ Irudiyil enna Minjum’ is just haunting…. The direction , shots were really beautiful. Telugu Cinema with Bahubali , Arjun Reddy and Mahanati now is showing how to be grand and good at the same time.


Sunday, May 20, 2018

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.

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

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.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

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 superpowers
Fighting the infinity war
Hope I don’t disintegrate into thin air!

The new has become old and the old new
There is no such thing as status quo
Just a new list of never ending woes.
I twirl my hair more
To tangle it like my feels
And make decisions myself
Without sharing it immediately to my friends..
Feels wrong yet right?
An Exciting time to be alive!


Am I right?!



( I have used more rhyming words to incorporate my pre college style and ?! to show my state of mind. This is Part 1 Of my poem series on Adulting)

Friday, March 16, 2018

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 clichés for a reason. Because they worked. It is great isn’t it”
McSteamy Approves (y)

Simple stories written well which make you feel things are the best!

 Revealing anything about this book might come off as a spoiler. The premise is a rooted little love story between Saadiq Haider and a girl called Maryam , the twists of fate which befall them earlier and later. The official tag line reads - A second chance romance with a shocking twist. 

 However , if you are an experienced reader you can see these twists come a mile away.. but it still won’t stop you from feeling the very real emotions pouring from it and that is what I absolutely loved about this book. 

I tried narrating this story to a close friend and she just started laughing at how ludicrous it sounded. However , in Hamid Baig’s words it is all too real, intense and believable. The initial portions might seem like a stretch but the care and craft puts in helps the punch land strongly later. Even the word 'little' in 'Little Maryam' has significance,

The book is laser focused on telling the tale of Dr. Haider and Maryam so much so that it glosses over parts like say winning of a nobel prize!At the same time thanks to the well crafted initial portions there is a sense of rootedness permeating through the book (maybe stemming from the Banyan Tree which it so lovingly portrays). The emotions are authentic and feel earned . I went from frowning at it to crying over it much like the person who the story is narrated to over the plane!



And for the all the people who read this review and thought that maybe this is  coming from a typical senti romance loving girl , I swear it is not! I remember crying over only two books before
 1) Paths of Glory by Jeffery Archer and 2) Oath of Vayuputras by Amish Tripathi. 

I just feel that the earnestness of the book has rubbed off on me, to give it such a glowing recommendation. There were a few places where I would have liked a more detailed narration and some words which didn’t feel like it didn’t belong in the sentences but the fact that it made me cry like a baby makes me wanna not care about it. This is great work by a debutante who I hope will only get better from hereon.

Verdict – Give it a shot with an open mind

Stars – 4/5

Monday, February 26, 2018

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.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

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?





Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Pitch dark







A shadow has crept over my soul
Inching through my defences
Making me darkness herself
I wallow in grief over things lost
In the invisible bonfire
And try to survive on the warmth of embraces
Of kindred spirits
Only that it feels like a stranglehold
And I push them away with a
Weaponized tongue and my newfound strangeness
Friends and foes are all the same
Only difference is the name.
I burn through whatever light I get
Worried I might never see again
In haste I commit little crimes

And wallow once more again. 

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Sangili Bungili Open the Door




Hi guys! Wish you all a Happy New year. With New year comes the question of constantly reinventing oneself and I decided to experiment by  collaborating on a fictional story with Prason - Humor blogger and CFO of the soora mokkai blog - Chronicwriter . You can check out the blog Here , it is a damn chill blog actually and you can thank me later for introducing this kind of awesomeness in your life. So what Prason and I have done is essentially snowball a story from scratch. He writes a line and then I write one spontaneously making it all up and having tonnes of fun in the process. Hope you have as much fun reading it as we had making it.

Disclaimer - The post contains liberal doses of tanglish.

Prason


Prashanth was frantically searching for his laptop.
It was right here inside my backpack.  And now it's not. The backpack zip is open and my favourite key-chain that was fixed with the zip is missing .
My hands instinctively reached for my Jean zip and I was relieved to know that they were all in the right place.
Someone had definitely stolen my lap top. It definitely cannot be my mom. She already has a mac.
My backpack was under the bed; and hence it cannot be the maid too because she does not even clean anything under the bed.
It cannot be my girlfriend because well I don't have one and it cannot be my boyfriend too because I am not gay.
Yen ipdi mokka potu saavadikiraenaa, technically and basically I'm an IT guy and this is all I have in my life. As I am an IT guy, I do have a photography page and all my pictures are in my laptop. And oh my yesunadha! I just realized there are damning pictures of me trying out my nandu brand lungis
Well, I am kidding; there’s more than just my nandu brand mishaps. There is a floor plan of my office which I am going to rob day after tomorrow.
There are three other people in my team and I hate one of them. It cannot be Surya because he only recruited me. Or could this be his masterplan all along? It could be because we both like the same girl – “Smitha” from our team. Trust me when I say Smitha is worth sending someone to jail. Her eyes! They make my heart beat so fast that if I let it out, it can out run Ussain Bolt and create a new world record in the 100 metre dash.
Her voice makes chinna kuyil chitra sound like kovai Sarala. So I never tell her to sing. I never tell her anything actually. But I do talk a lot with Pooja, the other girl in our team. Surya hated it when ever I talked with Pooja or Smitha.
Why did I agree to the stupid robbery plan? I thought it was a stupid joke of course till it was not and by then I had already revealed too much to Pooja. I think she hated me because I liked Smitha and maybe she was the one who flicked the laptop?
My thoughts are jumping so wildly today. I shouldn't have probably had all the free filter kaapi shots. I guess Surya drugged me with those kaapi; he was too friendly with me. I am sure Pooja and Surya are together on this.
I try to call them with my phone. Alas! My phone is also missing. I had last seen it in my back pocket. What the fruit is happening guys?
All I have is this one Rupee coin. I have no other option but to invest this coin and become a millionaire. And for that I need to leave this damned room. And this is when I realize that the door is locked. Not the sharpest day for the 10th topper today.



Well I gotta pee now. My bladder is full and time is ticking too. I have used all my karate and yoga skills to control this tsunami attack. But aathratha adakkalaam. But moothratha kandippa control panna mudiyaadhu. Let me unload eshwaraaa! I wake up in a pool of sweat from my bed and I look under the bed immediately. I can see my laptop peeping through the backpack.








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