Monday, 6 May 2019

Our Bundle of Joy

Image result for joy
Source: Pinterest



An hour past midnight.
The corridor silent yet lit up
With the rush of late night assignments.

She slept while I worked,
Eyes half-open, drinking in the light
In spite of the slumber.
Or so I believed.

In a moment she rose
Quick as lightning; troubled eyes
Staring into mine.
My own bore into hers
Brimming concern and confusion,
Waiting for what was to be.

Her eyes tore away and searched
For solace she couldn't find in mine.
The hands reached for the book,
Hardbound and harsh
As it banged against her head
Over and over with no end.

The demon had returned,
Gnawing its way to the mind
And tearing open from within.
They'd put a name to it.
'Migraine', it was called.

I bolted to the silent corridor,
Knocking open the doors to gather
What it took to kill the beast.
Over and over I tried
And over and over she struck
Her head still,

Until I barged into the room
Next door crying, "Sha. Help."

And then, the magic unfolded
As the girl next door walked in
With nothing but herself to heal
The pained soul awakened from sleep.

In no time, the hardbound book
Found its place back to the table,
The demon was forgotten,
And laughter mixed with our breaths.

Of her secret ways the world
Knew naught, yet we suspect her
Dance of the hips,
Words from the lips,
And the cheery cheeks for the charm.

Found often tucked in our room,
Two years ago, she had surfaced.
And two years thence have learned
The myriad faces of joy.

Because to this angel
Descended on earth,
Life was too short to be serious.
To this angel blessing our room,
Pasta dates made the day.
As did car rides and music
And Selfies and dance
And Teddy bears and hugs
And midnight revelations.

Today, this angel turns twenty-one
And we turn to her with grins,
Grateful to have found
And kept this bundle of joy.

Happy birthday, you.





Friday, 15 February 2019

What it Means to be Free

Source: bigstockphoto

"But we don't need to listen to others. Only you girls need to."
He joked when I asked him to get up. Except that it wasn't really a joke.
.

.
Dear old patriarchy,
You've probably existed since the beginning of time.
You've helped countless men to reach great heights.
You've tricked the world into keeping you close
Rather than keeping up with these 'equal rights'.




Thursday, 3 January 2019

That Time of the Year




Half past eleven on the 31st of December.
Raving crowds and coloured lights are all that they'd remember. 


I stopped making new year resolutions two years ago. Not because I stopped believing in them. But because I was still working on my older ones. The ultimate 'life- plan' was still underway, time management for me was still a bummer, and I hadn't yet sorted out my priorities quite well.

It'd been a while since I'd spoken to the diary. Every year the first pages spoke highly of my resolve. The two years saw no new diary and with it no new resolutions. In the last half hour of the year, I still found no reason to make one.

There in the midnight chill and the lights flashing in rhythm, I sat apart from the crowd. But not alone. 


Friday, 23 November 2018

When Your Plans Don't Work Out


Image result for girl sighing clipart
Source: istockphoto

"What do you really want to do in life?"
I raised my eyebrows. It wasn’t an uncommon question, especially to a teenager who is in the most confused phase of her life. Here it was again, on a normal afternoon and in the middle of a casual conversation; the dreaded question. You think of dodging it by simply giving away an answer, but to some of them, it’s never enough.
 "I told you. I want to be a writer."
"That's not what I meant." He continued, "Say, what are you going to write about? What are you going to do with your writing? What is it that you want to do with your life before you die?"


Tuesday, 30 October 2018

Choices

Image result for choices clipart
Source: worlartsme




"Are you sure?" He asked the six-year-old. Here it was again, the crossroad of choices. The tiny mind was plagued with the fear of picking the wrong choice. She looked up at her mom desperately for hints, as if answering this question depended on life itself.

To her relief, mom nodded encouragingly. It was one of those lucky times when there was someone else by her side to give the green signal. Having gotten the approval, she turned to the salesman holding up the cute pink dress from across the counter. "Yes I'm sure." she chirped confidently.



Monday, 3 September 2018

On Being Mediocre

Source: inc.com
There are two kinds of people in this world. The ones who have their lives sorted out, and the ones who have no idea what they're doing. If you're among the latter, welcome to the mediocre club. We have been rowing our way ahead with no sense of direction. We have let ourselves be guided by the flow rather than our choices. We have successfully made that majority which goes unnoticed.

You see, we have been building the podium for that minority who succeed. We're the reason they're on the top. We keep trying to climb ahead only to end up tumbling over ourselves, not realizing that we make the very mountain that the winners climb over. The joke's on us if we continue to try, because either way, we'll remain to be the muddle in the middle.


Sunday, 22 July 2018

Blank.

Poster Man testa piena di pensieri confusi - Uomini
source: pixers.it



An eery silence is floating in the exam hall. There's the mild ruffle of answer sheets and the sound of scratching pens cutting the quiet in the room. My gel pen slips through my sweaty fingers, landing noisily on the floor. It takes forever for me to retrieve it from beneath the bench.

It's not over yet. I still have enough time to finish, right? Right?!

"Five minutes." the invigilator cries. Panic wells up inside me. I read the last question. I know this. That complicated concept I'd learned so well. I can do this.


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