Mindfulness

Dementors

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There was a time whenHarry Potter was a heroand the series was my bible.A quick apparation toHogwarts castle, a land of magicand adventurethe world was indeed my oyster. There was a time whenbooks were most precious possessionsMuch before mortgages and insurance.I chewed them at the breakfast tableI gulped them before dinner timeI read them underneath Geography textbooks, I read them with torch lights. There was a time when the only secrets I had was my book stashHidden strategically below my bed.Much before, the thousand scars neatly tucked away in my heart. There was a time whenHarry Potter was my heroand the series was my bible. Atleast I could stifle theDementors inside my books 2 June 2018

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Poetry

Home

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A bustling vibrant market with the aroma of coffee beansLounging around in unwashed tee and jeans A silent tear as the Bhairavi ends in an ovationWatching a melodramatic movie for the Nth time giving you the same sensation Completing my sentences whilst pressing their arms against mineUnspoken words between us staring silently at a glass of wine His half sunlit hazel eyes as they search for me in a crowded roomThe soft twinkling fairy lights in midst of winters gloom Her gentle fragnance comforting my nose as I hide my head on her lapTucking into familiar bedsheets for an afternoon nap Brushing my hair strands behind my ears as he holds my faceWhilst I quietly slip into his warm embrace This and somewhere in betweenI return to a place called home. 13 April 2018

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Poetry

Silly Stupid Cherry Tree

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Silly stupid cherry treeJovial and carefree. Playing with the robins,singing to the bees.Weeping with the hollow wind,giving an ear to the passer-byfor it was gentle and kind. You could mistake itfor the wise oak,For it had taken perilious journeys,As it stood solitaryon the rounded hillock. Silly stupid cherry treeJovial and carefree “You blossom too much, little cherry”, moaned the robin.“You need to shed the leaves now”, thats the land’s decree.“Is it true?”, enquired the cherry tree,with the moaning wind and singing bees.Oh yes, yes, yes!! Yes, ofcourse you stupid silly cherry tree. Only the easterly wind took pity.He assured that the blossoms looked pretty.It spoke to her of the festival of Hunami and the orchards in a faraway city. So the brave cherry, wriggled and persisted,But then its deep roots resisted.The howling strong winds had its branches twisted.Whilst the singing bees had it desserted. Stupid silly cherry treeWrecked and brought to its knees. Days, weeks and months went by,The cherry continued to moan and sigh, it stood halfway uprooted and branches twisted. Little saplings of cherry bloomed nearby.“Dont blossom too much”, they were warned. For here lies the stupid silly cherry treeOnce jovial and carefreeNow wrecked and brought to it knees. 5 May 2018.

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Poetry

#MeToo

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#Metoo, Me three, Me fourLet the silences unschackle and make a way for an outpour. That brutal gaze, that unwanted touch, those lewd remarks,With a sly smile, mock laughter or those numerous fake pleas. In dark alleys, on morning runs,in a broad daylight bazaar, amidst ganpati processions. That builder in slippers on the train , the whats his name lad drowning in perfume at the bar, the man in a suit with a fancy car. Empty promises, emotional blackmail or unwarranted threats,Sober or drunk, in isolation or crowded streets. My chiffon sari, my friend’s floral dress, my sisters short skirtWill tell you the same story of vulnerability,Of burning rage, of unspoken words, of moral guilt trips, of repressed shame.Ofcourse, the person responsible wasOnly Me. With no safe place to disclose, hush your tone, what will They think, it happens, you will fall flat on your nose. Time we address a change and create an uproar.Because it has been MeToo, Me Three and Me Four. 17 October 2017

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Poetry

An Ode to Summer of 2017

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Please Stay!Don’t leave now,your warm tenderness.The many a picnics, sweet berries and stories spun on a glorious day.Of yellow linen dresses and stolen caresses,As my eyes twinkle in your bewitching mellow rays.Blue clear skies which pierce my carefree soul,the taste of mint o choco cream,as I humm your songon the crisp evening stroll.I know Autumn beckons with its promise of […]

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