Who finds amusement in the little things,
Who has a go-to smile,
Who tilts her head to a certain, specific angle for most photographs,
Who is otherwise eager to hear all about how her closest friends and family are doing,
Who checks notifications on her phone like it’s the buzzer round of the Bournvita Quiz Contest,
Who has dramatic responses,
Who laughs funny and, very often, timed inappropriately
Feeling disconnected feels unfamiliar.
Is it the pandemic?
Is it adulting?
Is it time to talk to someone?
Maybe, it’s unfamiliar comfort.
We struggle to behave,
In a time so grave;
Love and kindness we crave…
A smile, a hug and a wish to sit all by ourselves in a cave,
A cup of coffee, good company and an evening with people exuding warmth,
is what I think of while taking off the table cloth;
Sitting around like the sloth,
How much longer must we endure this wrath?
‘To each his own’, one might believe
Easy or laboured, one’s bound to become prey-
The many desires, the many luxuries, the many possibilities;
‘To each his own’, one might say
Sooner or later, one’s bound to stray-
In speech, thought or action;
‘To each his own’, one might realise
Always or never, one’s bound to expect-
To be heard, loved or self-actualise
“Sugar, spice and everything nice”,
I wonder who came up with these words so wise-
While I stare at the waves rise,
I can tell we’ll all have to pay a heavy price;
Starry skies or a spectacular sunrise,
We fail to realise
Goals and ambitions we chase,
Without time to break out of the rat race;
We barely know how to react to praise,
And in poker we seldom raise;
We should learn to embrace,
Our flaws and the entire human race.
Lower your expectations
What does one do when-
The one who hurts you
Doesn’t realise the pain they’ve caused you
Little do they understand
The craving, the despair, the sense of longing in their absence…
I felt it all today.
Every single moment without you felt like a gaping wound,
I almost thought I lost you until we finally reunited
What would I do without you?
I write today, about a person very dear to me,
It almost fills me with a sense of responsibility.
Sometimes I wonder, you are born to certain people, but feel even more connected to certain others,
For me, it’s been my enate grandmother.
Whether in the kitchen or in her unwavering faith towards the Almighty,
I’ve seen her act with utmost dedication.
She would make us the perfect jams, fruit juices, desserts during our summers holidays,
We would almost start sulking at the thought of our regular school days.
Born to a prolific figure in the world of music,
Opinions, opinions everywhere,
I wonder though how many fair?
Wonder who decides who is right,
Is their own future shiningly bright?
On the roads, there isn’t a single person in sight,
Each time one steps out, the cops show off their might;
Consigned to our homes we all are,
With little hope of going very far;
Each day I do the chores, there’s a muscle tear,
Cribbing, wailing and sobbing, I sit on the chair;
Waiting, waiting and some more waiting they say,
The calendar dates moving further away;
This time, they say is for looking inward and contemplation,
My most favourite time of the day is tea (Chai) time. There are essentially two tea drinking sessions in the day — few cups in the morning and about two cups in the evening.
Tea drinking, to some is about routine, to some others is about the flavour, to some about spending time with family and to a few others it is about solitary time. To me, this time in the morning is associated with a time of solitude and being “socially distant”(haha!). …