An Ode to Myself #AtoZChallenge

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We sat in two long rows, getting drenched in the humid auditorium decorated with pointless air-conditioners. Each of us was given a blank sheet of paper. You see, our professor liked to do something new every meeting. This time, the mission was to 'find ourselves'. Like always, we spent the first couple of minutes exchanging clueless glances and wishing we had skipped the meeting and attended the morning assembly instead.

"This is something each one of us needs to reflect on." he began, slowly pacing what little space was left before our seats. "Now, you may not complete this assignment in these twenty minutes of time. But I insist that you do complete it when you can." We listened keenly, although internally relieved for already having an extended deadline. It was so much easier to just listen to him speak.

"To know your own strengths and weaknesses is important. Not merely for the interview questions, but for yourselves." His eyes then scanned the front row and I sensed an impending question. They conveniently rested on me before he asked it. "Why don't you tell us one of your strengths, Dashy?" And to my surprise, I responded almost immediately.

The Last Pluviophiles

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She hated it. She hated how capricious it was, how it came all too sudden without even a hint of how long it was planning to stay. She hated how it ruined her plans every time. She hated how it made her clothes take longer to dry up, or how it forced her to carry a bag around just for an umbrella.
She hated the rains.

In the name of happiness

Dear happiness,

Back when we were kids, we didn't think much about you. You were around most of the time, so we took you for granted. It was during teenage that you started playing peekaboo. We were only beginning to meet your counterparts. The blood-boiling rage, the envy, the clouds of frustration, the yearning, and the blend of it all that we couldn't put a name to. We did manage to hunt you down in the midst of the mess. It was still possible. But now I'm twenty-one, and you've conveniently settled in a land I am unable to step on.

More than just a Mom

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The five textbooks stacked up on my desk sat waiting. Waiting for me to find the motivation to open at least one. I would've done it after all, if mom hadn't called for lunch that very moment. And I knew better than to ignore mom's call.

Seated at the dining table, the guilt wouldn't leave me. So with each handful of rice and fish curry, I built on the study schedule to be followed in my mind. The silence over lunch went unnoticed until my mom broke it.

Our Bundle of Joy

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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.

What it Means to be Free

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"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'.

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.