Not the end

And just because he's gone,

Doesn't mean there won't be another

Sweety, you're hearts just too bright 

And love is too much of a drug 

For this to be the end. 

Withdrawal Symptoms

Squiggle --- Scratch --- Bam

Her thoughts were running a millions miles a minute, her heart was a pool of chaos. Sleep disturbed. Hunger an alien. Nerves shaking her hands.

Her professors taught her that withdrawal symptoms are seen when you stop drinking and smoking and doing drugs.

Who knew that he could be so addictive and she would be showing symptoms when he left?

The Kiss

 He was from India, She from New York
Met as friends, soon became lovers
3 glorious years they spent together
But alas, summons came from home
And he had to leave.
That last night, they met by the airport
A sweet, deep kiss. Neither wanted to stop
Salty tears just made things harder
But all hope was not lost,
You see... the kiss was a promise of Forever















60 years later
This time another kiss
Surrounded by family and the ones they loved
This time, the summons were for her.
Their years together seemed too short.
Heavy hearts and salty tears,
This time another kiss,
Yet again, it wasn't really farewell,
But a promise of forever.

Life as we know it

She looked away from her laptop, and wondered ‘ wait… what do I really want to do in life’?.

‘Dummy! Concentrate on your paper! Now is not the time to have philosophical discussions with yourself’, said her mind.

‘But wait… what is the point of writing this paper? I mean… I don’t know what to do in LIFE!!!!’ she shouted back.

‘well, you write this, or you can say good bye to your grades’, her mind retorted.

‘Fine’, she conceded, and went back to her paper.

‘Whew! Its 11:46! Atleast I managed to send this is in 14 minutes before the deadline’, she told herself, giving herself a tired mental pat.

‘Now, I can think about my life!’

Just then, her phone pinged with a text. It was the cute guy from her economics class. ‘Hey! Do you want to hang out tomorrow? We could go grab some coffee or something?’ he asked.

‘yay!!!!!’ She did a happy little dance, earning weird looks from the other drowsy kids in the library.

The rest of her night was spent thinking about cute guy, and her philosophical side was pushed away till the next exhausting study session. 

Forget

Forget all your troubles

Come to me my love

Tonight’s all we have

For memories, years from now

Forget about the future

The confusions and doubts of the past

Tonight, let’s dance together

Till tomorrow dawns bright

Let’s join together

Hearts, bodies, souls and minds

Now’s not the time for promises

But the time to rejoice and delight

Forget about them and their rules

Forget about the consequences which follow

Let’s forget everything, ourselves even 

And just be here, now, soul to soul

All that remains now, is you and I 

All that is here, is hearts beating alike

The fears and the overthinking can follow tomorrow

But for now, let’s just be, souls intertwined

The cost of silence

I have read and heard several passionate posts of people talking about the cost of silence. I thought I understood, but I didn’t. Not until it affected my own life. They say that personal experience is the pathway to true learning. They are right.

Keeping my silence was unpleasant. I was not comfortable. I was plagued by guilt and frustration. I did not respect myself. I was angry with myself and I felt plain uncomfortable. But I was too scared to speak up. People would not like me. I would be alone. I felt the need to adjust and compromise till I did not know where I ended and others began. I hated myself and I felt weak. Most importantly, I was easily convinced about how I should look at myself. Why? I did not allow myself to experience what I thought about myself. I defined myself by other people’s opinions and perceptions because I did not trust my own. After all, I did not even allow myself to give voice to how I felt. So then how can I rely on it? Something voice less?

I soon found myself in a nasty entanglement defined by anxiety attacks, vicious cycles of self- doubt, depression and mind games. I constantly suppressed myself and put other people’s happiness and liking above my own. I tried to blend in- not make a scene. My voice, which I had only begun to find back in Chennai was smothered and pushed into a tight box inside of myself. I started to fear everything even more until all I was - was condensed into a tight ball of anxiety – a jumpy, lumpy human mess where good intentions and sensitivity of being were fighting to rise through an ugly mesh of self-doubt and fear of rejection.

In the end, what was I left with? Acceptance and peace of mind? NO. Friends and happiness? NO. Harmony and lightness of being? Hell NO. In the end, keeping my silence costed me everything I wanted. Not only did I not get to keep my friends, I was left with a terrible taste on my tongue – the taste of self-resentment and hopelessness, and THAT, is the cost of silence.

Many of us keep our silences for a variety of reasons – it’s not worth it. Yes, speaking may cause disharmony, but it allows us to experience and share what we feel before it becomes an exaggerated, complicated mess. I have learnt that speaking up can prevent a lot of problems from even happening and ultimately, it sets you free.

So here's to speaking up and helping the world become a more genuine space!

Dear grandfather,

As a child, full of innocence,

Not knowing what to do or what to say

Tathagaru, you thought me 

That intelligence is the most important , be it night or day

You inspired me to learn, 

Encouraged my love for books

You made me feel like I'm allright

In a world which constantly critizised me for my looks

You made me want to know, 

To explore all the curiosities in the world

You made me raise my voice 

Whether in outrage, joy or surprise 

You inspired by your example

And made me want to achieve

You helped me unfold my wings

And gave me the courage to be me

You keep stealing my books 

And arguing with me 

I keep messing up your hair 

But I guess that's how it was to be

Now I'm miles away 

In a different country and culture

But I want you to know this on this day

That to me, you are always a hero

A hoarder's memories

Its when you start packing for studying overseas that you realize how hard it is to leave stuff behind. It's then that you are faced with the hard decision - the nightmare for every hoarder - what to pack? what to leave? 
As I walk around and try to put things in, I am overwhelmed with emotions - How do I leave behind these precious things - time capsules which hold so many stories and memories?

Do I leave behind the small black purse studded with tiny glass mirrors encased in orange embroidery, when it brings back to my mind the time I bought it in Mantralayam - saw it and instantly fell in love with this perfect accessory for the 13 year old girl I was then ? How do I leave it when I can still see how amused my family was when I refused to let go of it for the rest of the trip?

Do I leave behind my books which are tearing apart at the seams because of the countless hours spent reading and re-reading them? These are my friends who I laughed, cried and dreamed with, utterly lost in worlds and lives which are as real to me as my own. 

How can i even think of leaving this old perfume bottle behind? It was the first perfume my dad bought her, over 20 years ago, still full because we are yet to find a reason precious enough to use it .

A part of my cupboard is filled with dupattas - colourful shawls fraying at the edges and faded here and there. After all, these were the very dupattas my mother wore when she was my age -  A tangible connection between two 19 year olds seperated by decades of life. 

Well, what about the decorations on the walls? These colourful pieces of art are the testimony to countless hours of effort. They bring back to mind the joyful satisfaction of having created beauty in different forms.

And lets not forget the furniture. The beautiful antique book shelves and carvings passed on from generation to generation, the sturdy wood table which my father once studied for HIS exams on, the chairs that my great-grandfather used in his office and the most beautiful of them all -  my gorgeous queen sized rosewood bed, complete with 4 pillars and delicate carvings on its high head boards. This bed makes you feel like royalty and has been the site of several games including "lets build a fort" and hide and seek. You see, my mom bought this bed with her when she got married to dad and carefully decorated its many carving spaces with pictures that she lovingly collected from postcards.

Do i leave behind my life sized teddy bear Jaggu and my favourite childhood games ? Or the art supplies bought during my "artsy phase"? The many friendship bands I collected faithfully from the different people who were a part of my life at different stages? The colourful woollen ones I made ? How can I possibly even take this intense feeling of "myness" which I get the minute I step into my room or the warm feeling of home which I am submerged in the minute I step through the gates?

If I think about all the material things I am forced to leave, it will probably run into pages and pages. You see, the objects that we own are precious to us not just because of their physical value, but also because of the tales they tell and the smiles and tears they bring back. They suffuse us with a warm glow when we just spare them a thought. 

But we do need to let go of them at one point right? We need to let go so we may welcome new things into our lives. No, they will not be forgotten for the stories they hold will forever be alive within our hearts. But at some points we do have to let go.
And so we let go....
After all, You cant pack them all! :P

Nostalgia

Seeing it all, as if for the very first time
The green of the plants. the tan of the ground.
The shine of the marble, the beauty of the wood.

The lines on her face, the piece of silk
Covering her chemo- baldness
As she walks around the porch,
In a path unchanged in decades

The silver in his hair, the humour in his eyes
He Makes a grand gesture
As I descend down the stairs.
His way of greeting his princess.

An adorable smile on her face, 
As she turns from the stove
And holds her arms out for a hug.
"Good morning cutie pie", she says
In a tone filed with love and joy

The closed door to his room,
Behind which he sleeps
In my mind's eye, the walls are no barrier
As I see him clearly, sprawled out on the bed.
A peaceful smile on his face.

19 days and counting
To-do lists running into pages
Agitation a familiar churning
Emotions, a confused ball of wool

At this point, excitement is overwhelmed
By a cacophony of sadness, fear and nostalgia
Spinning the mind in circles
But, somehow normal

Part of the process, I realize
Temporary after all
For which girl wouldn't feel likewise
When doors opening require old doors to close?

FOR SHE LOVES NOT A MAN, BUT A WOMAN

Note : Ever since I wrote this poem, I have received various responses ranging from " Are you trying to come out", to - "You're going to hell". Let me tell you why I chose this issue.
The world is ripping apart at the seams with the hatred and cruelty of one group of humans against an other, on various issues. We are becoming so rigid in our beliefs that we hate to see the differences in others which contradict what we believe in. We fail to realize that if we truly believed in something, we wouldn't require external validation. While homosexuality is slowly being accepted, there are still so many homophobic people amongst us who are willing to kill someone for the crime of loving another against societal norms. Instead, lets understand that one's sexuality needn't threaten us just because its different from ours , Lets embrace human diversity and live with each other, instead of opposed to each other.

Her heart is strong, True and warm

The love she spreads, a sheer delight

But THIS heart has erred, ‘they’ say

For she loves not a man, but a woman

She loves not a man , but a woman!!!

Oh what great a crime!

Her days are spent spreading joy

Her time, she gives freely, to those in need

Seeking to add a little bit of shine

Even in times when its beyond her means

But OH NO! shun her, Don’t let her near!

For she loves not a man , but a woman

At work, she’s a Whiz

Her every creation , the fruit of great dedication

Her achievements? OH! Plenty and great!

Her record? Unquestionable!

But OH NO! Shun her! Don’t let her near!

For she loves not a man , but a woman

Her friends know her for the angel she is

Never too far, a constant star

Shes always there- in rain and shine

A strong shoulder,  A sweet smile,  A warm hug

But OH NO! Shun her! Wish her dead!

For she loves not a man , but a woman

A caring daughter, A loving sister

A faithful partner , and a remarkable friend

Beauty, grace, charm, style,

Strength, love , brains – A charming delight

But OH NO! None of these matter!

Shun her, Shame her, Wish her dead!

For you see….. She loves not a man , but a woman !

THE DEMON INSIDE

           Wither ,Wither Die!!!!
      Says the demon inside 
   Cloak yourself in shame 
      No!!!!  You DON'T deserve life

       Let me out you swine!                 
                         Let me live your life
      Drag you through the dust 
                Filled with anger and strife



Make you feel guilty , 
 Crawl, curse and cry 
 Listen to my voice,                                           
 Eat you from the inside 

    
                Guide you to your fall,
        Deaf to the creator's call
                   Lead you to the cliff
              Let me end your life

SHE'S ME

        

I'm the girl you called a liar
I'm the girl you called a thief
I'm the girl who cried herself to bed
I'm the one who wished she were dead

I'm the girl who begged to be included,
I'm the girl you called a loser
It's me you bullied.
that you cut with your words
It's me who believed,
that she was unwanted and cursed.

But now, I've grown , Brave and Strong 
No more a victim, But a glorious survivor

       


I read books, like they tell my story
I sing songs , for they free my soul
I love old places , maps and history 
Chocolates and travel, mysteries aplenty

I dance madly , with all that's in me
I laugh loudly , with no restraints
I dream big, with stars in my eyes 
I move freely, with no constraints 

I love, I laugh, I cry , I fall
I shout and scream my frustrations aloud 
I dance, I sing, I smile and fight 
I am me , unashamed and proud 

                                                         

FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS, FOLLOW YOUR HEART!

What is your dream? 
Each and every one of us have a dream. Something that we want more than anything in life. Something that almost seems too good to be true- THE one thing you would do if you could do anything!
When people generally choose careers, they focus on several things like the money they would earn, the time taken for training and the job demands. Yes, these are certainly important. 
But, the problem arises when they forget to question exactly what they want from life and use this answer to fuel their choice.
 The result? Discontentment, A feeling that something is missing and a lack of real sense of purpose in life. 

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS?

1) When you follow your dreams, work becomes enjoyable. 

Lets face it, our work - our profession is one of the most important things in our adult life. When you are not happy with the work you do, it feels forced. You are unhappy and this unhappiness translates into other areas of life. 
On the other hand, when you do the work you love, you look forward to it. it becomes something you WANT to do, rather than something you are forced to do. It gives you happiness .

2) Want - the greatest motivator

Want or desire is one of the greatest motivators there is. When you really want something, you don't let anything or anyone stop you from getting it.
So, when you do the work that you want to do, you push yourself to the limits. You work harder and longer than you ever thought was possible. Your creativity blossoms and you innovate like never before.

3)Your chances for SUCCESS increase
                      
                              

SUCCESS. this is such a ambiguous word isn't it? While definitions of success vary, one thing is clear. Those who succeed always give in more than what is expected of them . They DON'T give up. They may repeatedly arrive at dead ends but they still persevere.
When you care about what you do and are really passionate about it, You are willing to go the extra mile. You are willing to keep on against all odds and ultimately you achieve your dream.

4) What-ifs are NOT your reality

One of the worst things that can happen when you grow old, and look back on your life,  is to question what your life has been all about. 
Where has all the time gone? what do you have to show for it? 
The What-Ifs haunt you. WHAT IF  , you had followed your dreams? WHAT IF , you had not let self doubt, fear or excuses stop you from doing what you want? WHAT IF?
When you follow your dreams, this is not your reality. You take a chance on your dreams. You pursue them and open yourself up to all opportunities. 
Yes, you make mistakes. Yes, you get knocked down now and then. BUT, you at least tried! You gave life your best shot. 
                                
                                    


Remember, life is short. you only live once . So why waste this precious life doing something you hate?

:(:

By day she smiles, she laughs aloud
her infectious joy was praised by the crowd
By night she cries, silent and hidden
pain smothered by pillows, cries, softened



Filled with hurts of years past,
Filled with hatred for who she is 
Overwhelmed with problems, both true and false.
Crying out into the sky so vast

Driven by desperation, dark and keen
Tired of pain! craving release
A saline solution, she discovers is key
so she toasts to herself and drinks on three





She cries and cries , bent over the bowl,
begs for forgiveness, from the one above
Agony to anger, anger to hatred
Till at last she purges, her sorrow, dangerous 

Now,
Now she's relaxed, freed from the dark
on a laugh she rises, shakes herself out
A smile she flashes, blinding and bright
To the world, she returns , a beacon of light

This cycle, it continues - day in and day out
No one suspects! Not a single doubt
Joy by day , desolation by night
Till slowly ... Slowly she fades and loses the fight 

HEARTWARMING NO.2

Hello! This is another heart warming incident I came across while in the bus . 

I was standing in a medium-crowded bus and was looking out of the opposite window.  A women and her son sitting in the second row caught my attention. This woman was really young, around 22 and her son looked like he was around 5. At first glance I thought he was her cousin or nephew, but then, I noticed the mangalsutra around her neck and... he called her Amma when they got off the bus. 
Anyway, this lady was sitting quietly and her son was falling asleep. She had several bags on her lap and around her feet. Yet, she twisted her body into what looked like a very uncomfortable posture to support his head so he would not jerk awake. She did not even show a twinge of discomfort. Instead , she looked down at him with a soft smile.
This was really heartwarming. Its just an example of the things our loved ones do for us. Things we don't even realize, Things we don't ever thank them for, yet show the amount of love they have for us :)

IT'S TIME FOR SOME DELICIOUS GARLIC BREAD!

I was surfing through the net, searching for an easy to make garlic bread recipe, and this is what I found. Damn! This is so simple and tastes like your very own piece of heaven . Best of all? It takes under 3 minutes to make and uses only 4 very common ingredients! 

INGREDIENTS :
1 slice bread
1 clove of garlic
1/2 tsp olive oil
salt to taste

METHOD:

1. Lightly brush the olive oil on both sides of the bread . 
2. Make a paste out of the garlic clove (by mashing it ), apply to both sides . (Its ok if tiny pieces stick to the bread )
3. Toast the bread on a Tawa till golden brown

RESULT:  You have some DILlll....icious garlic bread which rivals its extremely overpriced siblings from the poshest hotels! 

PS. I used mutigrain bread and it was awesome!!!!!

DRIVING...WOAH!

I officially turned 18 a few days ago and was so very excited because, apart from the obviously much awaited  legal entry into adulthood (yay! ), I could now drive! My family is really strict about keeping to the law so I was never allowed to even attempt driving before . 

Day 1 of driving school... I am really excited and go in with bucket loads of enthusiasm. I sit behind the wheel and then ... AND THEN  I learn that driving is not as simple as i thought!

 There are gears to change, judgements to make about distance and extent of steering, signals and speed breakers to watch out for, and since I live in India, dogs, cows, and reckless drivers to deal with and dodge.OH! and don't forget ! confusion about the general mechanisms of driving a car. I guess it does not help that I am prone to watching only a limited area and am often caught in day dreams.

RESULT : A mess every morning where I end up really really confused. It has also translated onto my cycle riding skills (clean please! ) Earlier, I was good at it. I used to cycle to school and anywhere within a 5 km radius. Today, when I decided to go cycling, I saw myself constantly muttering prayers along the lines of "Please don't kill me. please don't kill me. I wont bother you, you don't bother me ok? God!!!!!!!!!!!!! help me!!! hey, Dude, yea yea awesome bike. now please stay away from me. please. " 

Basically, extremely stressful. Apparently, this is how learners usually feel in the beginning . well, i hope that's the case with me and that I can soon navigate along the roads without suffering mini- heart attacks at an alarming frequency ! Meanwhile, people who already drive, I have a new found respect for all of you.

A little boy by the tank

Sometimes, you come across these really small things ,which, for some unfathomable reason ,touch your heart and make you smile

There i was, just waiting idly in the bus stand, waiting for my annoyingly late bus. Suddenly, i see this little kid running at top speed towards me. At the last minute, he veers off, and stands panting right behind me , in front of the enclosure surrounding the mylapore tank.

He looks up, at something on a tree on the inside. He looks at it so intently, i get curious and look up too. There, I spot a mango.A green mango, ready for the picking.

The boy stares lustfully at it.He jumps, of course, he does not reach it.He jumps again, he does not reach it.He looks around, finds a stick and jumps with it... to no avail. 

He now climbs up a part of the enclosure, reaches out - still he does not touch the mango. He tries to climb farther but he slips. Now, he looks around for a bigger stick, he doesn't find any, Dejected, he walks away.

This you would think is the end of the matter. but no. Now, he comes back with iron cast determination, with a little girl in tow. The girl looks at him admiringly. He climbs up again. He stretches, stretches, almost reaches, but not quite.

'paravale anna ' She says - its ok big brother. He does not seem to hear, he tries again and again . Finally, he gives up. He climbs down and sits down , looking so sad. His sister comes up to him and with a big smile, produces a chalk. He smiles back and they both settle down, side by side, drawing squiggly things on the wall.
(ps. I would have attached pictures but they got accidentally deleted )

NOTE!

A small note :D
My friend has just started a photography blog.He absolutely loves photography and has a really unique way of looking at things.
http://tarunsfotoventure.blogspot.in/
check it out! :D

HEARTWARMING NO.1

So yeah, one of those crazy ideas, which just might work. I'm planning to write short posts about incidents which I came across , and made me go AWWW :P :D

SO,Here, is Heartwarming no.1:

 The other day, I was travelling to college by bus. I was bored, and looking out of the window, with music blaring in my headphones. The bus suddenly jolted to a stop( Chennai bus drivers, I tell you... :/).
A man and a woman got down from the bus. The man was this typical North Indian guy - Tall, super fair, with pitch black hair. The woman was a pakka madras ponnu - Thick black, well oiled hair in a  long plait, a Big red bindhi, modest salwar kameez. 
They, were obviously a couple.
 As the woman was getting out of the bus, the man held a hand out to her.They shared a meaningful look, and with a soft smile, started walking to wherever they were going .The fact that the gesture seemed so automatic was for some reason really touching. As a college student, I am exposed to copious amounts of P.D.A on an all too regular basis, But this for some reason struck me as the most romantic, sweet and charming.