Life · Love · Poems

Spring Confessions

We crossed our lonely hearts
Pulled lilies out of graves
And tore up letters into mulch
Turned old lovers into paste

I heard your drunk confessions
On a forbidden, dark porch
With little drops of blackened vodka
To lighten our glowing wounds

I taught you coffee highs
And fought wars through our single wall
You chaperoned me up the alien road
And warded men’s glares off with your charm

Over months of warm smiles, you pulled
Me out of endless steep reveries
When the sun would shine but I was caught
In webs of my own misery

You were high, I was low
We were aliens on a bed of snow
How unwanted and scantily-clad
From the elements of that long-drawn cold!

Sometimes I still dream about
What miracles the phone can do
But then I see the glacial pace
At which we seem to drift away

Now I’m simmering on a log of wood
And the riptide drafts different calls for us
And I know sometimes chapters begin again
But this is how they must all end.

This poem was not supposed to come out right now and it’s about someone who is far from my mind at this hour. Yet, it seems to have had a slightly uplifting effect on me. It swam to the surface of my brain upon a host of memories that were hurting and so I felt grateful to one of the few people who had anchored me (and been anchored by me at the same time), for those two years. We had our ups and downs, like everyone, and yet these are some of my recollections.

Life · Love · Poems

Moods of Love


The sunshine
On her waistline
Blue-grey on the ground before me
Turned the dew drop jewels invisible
Drowning in a woman’s curves
I understood how no ornament could define her
I understood why she never tried


There were two things he told her he wanted:
The cream atop the American dream
And a girl batting her eyelids, the color of milk
She whipped the yellow emulsion
And drank the liquid that remained
Tied a blindfold upon his eyes and
Told him to wait.


He took years to find me
Years when I trampled over brambles
Bare knees and untied laces in the wilderness
Whistling like the bluebird
He came out at night though
And imitated the owl’s hoot
So we met at dawn and found a glade
To practice our little bird songs


Did I tell you, your limbs
Like shoots from soil, grew straight out
Found me. Got entangled.
Pulled apart the hairy edges of my skin
I’m the torn-up remains of a troubled soul
The signs of your massacre all over me
You fled like magic, I cursed you
You found my lips, I burned you.


Would you trace the inward arcs my breasts make
When we’re kissing under a light post
When we’re kissing and people stare
When we’re kissing and someone smokes
When we’re kissing and the day is gone
When we’re kissing and it’s almost dawn
Could you tell, with each kiss
What havoc our love is
And how to tell it apart
From the one tearing the world.


Your birthday was a beautiful day
Ninety-nine candles and one, just for a joke
I wanted to say I loved the way your dark hair fell across your forehead
And I was broken without you, like one-half of a whole
I wrote the words; my poems a half-cooked treat
The eggs were plunged deep into the cake but
You cried when you saw the candles
I don’t know why they had told me once
“Women like their men with a sense of humor”.


They mocked me when I read out my first poem
I was like cold water poured on a hot rock
This sensation was new, it was horrifying
The purity evaporated in a single dry fizzle
Today I note-
A single-lined book at the foot of the bed
And simple verse
And steaming coffee
Your arms allow me to grow old fearlessly.


I don’t want to know
If there is a God in the night sky
Your simple faith crushes the soul out of me
It is cold out there in the universe, I say
We aren’t part of any great mystery
Don’t console me with nothingness
Don’t console me with anything at all
I am inconsolably lost to this universe
To this life and to all others beyond it
I hold no claim to any foreign truth
I’ll follow your footprints into the mud and from my humble hole
We can gaze at the stars-
You’ll see magical possibilities, I’ll see balls of fire
But I’m content because you will still console me
Until my hair turn grey.


The clothes lay on the floor
Like waves brought to a halt against a shore
They trembled because the distance between them
Felt unreasonable
How could one little act be so magnificent
That the universe stopped pulsating
And became a mere portrait
On the drab wall of reality
Whoever built it was a fool!
But oh, such a passionate fool.

I am over my creative standstill. I decided to welcome myself back into the folds of magic with a collection of small poems that reflect the moods of love. The hour it took to create these was a happy one. Hope you liked them!

Life · Love · Music

1989- Review

One word- Polaroids! I’m loving the 80’s vibe that this album brings.

Gone is the twangy guitar and the Southern melodies though her voice still resonates with the remnants of that Nashville girl.

I’ve been a fan of Taylor Swift’s music since she broke on the map of sixteen-year olds with classics such as Love Story and White Horse. At the edges of my adolescence, there was Fearless, Teardrops on My Guitar, Dear John, Enchanted, Back to December. And then, at twenty (her twenty-two), she brought out Red which was full of crooning ballads and bitter confessionals- All to Well, Everything has Changed, Red, Come Back…Be Here, Treacherous, I Knew You Were Trouble, 22, The Last Time (And Never Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever, much to my horror).

Associating yourself to Taylor has seemed to mean being a die-hard romantic and giving your soul up to the devil because she’s thought to be too girly, too childish, too immature.

But they beat the princess-y fairy tales out of you, replace it with the kind of philosophy where you put up walls and turn guarded, sober, broken. And then they tell you you have grown up.

After shrieking Shake it Off from the rooftops- a license to BE yourself, Out of the Woods was a darkly upbeat song about a relationship falling apart even though “the monsters turned out to be just trees”. The sound is different but the voice is the same.

I was setting myself up for disappointment by this point. Songs like Welcome to New York and new Romantics just look like well-poised publicity stunts but like always, there is some beautiful music in the folds of 1989.

Why I am talking about this album though is because it has a sort of welcome-to-your-mid-twenties and to the grown-ups version of everything on the planet feels for me. This is really about growing up in a pop culture, with all its superficiality intact inside you and yet being in a conflict with yourself every minute along the way.

Granted that I heard Wildest Dreams (“Say you’ll remember me/Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sun set babe/ Red lips and rosy cheeks/Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams”) and for a moment wasn’t sure whether I was listening to Taylor Swift or Lana del Ray. And that Bad Blood is just a song about two girls whose friendship runs into a rut (the only song I cannot bear on this album). And that I Know Places seems to remind people of a Hunger Games- Lorde mash. But there are hidden gems here and the lyrics are haunting too.

In ‘Clean’, Taylor croons some of her most mature lines yet:

10 months sober, I must admit Just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it 10 months older I won’t give in Now that I’m clean I’m never gonna risk it The drought was the very worst When the flowers that we’d grown together died of thirst

This song is purgative and cleansing, much like Kelly Clarkson’s Sober or Hilary Duff’s ‘Come Clean’ which has a similar undercurrent, but it has a tone of regret at growing out of dreams and into the real world. ‘Blank Space’ is like a mockery at the world of flashing cameras and gossip columns.

Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane ‘Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

You can’t be sure how much she alternates between sarcasm and truthful declarations in this song but when she sings, ‘So it’s gonna be forever or its gonna go down in flames’, you catch another glimpse of being a grown-up.

Another song about rushing romance under the eyes of the whole world is I Know Places. ‘Something happens when everybody finds out..Love’s a fragile little flame it can burn out.’ and ‘They are the hunters, we are the foxes’.

I love ‘All You Had to do was Stay’ (“People like you always want back the love they gave away/And people like me wanna believe you when you say you’ve changed”) and ‘This Love’ (“When you’re young, you just to run But you come back to what you need”), ‘Style’ falls a little behind with the ‘James Dean day-dream look in your eyes’.

There’s inventiveness here. Some room for wishful thinking and growth is always left of course. But between all the PR managing and careful product placement that ensures commercial success, I somehow always find a part of my voice with Taylor Swift and her girl-next-door-this-could-totally-be-happening-to-you music, my one and only self-admitted, mainstream country-turned-pop obsession.

Love · Poems

Little Infinity

I’m not quite sure how I got here
All paths look the same
Did I walk in while you were changing skins
Interrupted your transformation with
A simple smile? An uncertain hi?

And it is suddenly as if I never knew
A time that existed apart from you
I have only these snippets of memories
Of life before you consumed me
Stranger from across the universe
And now I fill my diary with words
Hoping to bewitch my own little self
Into thinking I can be fine all alone

I’m not quite sure how I got here
Did you lead me in, Pied Piper?
How is it that in a world full of people
Each one more engaging than the other
You hold my attention so hypnotically
Transforming me from just another plain girl
Into stuff made of fairy tales?

My instinct is to take a dark flight
Far away from everyone, from everything
Cradled like a baby, held here by a strange comfort
Undefined, except in the deep reaches of my mind
I stay. Because I cannot fight this.
I become a tiny angel- the engine of my own demise
We are blowing smoke circles of SOS into the air
But on the surface we are a pretty sight

I’m not quite sure  how I got here
Or how I am supposed to return
I’m like a moon caught in orbit around you
I’m internally on fire and it’s beautiful
In the heat and light of this event, we are
Strangers from across the universe
And yet from all the people that I’ve ever known
You. This. Right here. It is
My own little infinity.

Love · Poems


You have darkened my blood
It’s strange and sort of lucky
For me to open my soul
I had forgotten what it felt like

These sweet, sad kisses
They swim against my body
I’m turning over with something
Intensely personal.

I can only love completely
Or not love at all
No longer intoxicated
I’m leaning

Leaning against your will
Against your heart
Against that open space between us
Against thin-aired ecstasy

Against the fuzzy, dreamy place
Where magic starts
Against that tiny pulsating light
I see projecting out of you

And I don’t want to lean anymore
It just wouldn’t be me
But I don’t know how to be
Anything else but this.

Love · Poems

The Big, Big World and You.

I look at the big, big world
From my tiny little window
Dream of following the stars
To some place where I
Wouldn’t have to hide

I am all quiet today, kid
Thinking of everything you
Have meant to me in
These last few years and how
Impossible it seems that I
Might have to give it all up

It is not even a question of right and wrong
You see I have lost all grip of reality
In the throws of this enormous pain
All I see is your hand holding mine
Calling me out so gently

So I look at the big, big world
And I don’t see the pinpricks of light guiding me
All I can think of is how wonderful
It can seem when you are with me
If I must struggle, why does it
Have to be alone. So far away.

I am pensive and lost, kid
No answers come whispering to me
I cannot live with you like this
And I cannot imagine what my life would be
If I were to set you free

I look at the big, big world
And it completely intimidates me
Washed pale underneath all my fears
I will dream of you forever, kiddo
But I don’t know if you can save me

Life · Love

I Just Need to Write

I am screaming alone, all by myself in the dark. Wondering what the hell am I doing back in this place which I thought I had left forever long ago. As it turns out, some places cannot be left. Some people ask me why I am so dark. So blue. They wonder how someone so drab and dull can ever do anything exciting. But I can. I am hovering inches above reality. My feet touch solid ground sometimes but I’m not even sure whether that surface is real or just another hallucination.

So the reason why I am drab is because it is countered by something on the inside. Something so exquisitely sensitive, it will die in the light. I only have two states of being: I will either feel everything or I will feel nothing.

I have been called every name in the book. I have felt the kind of emotions that made me want to go and live in a cave until I decided to collide with them headlong.

What am I now?

I don’t know. But I cannot run from myself anymore. I have been dumped at the very golden gates that I was afraid to open.

And on the other side? I have no clue what will be there. But then I try to think of the time before now. Did I have any clue, anyway? No. I was always just walking like a zombie through life. It is impossible to be anyone else.

And so I was laughing when I should have been crying and in a parallel reality when I should have been on the floor. I am scarred, I realized, more than I knew before. Once I was sure of that, once I had accepted that, the rest was easy.

After that there was no need to run and hide anymore. I could accept myself. Maybe even forgive myself. I wonder why people seem so surprised at my reactions to things. But they don’t know that I don’t feel the things that I should feel. I feel the things I shouldn’t feel, instead.

There is a reason they say, that old people are set in their ways. They have been that way for so long. What do I want to be when I am old? I guess I get to deal myself one card. I think I already dealt it long back and it changed the course of everything. Whatever has been happening since has been a shout in the void.

Which brings me back to the fact that I am alone in the dark, with nothing and nobody. I am clueless in so many ways. I am fearless in so many others. At the crux of the matter is the damning realization that nobody cares. The day I reach the Zen-like state of no expectations? That shall be the day I shall feel liberated. It isn’t going to come. Not to someone like me. But I have learnt to not let the universe make promises to me. It has no reason to keep them. It wouldn’t care if it obliterated just another blob of reproducing cells. Why on earth would that change the course of anything?

There is no reason to anything. Not to the events that make my life a ‘life’, nor to the changes that make me continuously question, falter, alter, metamorphose. So for what am I turning in my grave? For nothing. I have been and I shall be alone. I don’t want to.

The next step is to heal- to erase the emotions that are an impediment in the way of that. Everything from hate to love, from love to lust (as crooned Ed Sheeran). But for how long can I be okay without these? Forever seems like too short a time right now.

And then, most importantly, I must face people. People who think they know best. Who might not think that way but their well-intentioned gestures and conversations can become torturous. How am I supposed to pull myself through that?

I can only ask myself one question. Have I the power to forgive myself and everyone who has ever hurt me? The answer to this has been yes for a very long time. I don’t know whether this makes me stronger or weaker.

I don’t want to meet people. I don’t want my premises questioned. I don’t know right from wrong. I just know something changed and it will never be the same. I hope I am able to maintain this objectivity throughout the rest of it.

books · Fiction · Love · Movies

The Fault in Our Stars

A story about two teenage cancer patients battling questions of life and death in their own different ways and then they fall in love. I know it sounds like a soppy drama with the cheesiest of lines- the kinds of movies that make PMSing women cry into their handkerchiefs on the couch on a Saturday evening.

But it’s not.

So I had been avoiding the idea of this book (or movie) for a while now. Because I just don’t do sentimental-cry-all-night movies. It’s just not me anymore.

But some amount of moody bitterness kicked in yesterday and I thought, hey. Why not do something crazy?

Crazy for me, apparently, is now reduced to watching self-proclaimed love stories as movies, breaking the book-lovers book-before-the-movies-always rule, and after-hours at that.


But but but.

This wasn’t just a love story. It wasn’t about jittery, heart-fluttering, unattainable demi-Greek-God-like men with chiseled chests and dreamy eyes and gorgeous, chic women with hour-glass figures.

This was simply about two kids who are dealt a bad hand and they don’t know what to do with it. Except that perhaps they do.

While he struggles with an amputated leg and goes around looking for something heroic to achieve, with an unlit cigarette between his lips to show the world how he is playing with death but not giving death the chance to ever play with him, she carries around and rereads the same book about what dying would feel like and believes that everything is probably pointless and the only meaning we derive from life is temporary.

“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

What strikes me is how, when I have been pondering over the same questions, this movie provided a different way of looking at something I’ve known. Yes, we’re given to mortality and it hangs like a doom over our heads. Yes, it won’t be long before we are dust. But in the meantime, we cannot suspend the little things we do. We do them because we do them. And we have to keep doing them because to stop would mean the same now as it would when our bodies naturally collapse- either way, it makes no difference. So perhaps the only thing to look for is that elusive bitch- happiness and to feel everything we ever can, while we can.

“There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.”

There is nothing else to be said. Watch or read this story because it will touch you. And we need more things to do that.

Of course, it helps that the movie includes a trip to the Anne Frank Memorial.

Life · Love

Lesson Learnt?

You asked me to pick my battles-
Reserved strength- you called it
What a refreshing lesson
I only take from this
Experience- a song
A far cry from everything I
Have ever known
I can’t hide forever
But I can try

You said you’d guide me
Whilst I traverse
This maze
This rat race
Of flitting, emotional experiences
Magic absorbs you
But it slips through my fingers
And I wonder if
You wrote a travel guide called Life

I wish you had though
When I see you slip and slide
And I see my mighty efforts
At self-comfort sucked into
An abyss
I wonder if you could save me
If need be
Or can I save you?

Life · Love · philosophical · Poems


Broke free on the understanding that
Everything on this page of dusky memories
Was just reduced to a single line of unfathomable melody
Tangled, broken, tragic.
Crisp but uninspiring

Lived life on the terms that
Everything felt was a misunderstanding from which arose
A tale of adulterated emotions caught in a ring of fire
Woeful, lustful, heart-breaking
Harmonious but not synchronized

Understood love from the derivation that
This tangential exchange was like an ill-fitting jigsaw
A broken recorder that still lets you make out all the words
Chaotic, unapproved, temperamental
Ethereal but absolute

Saw death as the welcomed sigh of a sufferer’s salvation
Like the utterance of a syllable’s worth of betrayal
Would cause the earth to shatter underneath a torrent
Irrelevant, mysterious, self-sustaining
Hardening  but ultimately evanescent