The Monster

Source: webolutions.com

Rage has failed me.

Hope has left hold.

No place to run away to,

No person to be told.

You leave us but one choice

To carry fear in our minds.

To fear the daylight and the dark,

The empty streets and the crowds,

Every gaze and every footstep,

Every solitary walk.

Your Sunshine

Source: wallpaper.com

Poof!
She'd stepped back into her room. There it was, the constant reminder of all the things undone.

The world to her was a buzzing workhouse of intimidating prodigies, wherein she sat watching her confidence slowly ebb away. The seconds on the clock ticked away in mockery of the increasing amount of time she idled by. Obligations and responsibilities came thrashing down her back one after the other, boring a hole right into the ground she so firmly held on to until now, burying herself deep into a pit she believed to never be able to escape from.

So what's your passion?

Source: Palomar

We're searching, searching. Every single nook, turning every single stone. It's not too bad, for we have company. There's like a zillion people searching with us. Every single nook, turning every single stone.

Tick tock tick tock.

A few of them have found theirs. We rejoice and pat their backs. Good for them, them lucky chaps. But it's not too bad. We’re not alone. There are plenty others still searching. High and low. Every single nook, turning every single stone.

Tick tock tick tock.                                                                                                                   

Kindred Spirits

Source: Shutterstock

"I felt that he was a kindred spirit as soon as ever I saw him."
"You're both queer enough, if that's what you mean by kindred spirits." said Marilla with a sniff.


The twelve year old put down Anne of Green Gables for an occasional brooding.


Kindred spirits. Perfect! It was simply perfect. Ahh bless the soul who coined that term. 'Best friend' sounded so low key, don't you think? You get a few good clicks together with someone and bam you're #BffsForLife. According to the statuses in social networking sites that is. Calling you my best friend simply wouldn't suffice. At all. I thought there wasn't any other choice. Until of course I read Anne of Green Gables and discovered this something that perfectly described what you were to me.


So the next day at school I rush over to you with my new found knowledge, grinning so wide you'd think I'd won the lottery. And you grinned back for absolutely no reason before I said it -

"You are Beautiful"

Source: feminismindia

"You look beautiful."

My brow is raised before the mirror.

Beautiful, did you call this error?

I see an oversized belly way out of norms

I see a brown clingy top showing off my fat arms

I see a flattened tiny face

struggling to fit in facial features.

I see a lump of gathered mess

struggling to achieve finesse.

And before this muddle of disarray

Is a beaming mom come out to say -

"You look beautiful honey."

And I smile. How funny.

A shake of head and a shrug. Moms, you see.

The Making of an Ambition

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The seven year old pursed her lips, eyebrows creased in deep thought. An Apsara pencil was held tight in her right hand. Craning her little neck, she tried to peek into her partner's notebook but found nothing useful. So once again she returned to her train of thought, tapping the freshly sharpened pencil on her chin. Their class teacher was moving from bench to bench, planting smiles in each of their faces.

Something stirred in her mind. "Teacher!", the little one thought suddenly, "I want to become a teacher!" Tightening her grip on the pencil, she neatly filled in the space in her notebook under the column titled 'My ambition'.

I am India's Daughter

Parivartravels

A cozy bed, newspaper ahead, and a nice cup of tea.
A perfect morning it was to be.
Flipping through pages of the paper and this photo is chanced upon.
This merry photo of little boys playing football in the beach.
Just another photograph of kids relishing the summer heat.
Just another game for the boys in the beach.
And yet this photo held something more; something that tingled my nerves.
This harmless picture rekindling the rebel soul itching to break out.
A gush of impulse springing from the shackled freedom within.