Ghosts

You never changed all those years. Those shiny eyes, lopsided smile and a penchant for charm.

Fourteen (Words, Worlds and Girlhood Teenage)

What exactly have you been so afraid of? Take the steps you want, run around in the bushes, touch all the leaves you want to – you won’t be dirtying anything. You are a devotee of words; you are a dreamer of worlds. You shall only know peace when you have your dragon and the dragon wishes to keep learning different ways of expression, the shifts, the slides, and the falls and rises. Hear the air around you. Aren’t your breaths sounding more courageous than before?

Thirteen (God)

God doesn’t have any face. Or body. Or hands or legs. I don’t know why I think I see him but I do. I know I do.

Violence in a Molotov

if future were a bag on my back
the straps would melt my shoulders through
and I’d still scramble to hold it between my knees

Twelve (Under The Moonlight)

Before my eyes stopped moving, I saw a crown of flowers and bones on my soul. I presume, the flowers were for my flesh and the bones for my skeleton. After all, what we shed also becomes an inevitable part of our identity.

Canary in a Coal Mine

What does it feel like?O, canary in a coal mineThey call you fickle namesAnd run away when you die What does it feel likeTo be called a doom sign?When the smokes are too highYou have a warning to relay Canary in a coal mineDo you laugh at their fates?Those who laugh as they catch youDo […]

Eleven (The Magician)

I tell you tales of being unable to care and you tell me tales of being unable to look away. But we look at each other and care for each other. That is acceptable and allowed.

Who needs the sunshine?

(I wrote this piece inspired by a few piano pieces I was gifted by Disha amongst others. Please read this slowly.) You start walking along with the crisp wind in the city. There is no one on the streets. It’s still early in the morning and your steps are brisk. You have to reach where […]

Ten (Goddess – 12.07.2022)

If Mom were a goddess, her sculpture would be of a woman on her scooter, with a to-do list, a pen, a rolling pin, a marksheet, a cheque, a paintbrush, a pair of pliers, a novel, and her heart in eight of her hands. Her hair would be made in a bun and a helmet would be thrown on the ground to signify the irritation cause by it.

Nine (Friends)

By the time I realised I needed boundaries, I’d given away the fences in donation (lol).