Weddings

A parody poem on the typical wedding scene in India

Venue

It was once a palace they say,

So we gave our guests a three night stay.

The décor was sculpted from literal ice,

Was it extravagant and grandiose?

Enough to make people stare and marvel twice.

And did it cost a heavy price?

Well, safe to say, now our bank balance doesn’t feel so nice

Date

A suitable date needs to be decided

So we consult an astrologer and are guided

by planets and stars that float light years away.

Turns out, the only auspicious day is a Tuesday

But then guests can’t make it to the three night stay

So Pay an extra 100, the astrologer says

And the stars will ensure the weekend becomes your wedding day

Itinerary

The baarat arrives after an hour of delay

Presenting a 50 minute dance sequence in front of the hotel gateway

With pomp and show the ceremonies commence

Busy with the buffet, guests gaze at the proceedings

with interest that is pretense.

Then the bride and groom sit on throne like chairs

Acting as a selfie booth for dolled up relatives that come in pairs.

Smiles are feigned

And the couple is chained

by societal expectations

that strain their marital unification.

published at @inksword.magazine on Instagram

© @_theponderingkitten_

Celestial

I once saw a celestial being

Standing on the edge of a cliff

As if looking over the world, seeing

Reveling in what mortals have made of it .

And he seemed to carry a great sorrow

shoulders hunched and posture stiff.

With his back towards me, I could see the divine wings

white as snow, shimmering under the sun

they were adorned with gold, like robes of a king

but drooped like a peasant’s head in court

aligning with the angle of his head,

bent in deep resolution.

A split second,

And he moved.

Wings outstretched to their full glory,

Back straightened into a n alert stance

And his head turned towards me.

Captivated, I froze under the glance

of his eyes that were like molten gold orbs

with a midas’ touch of their own.

His heavenly gaze flicked away as if in guilt

While mine lingered and swept over that crystal face,

The slope of his nose, angles of his cheek

And the slant of his mouth,

All dripping with such divine grace

I wish I could have lived longer in that moment

Paused time for all of eternity

but alas it could only become my last memory

after all,

the angle of death had come to see me.

He spoke with a mournful voice

it’s a curse, I’m sorry you saw me

a tear ran down his face

as my soul left my flesh

and I thought to myself

there couldn’t have been a better

end to my story

than dying at the mercy

of witnessing such lethal beauty.

beauty.

Photo Edit by @dangitkhushi on instagram

The final year student rant

Something to know about me-

I am in my final year of school (that’s 12th grade in India). We have a system of ‘board exams’.

The thing about board exams is they seem to go on for a decade because of how much importance is put on them ever since high school (9th grade onwards) starts.

And there’s a whole other discussion about how they are not the only definable criteria even though it is literally what everyone talks about and the entire schooling leads upto this final exam.

BUT

This rant is not about to discuss that.

I am currently in the prep zone as I like to call it. There’s like 3 weeks to my first final exam and I am 100% a stress blob and it has been a little over a month since I posted something on my blog or really did any passionate writing. A few scribbles here and there, sure but I haven’t got around to making them even remotely comprehensive.

It’s not even that I am studying day and night, I am just floating on this grey cloud surrounded by just space. A void. And I just can’t do anything.

My mind has this odd sensation, like something is missing, which now that I think maybe was writing something or reading a novel.

See these two things are so central to my existence that my entire system felt a bolt was missing or something.

Sure watching a fantastic movie sometimes works as a substitute but I can’t do that all the time either, you know boards and all.So I guess this rant is nothing but me trying to let some things out and just write my thoughts out.

Afterall, the kitten can. ponder only for so long and not express it somewhere before feeling like her mind exploded.

Anyway, that’s about it. Here’s to hoping and working for a good final exam season (aka boards).

Best of luck to any other 12th graders reading this ( I feel you bro)

A New Year’s Eve

It’s half past 11 now and the night is younger than it has ever been  in the past 364 days. There’s a light buzz in the atmosphere as if someone has sprinked electric energy ino the air . It is coupled with a whiff of anticipation and an inexplicable excitement that seems to be flowing through everyone’s veins.

There’s a couple of them flailing their limbs around in an elaborate sequence, dabcing is what they call it. They look ridiculous but indefintely happy.
A few seem to be playing a game of who can hug the most people before 12am. No one seems to be complaining even though those are sloppy displays of affection.

And I am leaning against an isolated corner, it’s  a good vantage point to observe, not so much if you want to participate in the celebrations.

My job  is to observe.

It’s a fascinating sight, all these people looking forward to the next 15 minutes as if it is a completely new begining when in reality half of them will be too hungover to get out of bed till noon.

I mean sure it can be an utterly new begining but they don’t know this, humans can’t reset themselves.

There’s a ringing sound just then, only audible to my ears.
It’s a call from the mothership,
‘shall we initiate memory reset?’

‘No. They don’t need it.
What these intriguing creatures do need are their experiences, good and bad. They seem to carry hope for a better tommorrow even though most seemed to be morbid about 2017.
Let’s leave these complex beings  to survive at their own devices.’

For now.

___________________________

A/N 

🌺HAPPY 2018 EVERYONE🌺

An epiphany

She, I think ​                                       A big nose, chubby cheeks,too small a mouth, pretty eyes.

She, I think
Constant tapping of the fingers, doodles here and there. Silence surrounds but the mind is too loud with pondering.

She, I think
Clumsy and awkward,
unapologetic and candid
Perhaps not always

She, I think
Bold in showering compliments
Bashful in being its reciever

She, I think
An anxious achiever armed with an average skill set

She, I think
Scared and Struggling to experiment

She, I think
Treads up a rocky terrain, hesitant to play in the rain

She, I think
Miles to travel to reach her full potential

She, I think
Needs to jump over those inhibitions,  quit being in vexation

She, I think
Once tasted the blithesome state of being  true to herself

She, I think
Needs to relocate the sparkle, needs to relocate herself

She, I think
Will grab the damn reins again and whisk away, for it’s been too long a tedious break

She, I think
Started this epiphany because of her friend

She, I think
As I think about myself.

A cry for help

The days seemed to be passing away in an inexplicable haze. 

An incessant pounding in my head, as I try to navigate through this maze.

This ominous maze, filled with anxiety oozing out of long buried insecurities.

Why now, after all this time spent building myself so many  safe cities.

Cities of confidence, cities of happiness, cities of determination.

All damaged inside me, left behind this havoc-a broken nation.
My vision is blinded by my flaws

This hollow feeling holding onto me  with its claws.

Sunken eyes, frowning lips

A pallor resembling an eclipse.
What is going on ? 

This isn’t me

Lost and tired is all I feel

A cry for help it might be, 

When all a person wants is to drown in a sea.
All that’s needed is a friend who will hear,

And ease the process to mend one’s tear.

// The girl who loves to write, 

Seems to have lost her might.

All she seems to await is the night.

For the darkness  blends in with her pitiful sight. //

L’Hanté

8am, it’s a bright sunny day
4 friends pile into a car,
Filled with radiance , their spirits are anything but gray.

3 pm, a scorchingly hot wave
4 friends pile out of a car
Weary and tired, they look for a temporary cave

Crest upon a low hill,
‘Malum’ -the dusty sign read
4 friends enter into an eerie old inn
They venture in, oblivious to the forthcoming downhill.

4pm, a grumbling noise
hungry and parched
one goes to the kitchen, unaware, unarmed.

4:30 pm, an earsplitting scream
3 friends, horrified, stood agape
Wide eyes set upon the gruesome bloodstream.

6pm, a thunderous downpour
3 friends, frightened and despaired, mourn the deceased
Fearfully contemplating what lurked furthermore.

7pm, a setting sun
One lay alone in bed, passed out of exhaustion and fear
If they were awake, would they have had time to run ?


8pm, a sinister silence
2 friends, turn pale realising loss of another companion.
Petrified, they hurry to escape the recurring malevolence.

10pm, an unending path
2 friends, disgruntled do not notice the repeating willows.
A loud crash, a painful cry.
Their trip ends in a ghastly bloodbath.

12 am, a demonic primeval
Cackling  inside ‘Malum’
A hotel that literally means evil

 

Inner Demons

Joyful,vivacious,amicable 

that was her facade,

of pessimism she wasn’t capable

 that was the exterior she  made. 

Her family and friends never knew,

 Of the battles in her mind. 

Within her the secrets grew, 

her thoughts were never kind. 

3 am, wide awake.

Lying lifeless on her bed. 

Seldom her body would shake 

And mind would fill with dread. 

She gave up, couldn’t bear, 

the hatred for her own reflection. 

Exhaling the last breath of air, 

she slipped into endless meditation.

________________________________

        ~An old 2 am scribble~

Anchor

In a world that never stops, I often find myself struggling to keep up. Frustration clawing at my mind and heart, I find myself in an incomprehensible haze.

But in such situations what keeps me going is your ever grounding presence.

You sense that I’m upset, you understand that I don’t want to talk at the moment. All you do is let me lay my head on your lap. I close my eyes, lose myself in the gentle caress of your fingers and serene melody of your voice falling on my ears. I feel at ease.

Was it a long day, you ask me. I respond with a feeble nod and fall into the familiar warmth of your arms. The feel like home. The sensation of your palm rubbing my back with utmost tenderness lulls me to a soundless sleep and I feel at ease.

Fear spreads through my body, seldom I panic. Seldom I’m afraid of what’s to come,my fingers tremble out of anxiety. But your hand finds mine, clasping around it in a strong yet careful hold. You sit behind me, my back against you, supporting me and I feel at ease.

Waking up from a restless sleep I feel a weight around my waist. It’s your arm wrapped around me protectively as if all you want to do is shield me from the nightmares. Tracing along the length of your arm I feel you shifting. You are awake, I turn around and look into your eyes. They shine with unconditional love and it matches the soft curve of your smile.

In that moment I knew you were my anchor and I felt at ease

_________________________________

Shades of Life

No canvas is complete without blotches of black and grey, if anything the contrast enhances the brighter colors

Grey

It’s like lying on your bed at 2am, trying to fall asleep.
But failing as the voices in your head wouldn’t stop.

It’s like gazing out of a window, unfocused hazy eyes, too exhausted and now blank,
Bereft of any emotion.

It’s like a paralytic state,
unable to move your limbs.
Unable to process any thought.
Unable to feel anything.

Black

It’s the call that beckons you towards darkness.
A propelling force, pushing you towards the cliff.
You jump off because in the dark you don’t see the thorns below.

It’s the smile on your face when you impale yourself with the sharpness below.
It feels good to replace a pained soul with a pained body.
Much easier, or so it seems.

It’s the state of inability,
Inability to awaken the zest for life.

//

We paint around the black and grey lines of our lives, we splash brights spots all across the canvas and form a master piece.

Orange

It’s the caress of a warm hand as if sunshine illuminating your face.
It’s the gentle embrace of the one you love as if the winds embracing your waist.

It’s holding on to family and friends, for they are the sun when the sky seems grey.

Pink

It’s the laugh of a small child, filled with unadulterated glee.
It’s like winning at a carnival game.
It’s the delight in one’s eyes as they eat their favourite cookie.

It’s happiness in its simplest forms.

Red

It’s the passion in strokes of a painting,so bright
It’s the passion in words of a poetry,so moving
It’s the passion in dance movements, so strong.

It’s the passion that urges us to live life to the fullest, embrace love without hesitance.

White

It’s enlightenmemt, finding yourself amongst the chaos.
It’s peace, with the need to reform oneself.
It’s acceptance, of flaws within you.
It’s determination, to be better.

It’s purity,
Because it’s loving self and the potential to be the best version of oneself.