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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.



You Too

I too didn’t wannaget 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*


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

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  

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 scatteri…

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

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…

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 clichés 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?




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.

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.


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…