a little romance with life

Last December was a gloriously beautiful time I had just begun to notice your gorgeous smile Felt my heart slip at the sound of that soulful voice Found myself thinking you so fine. Last December there were walks on a cold winter night You told me your stories, I shared some of mine There was fog in the air and a wee bit of tension I was love-struck, did I mention? Last December I lost myself staring into your eyes Hours filled with love poems and day dreamer sighs There were romantic movies and cheesy songs too Last December I fell in love with you. Last December you were the only man I could see I was almost convinced you were made for me You became my muse, I was making art Last December you also broke my heart. It's December again, the fog fills the air But I'm so glad that I'm not there I sit in a different city so far away from you It's December again and I'm in love with someone new. Oh, December is a glorious time I have just begun to notice his beautiful ...

Everything broken begs to be healed Even as it tries to fly away Spreading the wounds wide and open Flapping the wings hard Occasionally even trying to run Everything broken wants to be healed To find itself between the clasp of warm hands A sabbatical in a new place The only job to eat and drink and sleep As the prickling medicine runs over the hurt It will still try to break out Banging it's head against the walls And many failed escapes. Everything broken needs to be healed Even in the naivety of not knowing How torn it is and where It's obliviousness to the wound Is but a sign of how much it hurts To have been pushed into an unconscious Too much to bear. Everything broken has to be healed Even when flying and dancing Chirping away with the friends As it sleeps in the night Wanders during the day There is a pain in the heart that never goes away. Everything broken will be healed It may say it doesn't want to It may shake the floor in protest It may poop all over, tir...

An act so natural For the little white furry being It could be mistaken for a yawn A nap, the sound of purring A violation so brutal Forging innocence in the guise Of her non-humanness A shameless creature Not seeking forgiveness She doesn't ask for approval Social sanction,a private room To stick her tongue down To the love button Licking not Just once or twice Looking Neither here or there Her legs stretched wide open One pointing to the dentist's office One to the exit door And her tongue Never stops moving. An act so natural It could be casually scribbled across Her time table An act barred from Even the realm of my mind.

Aakriti/Shape there is a shadow of a woman that I see sometimes walking in me step by step, all the way, everywhere she is the one who needs company 24/7, she doesn’t speak she likes to listen, she hides when they throw light on her she has the power to become invisible, she loves her home beneath the ground, she likes how she is so neat and defined in her shape, like warm walls to keep safe, and on the right day you can see the whole world moving outside of her she, like a figure that stands the same way every day staring at the same space, in a canvas mistaken for a cage. there is a reflection of a woman that I see sometimes staring back when I try to look at my face, she just blows me a flying kiss every morning and tells me I look pretty, she changes all the time, but she never lies; she is 25 one day with a cat in her arms and a bookshelf right behind, the next day she’s a grandmother with red hair and lots of tattoos; she challenges me from...

When I was younger, I used to ask my mother how is it that we feel alone even when there are so many people in this world. I I walk like fire till my feet turn to ash It does not matter if the world beneath me burns I do not care if the steps spill my blood, My spit turning to acid, words melt my insides I can no longer swallow the shit that is happening My heartbeats up in flames, the soul boiling Under the heat of my own being I live like fire till my days turn to ash. II Cry, if the world hurts you, cry like a fucking Waterfall, and cry till those around can see you Drowning in your own sorrow; please don’t Pretend to be strong for anyone, aren’t we all Starting to look like iron men and women who Have forgotten what their hearts sounded like Aren’t we wounded souls wandering underneath Distracted bodies teaching our children Never to cry? III Oh god, please be kind to one another You are not ice, you are not a walking blade, ...

Oh dear, what a shame it is to not have the heads turn As I enter the bus in awe of my flawless beauty The shining face, the kohl smeared eyes, the ripped out Hairless flesh of my legs, and smooth touch of my hands No woman will wish her daughter to be like me For all I know, I’d be one of those young people That make her look so damn sexy at forty eight; No man will desire the fool who does not hide her legs Sprouting with hair as wild as her heart, my head with As less hair as the damn worthy of all the passers-by Who, I am told, will decide the course of my life, Oh dear mommy, I am a walking tragedy. But what will you do when I go waltzing down the Streets of Vienna in hot pants and spaghetti tops And when I would have dyed my hair red, and adopted Baby kittens displaying their loving scratches like Constellations tattooed on my skin and not wear black to Hide my tummy and pick any dress out of my wardrobe without Spending a full 30 minutes w...

My blog is my most sacred and honest place. This is me, when I'm sad and happy and when I'm hiding away from everyone because life is a little hard sometimes. This is me, broken hearted and in love and when I'm not thinking about any of it at all. And this is me- transparent, no lies, no hidden meanings, no unnecessary metaphors. Me in all my nakedness, my whole being and everyone doesn't like that, and they don't have to. But writing what I write is my choice, and whether you want to read it or not is yours. So let's just respect each other like decent human beings. And on that note, here is the poem for today, my version of Bluebird by Charles Bukowski . You can find the original here- http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bluebird/ Bluebird there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to chirp away but they’re too tough for her, they say, stay in there, we’re not going to let anyone see you. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to chirp awa...

'Desperate' is the saddest word I've heard From even far away you know it comes with no good You start walking in the other direction, Lonely or alone, who can say? But why stop a man who wants to love? I, for one, love being in love and do it exactly like in the movies Complete with my whole being, and heartbreaking honesty I sing songs and click pictures and laugh too loud And kiss like nothing else can remotely fill my empty soul If I had a lover, that's what I'd call him- lover Or honey in the soft passionate way of Andrea Gibson I'd send three am texts with Neruda's poems and tell him I cried to sleep He doesn't have to reply back immediately I'd be painting gifts, taking parts of me out to create something for him I'd write handwritten perfume laden love letters on pink paper If he cries a river, I'd make origami boats to make him laugh And I'd tell him he's beautiful so many times That he'd forget he ever felt un-beautifu...

Postponement The flower bud kept telling the bees Every day To come home tomorrow For soon it would bloom ; I tell the clock and make promises To hours that one day soon I will go on a date with time And do all the things I love to do, It will just be the two of us And I shall be present in whole With my body and soul. But life for now, is a set of tomorrows That my today keeps leaning towards And time keeps slipping Through my busy typing fingers.

 Poor fat pregnant monkey looking for some food Poor fat pregnant monkey needs to now look after two Poor fat pregnant monkey hunts all over the floor Poor fat pregnant monkey finds some but needs a lot more Poor fat pregnant monkey can’t find the father anywhere Poor fat pregnant monkey searches for someone who will care Poor fat pregnant monkey begs and pleads for bread Poor fat pregnant monkey wishes she was dead Poor fat pregnant monkey doesn’t know what to do Poor fat pregnant monkey might as well go blue Poor fat pregnant monkey has no other way out Poor fat pregnant monkey no one listens to her shout Poor fat pregnant monkey quietly begins to steal some grain Poor fat pregnant monkey it helps soothe her pain Poor fat pregnant monkey needs more solids in her tummy Poor fat pregnant monkey is about to become a mummy Poor fat pregnant monkey scares the people away Poor fat pregnant monkey will face the consequences some day Poor fat pregna...

An Ode to Whitey Do you know they’ve started calling you Whitey-bitey these days? Does it seem like there is An invisible collar around your neck now With those words inscribed across, in CAPITALS And everyone can see it, but only you feel it Tighten across your throat every time you jump On a seat to sleep and the people hastily walk Away or scare you with their fancy multi-purpose Umbrellas; do you feel it glue onto your skin Because nobody notices how calm you’ve been Since that incident 3 weeks ago, they still think You’re that scary dog; do you find it hard to breathe When everybody cuddles with pretty Coffee over There and you try to remember what is was like To be scratched beneath your ear; and at nights Do you cry at how suffocated you feel because You have this invisible collar tighten around your neck And do you sometimes get angry and show your Teeth and raise your paws to get rid of it And do people look at you and say- Stay awa...

There was once a very young tree Who had not yet understood How to grow; but he smelled of fresh leaves And the insides of his barks had not yet formed Infinite circles, and the outside felt like He always wanted a hug; There was once a young tree Who was beginning to understand How to grow, and how it tormented his soul For the sky called out to him, and so did The grass, and he wanted to stretch high up And far and wide; but oh, how that hurt. There was once a tree learning how to grow Who kept stretching here and there, and he Always wanted more leaves on his skin To l ook pretty, and deeper roots to never forget Where he came from, and higher branches So that he could spend more time with All the birds he’d admired. There was once a growing tree, who Was so scared of getting old,for he feared he Would no longer be able to do all the things He was was so sure he could; and his leaves would Fall, his branches would grow bald, and ...

Ode to the Giant Colorful Umbrella You look like a rainbow that got trapped between The thick webs of a silly spider who did not know Of the magic that happens when the rain and sun Meet once in a while; You are a lantern house in the night under the Street bulb, shining your colors so strongly, I Bet from really far away I look just like you A rainbow colored girl. And it’s magical how you have space for everyone My friend, and her friend, and for the lady on The street who forgot her rain protection at home, You shall prove a good wingman some day. And I had Always been the rain girl, the one who prides In her ability to jump over puddles And finds happiness in the smallest of things Who would have thought I’d find my joy In you You giant rainbow umbrella.

I am alone In the walk by the cars that shine their headlights Throwing their glow at my entire body; in the sounds Of the horns that pass, screaming for someone To notice their cry; in the mist of the smoke; in the heat, And the after-rain cold; in the fire of the sun; in a Raincoat with drenched feet; and in the music That is always there but never really there with me. I am alone. In my joys that I feel scared to share, sometimes Because someone else seems to be having a bad Day; sometimes in my sadness because who wants To add to someone else’s tearful load; in The petting of a beautiful brown eyed coffee-colored Dog who needs me so badly sometimes that he makes Me walk away; I wish he could learn to be alone. I am alone. In my body, my skin, my being; there is only One heart that belongs to me and it is mine; there Is only one soul pretending to be living so many lives, Only one mind that walks in one direction, needing One kin...

An Ode to Food What a tragedy it is to have forgotten The exquisite names of meals that had once Rolled down my tongue, made my lips curl Into a toothy grin, and how it had once made My belly feel so full, I couldn’t care if my Heart felt empty; these names seemed to have Jumped off the edge of my brain- now all I Know of food is rotis and curry, and dal , a Little bit of dosa and idli ; the menu of the Chinese restaurant near my house, the fried Delciousness can now only be found in the Stains of my diary entries; and the utterly butterly Punjabi paranthas that I could once eat Four at a time, are such a distant memory; The break up with that plate of momos, how We once used to meet every day;  there was once Andhra pickle in my room, we had a date with Rice and curd; once there was biryani with shahi Paneer , we would just eat without saying a word; Months back there was a home, the fridge always Leaking with fruits, and cucumbers...

The first time your heart broke you realized That something inside you actually hurts, the ‘break’ is not Just a mere metaphor; And when it broke so many more Times you started thinking that you were no Longer a whole being but broken pieces floating in a Complete-looking body; Each person came like a star in The moonlit sky of your life, but each new one got duller And so you’d cry, basking in the loneliness of your own Moonlight; but you know, you shine, so don’t you ever Fall in love with just a flashlight, and never let anyone tell You to have just a bite, and never tell yourself that less is Enough when you deserve more than you think you deserve; So wait for everything you’ve always wanted, and I’ll pray You get it (with a little bit more); till then listen to all the Romantic songs you want, all the movies that give you hope, And look at every passer-by asking yourself “Could this person Be the one?”; give your heart one time, two times, too ma...

There is still so much growing up to do. Like learning how not to be disappointed By my handwriting on the first page Of a brand new diary. And loving myself when a new pimple Pops up on the nose (maybe the pimple too) And how the hair gets all messy after sleep. Looking inside to find the courage to finally Empathize with the people I love too much But am often reckless with. Like how to express feelings for which There are no right words, and to say the right words when there are no feelings at all.   To become friends with the shadow that lurks Behind, scaring and warning me of who I am And what I could become. Learn how to let a word seep into my bones And let it run through my nerves and veins Without feeling the need to tattoo it.   And how not to judge the first bencher Sitting and making notes in a boring class, Asking questions as I stare at her from far behind.   There is still so much growing up to do Before the dust rises again and I begin to forget All th...

The Death of a Tree He died so young, they say; how unfortunate, they say; Such a time consuming affair, the cars slow down in front Of his open casket, paying homage, their cries sound like horns And the sky weeps rain, and the wind runs wild Offering comfort to the trees nearby, families and friends Of the one who lost his life; he died so young, they say Swept off by a storm, somebody needs to teach these kids To stay strong, to keep their roots firm, to hold on to their ground; The college students walk by, with him they shared the shade on a Sunny day, the first kiss, the smoke of a cigarette, the weeping On a call; the shower makes it hard to see their tears today; He died so young, they say, but he smells like the first time His leaves were born; he looks like he’s finally fallen asleep After a tiring day at work; he died so young, they say But I can’t stop thinking about the bird who lost its home At such a young age.

It is time to pack and say goodbye But all I want to do is refill my now empty Almira Back again, so I sit inside it Trying to fill this hollowness I feel. It is time to pack and say goodbye But can there ever be enough bags To record the magical laughter of the people I’ve met? Of randomly opening up to complete strangers As we sit and talk under the stars? Can a bag ever hold all the warmth I’ve received In libraries, while crossing paths, and during Awkward bathroom conversations? Who can ever express the feeling of being in love With people, sometimes without Even having spoken to them enough? It is time to pack and say goodbye And the fuller each bag looks The emptier I get inside. Is there a bag somewhere that has stored All the hair I have given up, All the inhibitions I’ve lost All the fears that scare me no more? Is there a bag with moments of songs And crying, chocolates, and colorful festivals.   Where do all these go? These magical moments That vanish in the blink of ...

Wild girl, keep thinking of all those songs Out there that you could fall in love with Never go crazy about the playlist you have; Wild girl, keep staring into and away from the mirror You're most beautiful one day, most unbearable the next Are you even the same person every day; Wild girl, heal them when they pass you by Cut them when they come too close But dare you ask what you want of them; Wild girl, go hide in your fantasies Where the flowers have no bees, the sun does not burn Look if you can find anything that matches the real world; Wild girl, get scared of your darkened thoughts Your sadness, your anger, your evil ways Wonder if your smile and love is ever real; Wild girl, don't ever let them tell you to change Let them tell you but you tell them back You love and hate at the same time, You give and take together, You smile and frown at once, There will never be another like you You, wild girl.

She sits there like a quiet wooden doll, a personal puppet With her eyes cold and dry; the curve of her lips a straight line, Sitting there in the clothes they gave her, now all she has to do Is stay as quiet as possible and it would be over so soon; They came in with their knives and cloth; heating the wax to a high degree And spilt it on her skin, little by little; she hid the frown on her face Ignored the chatter of thoughts inside her head; waited as they ripped The cloth off her skin; ask if this was a part of her she wanted to save Or would she rather be without? Too late, the decision had already been made Before she could think all the things she can think now; They bent her legs up and down, asked her to turn over, The wax reached places other people were not allowed to touch It was bad to feel pleasure there, but it was okay to get this hurt; Closed her eyes to feel better; but all she felt was the movement of a Puppet doll, now her arms are ra...

Every once in a while I go about my day Without wearing a bra Beaming with joy At this rarely felt freedom Of fooling a tradition I was taught to follow since eighth standard When I learnt that The blooming of my breasts Is something to be hidden, tied Lest they go wild Lest they be wrongly eyed Lest I enjoy the attention Lest the girl loses her mind Becomes a woman too soon. But I am a woman now I have already given away that Which they fear I will lose I have let my head have As less hair As my soul could bare And given my heart To more (kinds of) Men and women Than my relatives would like. I am woman now I am no longer fooled By fairytales And the promises I’m offered If I promise to behave Their standards are a Different type of ceiling The kind that seems Achievable at first But keeps lifting No matter how hard I try. I am a woman now And I have no intentions To behave To keep a glued smile To...

Every time I want to tell you The truth, you ask me For a lie. I want to say I did that because I hated him in the moment and Wanted nothing but revenge Blood for blood Pain for pain Heart break for heart break But what you want to hear Is that it was a silly mistake A misunderstanding A miscommunication of words. I want to tell you that I’m hurt There is a needle in my heart That pricks all day, I’m aware Of it all the time, that I don’t want to smile right now Not today But you ask for a smile You want me to say “I’m fine” I want you to know that with Him life is different now; we Are on two unsimilar paths And yes things were beautiful When they were well Now too much has changed Including him and me But you want to hear That we will try To be the same people again. I want to tell you the truth That sometimes forests burn Flowers go dry; shores are Washed away, roses prick; and Crows are not secretly s...

Loving someone without them loving you back (and being okay with it) Is a tiring game of disgrace, because every seen text with no response hurts; every smile given to someone else aches; every moment you could have had, had he looked at you the same way pains; humiliation because you hate who you have become; because you want to text him even when there are no replies, because you can’t stop trying even when there is no point; And then slowly it becomes a game of shedding inhibitions, of sitting right in front of him and admitting that he makes you weak; of breaking but never being broken; of being able to laugh when it hurts; of being fine with him not smiling back the way you wish him to, just as long as he smiles; of talking about other things, as long as you get to share stories; it no longer hurts to not be loved back, just as long as you can love.

I am going to write the worst poem today And you will close your eyes and read it Deep words deep words deep words Meaningful blah blah blah constellations But then what is life in the scheme of things And who ever thought that sonder, shush… Afterall, who decides? Hunger for what In who by who? Fill the room with smoke So that I can stare at just one lamp, it’s light And shadow, their secret dance; I wanted to kiss him tonight, have his teeth Dig my skin; finally find an inspiration for My poetic constipation; I think I can do Even with a fart- a three sentence poem But here I am inducing vomit Just to feel fine again.

Hush, dear child Hush dear child, now please don’t speak All these tales you make up, they’re worrying me Your daddy is tired, your mamma had a long day Please don’t frighten us with your scary tales Yes we love you, of course we care If he scares you, just stop going there Hush, dear child, quiet for a while Things will be better tomorrow, sleep, good night… Hush dear child, what are these things you say You’re at the school, not a place to play Don’t ask those questions, what have you learnt at home Good kids don’t talk like that, hush, no These are dirty things you tell, go rinse your mouth And don’t repeat them to your friends as you move about Hush dear child, it’ll be fine when you grow For now stay quiet, you don’t want the others to know… Hush dear child, now please don’t cry Your grandpa cares, but he doesn’t understand why Why this is happening to you, What is he supposed to do, Stay close to home, next to ma and pa Grandpa ...

Falling in love with someone who is not thinking of you Develop a new hate for technology, a pleasurable bitterness because you want to but don’t want to know when he last came online if he’s seen your messages, and how long ago You wish there was no way of knowing, maybe it would make this easier; Sit with your friends and pretend to care, but let your eye-balls roll every second towards the door, keep checking if it’s him; wander into conversations that have his name, or his best friend’s name, or his dog’s name, anything that would give a clue about whether he’s been thinking of you; listen intently, check if he is fine, is he calm? relaxed? Or does he have the look of a butcher who just killed for the first time? Take in the bitter taste of thoughts that tell you, No, he’s not thinking of you at all; question his heartlessness How he continues to walk straight, doesn’t even smile too much for you to think that maybe he’s hiding the hurt; give yours...

It was rose day yesterday and I couldn't stop thinking Whether I’m becoming too disagreeable a person to be with It would never make me happy to have fresh roses delivered at my doorstep At best, I’d appreciate the attempt at expressing one’s love At worst, I would cry for the roses who had to die So that this foolish man could express his feelings To a girl he claims to love But doesn't  know at all. 

Pick up a nameless insect The one right there, that flies by Minding its own business And hold it in your hands, Like a pearl in a shell But don’t give it a name yet, Now in your left hand hold its body Observe first its fight to escape Count the number of legs The flutter of the wings And think to yourself How ugly this thing is Then slowly with your right hand Pluck its first wing And blow it in the air Pretend like you didn’t hear The silent scream Feel big, and huge, and dangerous And tell this insect that this is a warning To its siblings and friends To never come close to you again, Observe again its attempt to escape, When it begins to settle a little Pluck its second wing And this time place it right next to the body To remind it that there is No escaping now Laugh and let it loose on the ground Watch it crawl across the floor And keep staring at it As it escapes foot-steps Heading towards some place And see if i...

Late night tips on how I should change myself You’re defensive No, I’m not And contradicting What, no! And unsure Maybe You cry too easy These are not tears You hurt too fast You don’t see my scars Try, it’s easy But it took me years.. No buts ..to get comfortable with myself Listen more But I’m tired Speak better Do you promise to understand? I fought a battle last summer Try this trick, it worked That’s great, but what if I’m in a Different war? You should be like me But then who will be like me?

Walking around with a broken heart There is not much to say Except the throat promises to burst any moment And the chest, it’s still figuring out what to do With all the space Now that the heart is recoiling and shrinking Hugging itself in the warm shower The pretense of being loved Despite the prickly broken-ness The lie of laughing a little too loudly Hoping someone will understand That the damn joke is just not funny Walking around with a broken heart Like carrying your severed arms in your mouth Dragging your broken legs in the burning sun Punctures, wounds that keep spilling The pain drips like water from a cracked drain Picking it up in glasses, you have a bag full of hurt Trying to clean up after the bleeding ruptures of your broken heart.