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Friday 17 May 2013

Femme Fatale


Give me your heart
So I can break it in two
One I’ll keep
The other is for you

I’m not evil baby
I just want you for myself
I won’t let you escape
I won’t let you cry for help

Come with me alone
I’ll close the door behind me
I’m all you’ve got
And I’m all you need

I’ll be good to you, I promise
But don’t you break my heart
Or you’ll be the target
And I’ll be the dart

No, don’t crush my dreams,
That won’t be good for you
You see this knife here?
I’d hate to see it cut through you

I’m not evil baby
I just love you so
Make me your best friend
Or I’ll be your worst foe

Just do as I say baby
And there’ll be no love lost
Don’t you underestimate
My power to play God 

I’m not evil baby
I know you have a voice
I respect your decisions
But you don’t have a choice

I just want your love
I don’t like bloodshed
But if you don’t love me back,
Be prepared to be dead




Thursday 16 May 2013

Mirror

My mirror told me that I'm imperfect
Every time I stood in front of it
But then I realized
It wasn't the mirror
It was me.



Tuesday 14 May 2013

The Beautiful People

They belonged to the sky
Those free-spirited souls
They deserved to soar high
Strong, brave and bold

Yet here they are
The beautiful, belittled
Broken wings hold them down
The light in their souls
Slowly fading out

Their stories, left incomplete
They languish alone
In their altered reality
Dreams ground to dust
Like their once beautiful wings

Spirits of the sky
Who deserved to soar high
Wings, strong as steel
Hearts, pure as gold
Battered and bruised,
They fell,
Their perfection ruined

Beautiful souls, they are said to be
Trapped in their imperfect bodies
Or are they
Beautiful souls
Trapped in this imperfect world





A Writer's Block... Why do I write?

What's the most difficult thing a writer has to deal with? Starting a book? Maybe. Completing a book? Kind of. Editing it? Not really. No, none of these is a match to that one thing all writers inevitably suffer from at some point of their life. Oh yes, it's that dreaded thing called a writer's block. It's like an unwanted guest. It comes uninvited and you won't know how long it's here to stay. Its more frustrating than a nosy relative, and it's more unfair than having to work on a holiday. Yet, its like the flu. You have to have it at some point in your life.

Oh, the annoyance of having a writer's block! One minute your head is buzzing with ideas... So much that you cannot decide what to take down. Vivid and elaborate thoughts swim tantalizingly on the surface of your head, urging you to attend to them. And then the next moment, *blank* nothing. You don't know what happened. But your head is empty now. Hollow words float aimlessly. Lone thoughts drift across without a direction. But there is no 'Voila'! The Voila that's responsible for binding and merging these thoughts and words into a beautiful piece of writing. Then you have a choice. You either fry your brain till it comes up with some respectable writing; or you just... wait. Wait for the phase to go away.

But what is the compulsion for writers to write? Maybe because it's their bread and butter, or maybe because it's their passion. For some, it maybe the fame and the money, while for others it's about the appreciation.

For me, writing is about inspiration. The greatest appreciation for my writing would be when it inspires others. The greatest reward for it would be when it inspires me. 
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Says Maya Angelou. But you know what's worse? It's when you want to express something, but the right words fail you. Those powerful expressions capable of translating your exact feelings elude you. It's when you are not able to deliver an idea in the right words; and delivering it in any words less than perfect is an insult to the idea.

Yet, the beauty of writing is in what it creates. Sometimes, writing can help you overcome a writer's block, by writing about a writer's block. Or at least, deal with it. And that is just what I did. Writing this post may not have done justice to what I intended. But it made me overcome my unwillingness and reluctance to write while going through a writer's block. And that, is nothing but inspiration to me.

Sometimes, writing cures its own predicaments. 

And this, ladies and gentlemen,
is why I write.













Sunday 12 May 2013

Sleeping with the enemy

I wrote this poem for a poetry competition where it won the first place. The topic of the poem is Marital Rape and is one of the subjects that is close to my heart. Sadly, in India, Marital Rape is still not considered to be a crime because of the strain it will supposedly cause to the system of 'marriage'. In fact, girls are advised to be married off to their rapists if they are raped before their marriage, as this system is considered so sacred that it even legitimizes the very act of Rape! 



This is the story of her,
She who walks amongst us,
She looks seemingly normal,
You don’t suspect anything’s wrong with her

But just give her another look,
She is more than your neighbour’s cook
She is unusually thin and frail,
Burned and bruised, her skin cold and pale
Her eyes are hollow, blank and void
Yet if you gaze a little closely, they look sad and recoiled.

Her soft sobs and weeps
Recount stories of those untold horrors and griefs
That await her at her own house,
In the form of her drunk, abusive and sadistic spouse

Every night she shudders
At the thought of going back home
Where night after night
She relives the worst nightmares of her life
It’s a terrifying thought she can’t shake
That this isn’t a dream from which she can wake
No means to run, no routes to escape

This is the story of her,
It may sound clichéd
Born in poverty, a burden on everyone’s head
What is her fault?
That she is a girl?
Or merely the fact that she was even born?

Disposed of by her parents
In a deal they called her “marriage”
Cursed to spend the rest of her life
Being abused and disparaged

Sleeping with the enemy
Night after night,
The torture and pain he inflicts on her
Gets drowned away in her cries

Nobody to help her;
It’s her duty after all,
To bear all the agony without a complaint
Because her husband is supposed to be her God

As the nation today fights tooth and nail
Protesting against the rape of all those unfortunate victims
Here she stands; this woman too
She has gone through the worst, and continues going through
She suffers no less than any other Nirbhaya, Damini or Gudiya*
Her anguish never ends,
Damned in a fate worse than death

Battered and worn,
She lights a candle too
She prays for the victim,
And for her own misfortune

Her fault was being born,
Born in a land
Where her femininity is not welcome
Where marriage is considered so sacred,
That it even legitimizes rape!




To read more about Marital Rape Laws in India, please read:


*Nirbhaya, Damini and Gudiya were the symbolic names given to the recent Rape Victims in India.







A New Dream Begins


Here I was yesterday,
But a tender caterpillar
Secure in the cocoon of my dreams
Small and insignificant
What change could I have made?

I opened my eyes today
And I see what I am now
A beautiful butterfly
Shy and Hesitant
Will I be able to fly?

These wings are fragile
Will they stand the weight of my doubt?
Painted with colours
Of hope and aspirations
Ready to take me to the world
They spread out

Slowly and carefully
I’m beginning to trust my wings
Opening my eyes to the brilliant sky
Oh I know once I learn to fly
It’ll give me a different kind of high

Slowly and carefully
I’m beginning to trust my wings
Take a step forward
As a new dream begins