Places · Poems · Stories · The Paths Travelled

Cravings

I crave the river bank

where lying upside down

I forgot my doubts and fears

grasses smelled of rain

and so did the mud

but they were always quite about it,

like

sophisticated angel eyed butterflies

that flew, flew, flew

befriending dragonflies that had rainbow hues

in their wings

as they went up, up, up

around a farm with pearl teethed buffalo

who lost her pearls

but still gave milk,

still chewed the dried maize plants,

still breathed out aggressive carbon dioxide

as she saw us climbing down a small narrow path

where the pink pastel house waited

like

a tree that waits for her birds to show up at night

I crave the river

under the bridge

that brought clouds right next to my nose

making me sneeze but smile

I was one among the clouds

and I had no full stops

only semi colons

of days that went

by bye bye

in blink of an eye

there was a hill with two rainbows,

one moon and one woman

who had lived a drought in a forest with no water

she was washed into a village

with no blue water bins and

 she talked, talked, talked

but did nothing to change the dresses

that marked the up and down

of that village and town

I crave the banana groves

gated greens of mulberry trees,

a mustache man with strong hands

whistling tunes into basuri

and his family in the rice fields

digging beneath the earthy soil

growing soul in rocky hills

DMCs in a room with fireflies

tinkerbell’s knock, knock, knock

and smile that opened all the locks

windows facing happiness

night prowl of brown-white cat

gazing stars and planets

that blinked, blinked, blinked

stretching in a yoga mat

I crave all those things

that made me breathe the misty mists

I believed in the mysteries

the calling of never-ending melody

and I crave all those things

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Poems

Physiology of Self-doubt

1. It begins with a kid.

    dubious “Can you do it?”

    instead of

    smiling “You can do it!”

2. It begins with a fear.

    you’ll fall down the bicycle

    before you even learn to ride.

3. It begins at night.

    crawling ghosts will eat you alive

    if you go down the stairs alone.

4. It begins with mark sheets

    nothing is ever good enough

    you can do better next time. 

5. It begins with how they see you

    too fat; too skinny;

    too much make up; no make up.

6. It begins with silences

    half broken homes

    incomplete sentences

    waiting approval. 

7. It begins in a dead end zone

    a cul-de-sac

    of conversations

    in broken dreams. 

8. It begins at the very beginning

    as an embryo metamorphosises

    into you who knew

    where the limbs belonged

    where the brain belonged

    into you who doesn’t know now

    where you belong

    where your life belongs.

9. It doesn’t end.

 

 

 

 

Odes to people I know and don't know · Poems

Don’t need no Dufus theory

Senpai has a drawer full of chocolates,

Desk full of tea cups,

And a laptop in front of him,

While he writes me letters,

Long, beautiful letters.

He speaks about his Harry Potter marathons.

Luna Lovegood reminds him of me.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S marathons,

He is Ross to my Phoebe.

Senpai, with so much going on,

With reports to submit, with proposals to work on,

Sits down in an easy chair to answer my tricky questions,

He explains bio-informatics in metaphors

His luck packages come through exam phone calls.

Senpai sings through the youtube links that goes,

“tera mujhse hai pehle ka naata koi,

Euhi nahi dil lubhata koi!”

And then I miss the early mornings

In the corridors where we teased him singing,

“You are my senpai, my only senpai,

You give me dokis & shades of grey!”

Miles away senpai sits in an easy chair,

To answer my questions that starts with WHY

Why me!! Or Why not me!!

To reply to the whining letters

Where I ask him about the whereabouts

Of nice dufuses, the cute dufuses,

Who were supposed to show up,

Because it was time

It was high time for a dufus to come along

To spin my world around

And then with a few 100 reloads,

I get a letter where he explains to me

What he calls a theory:

 

It states that,

Souls could exist like Helium

Not needing a compliment

A single stranded RNA

Inside a protein named body,

Existing and breathing and being

Just there alone

Happily expanding

And contracting

Living.

It states that

You are a sun

Or The Sun,

You can burn YOU down

From an average star

To a Red Giant

And then

An interstellar cloud

How fine does that sound?

It states that

You don’t need a plus one

A plus anyone

But in time,

Someone will come along

And you’ll start to see

The ideology

Behind not being

A sun or the sun

Behind not being a helium

But till then,

You don’t need any dufus.

 

Poems

Barely a whisper

I was barely a whisper today,

in a world full of noise

My hiccups were more audible

than my voice.

 

I was barely a whisper today,

or was I always one?

The mirror image who stares at me

is she mimicking someone?

 

I was barely a whisper today,

and yet I felt so loud

Absurd dreams of reality

bundled with grayish cloud.

 

I was barely a whisper today,

tomorrow will be the same

Words refuse to speak out

I hope,

Writing them down isn’t lame.

 

 

 

 

Letters and Letters · Poems

How does it feel?

Dear Junk E-mail,

How does it feel to be a Junk?

Dejected in some sidebar,

Looking up at the inbox full of “important” e-mails

Do you feel out of place too?

Maybe you were not meant to be there,

Maybe it was a mistake,

You have no way to correct it, do you?

So you accept your fall,

You sit there in the sidebar,

Stare at them typing away the replies,

Letters of love and hate, pass by you

And smile

With pity hanging

Into the end of their J’s, g’s, S’s and O’s

They are good letters,

Full of feelings and emotions,

Words full of rage, devotion,

You like them

You want to be them

You will never be them and you know it.

 

How does it feel to end up in a trash can full of other junks?

They are scared as you are.

They fear that little bin button,

A click and they will be gone

Nobody will miss them

Nobody will try to recover them.

How does it feel to know that there is nobody by your side?

To tell you that it is okay to be a Junk,

That you are important.

You will never notice them even if you tried

Because you know that, you are not important,

You will never be.

Knowledge kills you everyday

Hope still keeps you alive

And sometimes,

You find your way through servers

Ending up in the Inbox,

Shouting out loud your abilities, your worth, your words

Just to be frowned at and spammed.

 

How does it feel, dear Junk Email?

To be not worth a dime to the person you are sent to,

To be anonymous in the world full of names

Visibly invisible in the crowded shroud of letters.

How does it feel?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poems

Just Breathe

So

you just breathe,

when nothing makes sense

you tell yourself

“Ein Moment bitte”

and forget your world

the darkness will fade

you breathe.

So

you close your eyes

and hibernate

collapse inside walls

insecurity hugs you tight

you close your eyes

you breathe.

So

you just breathe

save your heart

from catapults of pain

das macht nichts

it doesn’t matter

entropies were meant

to scatter

your life around

So

you just breathe.

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Catapult

Poems

Because.

Because we are selfish bitches,

With attitude problems so huge,

it hurts.

Because we live like queens

Fighting with dragons in the dungeons

Where we breathe

in the fires of sexism and prejudice.

And still survive the toxicity

Because we are toxic.

 

We absorb hate like blotting papers.

In crowded buses, we stare into the very soul

Of molesters, of seemingly kind strangers

Who poke and pull into the dresses we wear.

Sometimes we avoid getting out of the house,

Staying in until the hate disappears,

Sunshine appears,

We try to be the outdated versions of ourselves,

Where innocence ruled.

We absorb love too, like blotting papers.

Because we are selfish bitches,

We are scared of commitments,

We are scared of looking

into dreamy eyes for too long,

Because we know, how it could end,

Because we THINK.

Because we have brains with neurons

That somehow connects with our souls

Therefore, we vomit “no” everywhere

In the plates of expectations

and bowls of tradition

Because our schedules are filled

With self-centered dreams.

 

We are selfish bitches,

Guarding our kind with Valerian swords

Easing away the restlessness.

We are our own versions of Jane Eyre

Poor, obscure, plain and little

We are our own Patronuses

With as much as soul and heart as you do.

There aren’t any cages built for us,

There never will be.