Fakebook?

In this world so connected with technology,we have actually lost our real connections.Technology has actually surpassed human-interactions. Real time Conversations became texting and Feelings became status updates.What you feel? Share your views on it. 

So this is my first post for indispire , I hope to participate more often. #indispire149 has the above mentioned topic and I have decided to play Devil's advocate. ( the best type of advocate)

Disclaimer : All views are solely my opinion and all images are taken from google , I claim no rights over them.

So it boils down to this

Cliched intro and some irony 

In every century , every decade man (woman too?) has proven that he hates new change or technology. For , every innovation there is equal and strong opposition ( see how i mimicked newton there xD ) and a general sense of disdain over all things new. And that is precisely what is happening here when slightly older generations ironically go on social media and blogging platforms to state how we don't have 'real' connections anymore. 

Technology is good * blasphemy *

No change is so simplistic or negative , unless it is brought by Hitler maybe. Truth be told technology has helped us connect more than ever before. I am thousands of miles away from my family and connect with them at a moment's notice through skype. Isn't that wonderful? Yes , it is. But to admit that would mean that *gasp* technology is a GOOD thing. 

Beholder 

We all know that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder and the use or abuse of technology solely lies on the hands of the operator. Blaming oneself instead of the medium requires a lot of introspection and courage and most of us lack that. 

Exaggerations

Also known as crying over nothing

At any given point of time , a person is genuinely close to give or take 20 people? When it is face to face we avoid these other 100's of people or don't have a chance to connect with them and really doesn't impact us. However , when all of these people are on our virtual screen we get a sense that they are our 'friends' and feel disappointed when they don't respond. 

External validation

The problem is that when we post 'status' updates we want people to react , we need some sort of validation and knowledge that we are not shouting ourselves hoarse to an empty stadium. Social media and technology to a certain extent shows us how tiny we are in this world. And that doesn't feel like progress to many. 

Use to build up and not create 

But it's how we take it. If we are using Facebook solely to make new friends when we don't have any 'real' friends , it is not going to really help. There is no substitute for real human connection and organic personal experience as opposed to artificial , manufactured attempts to foster friendship. If we use sites like Facebook to build on a date or catch up with friends we already know , rest assured that it is 'real'.

Fakeness

Most of the 'fakeness' can be attributed to the forced sups? and nms uttered when one wants to be left alone and the other clearly doesn't get it. If you have your core group of friends and you regularly share updates on your life , you aren't fake you are just sharing it to wider circle who aren't used to the idea of instant sharing and sensory overload. 

Life goes on

An important point to be noted is that it is our real life relationships that impact our virtual ones. If our 'real' life is in order , I don't think we will even be complaining about our virtual ones. So people moaning about social media ruining your lives , take a deep look at the mirror and face the music. 

I also wanted to let you guys know that sometimes ( not always) you tend to lovely relationships with technology and social media too. I know a lot of bloggers and friends this way and Fakebook is not all that fake if you make an effort and you are yourself. In fact relative anonymity helps your true personality come out. The problem is the nature of the personality sometimes. So let's not blame the technology and learn to use it productively?

Thank you

Samyuktha Semi Jayaprakash

Sharikrida : A game of Political intrigue

It is not every day you get a chance to review a book before it gets officially released and I’m very pleased to announce that I got one such chance. So here comes , the first official review of the book!

Sharikrida , is a book authored by Krishna Trilok and published by Zuna Publishers. The book is set in the future where monarchy and kingdoms rule India ( now called Vehya ) again.

Btw don’t worry, this review is Spoiler Free!

The basic plot is that there are six kingdoms which rule the vehya subcontinent and the supreme ruler is chosen by a game of Sharikrida , a live action chess and strategy game. There is also a running thread about King Bharin Shah of the North fighting for justice against the evil supreme ruler Kesara Gaderia and his evil Shvagnin / Chessmaster .

As you can see , the book conjures up its own world effectively. The author has put in great effort constructing this fantastical realm so comprehensively that you want more stories from this world. Trilok should make a Trilogy!

Things which impressed me about the book especially were :-

1)      Original fantasy elements steeped in Indian mythology tapping into our rich culture

2)      The author’s English which is impeccable and beautiful. I love it that he hasn’t try to dumb down his language.

3)      The way he describes food. I had to constantly reach for snacks when he started describing lamb delicacies.

All the characters are well etched and the action set pieces were very thrilling. I felt that the book kept building its world and moving its story at an amazing pace. However , after it reached it feverish pitch and ultimate peak I felt that the sudden back story plateaued it a bit and made us think – which leads you to predict the twists.

That tiny complaint apart , this is an excellent book. I honestly think that the beginning portions were India’s answer to Game of Thrones ( a much leaner and focused version ) and the author has amazing potential to reach greater heights if he is ready to leave the safe road and start attacking ( like one of his characters said)

The book deals with governance and morality boldly and King Bharin Shah especially delivers a lot of noteworthy quotes. The implied Gender Equality in the book was beautiful to read too.

All in all , a wonderful book which you must read if you like fantasy or action or politics or thrill or just a different story. I also must say , I love the godfatheresque turn the book took and its ultimate ending. It was like there was always something up the book’s sleeve.

Loved the book!

Verdict : Read it. 4/5

You can pre order from December 22nd!

The Green coloured building

Blanket of nostalgia

Wrapped me tightly

Like a burrito

When I woke up today.

Past memories weighed me down

Go back to sleep they said

Relive those joyous days

Their glory finally acknowledged

Faces of friends

Spaces I hung out

Their authentic traces intact

Beckon me home

Ships eventually sail

Drop the anchor now and then

Thirsty for mirage

I drink salt water

It is better to revisit the green coloured building

In my head

The paths and persons more familiar and friendly

So I shut my eyes tightly.

Good night! 

Also : My juvenile post on farewell to the green coloured building is here 

It is my old school - BVM. Sometimes I get strong dreams about my school life and hope that I can relive them. I'm pretty sure I will appreciate it more this time around.

Shhh

Nothing good comes after 3 AM

The monsters are waiting just around that corner

I am losing already.

Great confusion over life goals

Nothing comes easily

The landscape where I once seamlessly stepped into

Now not really.

Hush! You are no more a little baby

A sad and helpless insomniac

Penning thoughts for solace in sleep

If only words can make you drowsy

Maybe I should do a push up

Or simply shut up my burning eyes

What about this constantly humming brain?

Maybe symptom of an everlasting pain

Make this stop please I beg

You can if you want to, says a voice from within

But isn’t that a case with everything?

The question of how might beat the question of when

And the collateral might defeat the win.

Shhh.  

Walking the Walk

I stand before 2 roads

Hoping it will lead me to my yellow brick road

Eventually leaving me at my dream destination

Only that I don’t have a dream or a destination

Let alone a way to reach the way to reach it.

Maybe life isn’t about reaching a happy place

It is about being happy whilst while we reach it.

The only way to know for sure is by walking the path and 

not forgetting to

enjoy the breath taking view.

Look straight~like the eyes of god. 

( The object of this challenge is to write a poem in no more than 10 lines. Frame of reference is 'The Cross-roads' quoted from Kwesi Brew's poem, The Mesh. For Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads)

The story

I am very pleased to announce that this post marks #150 milestone for Steady Meanderings. No , I am not the kind who keeps tracks of these things , I'm very poor at statistics. However , I am very much addicted to social media and when I checked my memories on facebook for today , it came to my knowledge that 3 years ago on the exact same day was when this blog hit 100 posts. So I just counted the posts after that and voila! It was 149 ( You may never know with me , re count to be safe. I did count like 17 times. I do remember one accounts exam where I came to the same answer 9 times and the 10^th time managed to be different {and thankfully right} )

I could be a cool blogger who doesn’t fuss about this number and move on to the topic of discussion. Let’s face the truth , I am uncool.

I did write at length about my own blog once before in this embarrassingly juvenile post. ( Clickhere ) But history needs to be updated and a I want all the new readers to know the story of this blog which has shaped my identity and experiences over the years and moulded me as a person.

No , I am not going to go on a boring tirade of acknowledgements like an award recipient. I am going to just share with you all this blog’s story.

It all began one hot afternoon in Chennai summer of 2010 when S ( I hate using so many ‘I’s so switching to 3^rd person) sat in front of her archaic personal computer. She had heard that celebrities ‘blog’ and decided to ‘blog’ . She had ‘hi5ed’ ‘orkuted’ and ‘facebooked’ so why not ‘blog’. She followed some basic steps and apparently had created her own blog. What was she going to name it?

Ok this is getting crazy , switching to first person :P

I ended up naming my blog ‘ brainwaves unlimited’ as I was a big believer in eureka moments doing all the writing for you. It had a dark background and my first post was on ‘ Mafia Wars’, a game which reflected my love for Mario Puzo and ambition to be a Don’s wife ( the things one dreams of becoming in their childhood *sigh* ) One should give me credit for not deleting my horrendous posts. It provides quality entertainment.

 I kept racking my posts which no one had a clue about , I don’t think I even knew the art of facebook sharing or promotion back then. No one knew Brainwaves Unlimited existed. So what does the budding blogger do? Create another blog of course. This one was called ‘ Perceptions’ and had a pink background. So we had one blog for my brain and another for my heart. It took a while for me to realise that splitting my work in 2 blogs was counter productive as it looked like I hardly wrote in both the blogs and views came out to be less too. So I eventually combined both to become  “ Semi’s Stories and Sharings….” I always thought "…." Made one sound serious. Didn’t hit me for a long time that sharings wasn’t an actual word. Years rolled on and people started actually reading and reacting to my posts. Initially , it was read only by my school friends and relatives. My parents proud that their otherwise dull daughter was doing something productive , sent it to their friend circles. So I would have awkward moments when I would attend weddings and I would have adults who I hardly knew come up to me and tell me nice things about my blog ( red in the cheeks and quiet happiness that parents cared enough to share , Thenks Gaiz. ) 

I took up local journalism and spamming my friend’s walls ( not timelines)  with links. My initial posts are all light hearted and anecdotal – like this post hopes to be. Then like people transition the blog also did with more serious posts aboutaccidents and failures which hit my life finding a place here. High school saw me focus on the blog only when a ‘brainwave’ hit me hard. Somehow it survived through occasional updates. This has never been an ambitious blog competing for views or advertisements but merely a space where I voice out my thoughts or display some creativity and hope to engage in discussions or receive constructive feedback. This was followed by law school which meant lesser time for my blog which really stopped being updated. When I was applying for my editorial board I realised that ‘sharings’ wasn’t a word and I needed to rename the blog to submit it. So it became a more mature and less self obsessed ‘ Steady Meanderings’.

The name change brought in a responsibility to do something meaningful with it. So the ‘dynamic views’ template which looked good but wasn’t really functional was finally altered – that took a lot of effort as complacency sets in after half a decade of blogging.

I started participating in blogger communities like ‘ poets united’ which gave the jumpstart this blog needed. I also occasionally write for zeading and have started a wordpress blog ( blasphemy) where I promote anonymous content of budding writers. 

It feels like I have come a looong way from Mafia war days. Writing for 6 years , 150 posts only when inspiration strikes is an achievement which I can’t believe I have unlocked.

At one level , I write only for myself , I am not going to change my content for anyone. But , it gives deep satisfaction to a content creator when their content gets perceived in the way it was intended to be or gives rise to varied interpretations or provokes thoughts or debates. 

I would like to thank you if you have actually read the post till the end , it means you have been a part of my journey J and random feedbacks I get in my inbox or even an anonymous comment or criticism really makes my day cz no one wants to be not heard. On that double negative note I bid you goodbye!! 

( till the next post )

Samyuktha Semi Jayaprakash

Cinema Kaaram Kaapi

I used to be a cinema paithiyiam. Used to know every Cheran movie , every random flick on K T.V and used to fill journals with my stray observations about a new film , gossip or even song lyrics. Then college happened. And I got more hooked to English T.V shows. However , this sem break I got time to catch up on tamil cinema and renew my love affair with Kollywood. And since I have my own blog now , I thought why not note my stray observations on this space.

1) The movie watching experience  :

  So a couple of days back I was poring through Baradwaj Rangan's blog on Wordpress primarily because I was bored. Also , I found the discussions under his review to be greatly informative and entertaining. Many people were attacking the critic for expressing his opinion over the film. But what else are you supposed to do as a film critic?
The movie watching experience is a very subjective one and depends on what you expect from a film. Brangan likes to watch movies which emphasise form over content , the making must be good. Most front row viewers care about their stars and how they are projected. Some people come to cinema to 'escape' reality and expect wholesome entertainment with no messages. Some people care about what a movie conveys even if the execution eg.Kaththi. And so I asked myself what do I look for in a movie?
For me the film should be engaging and there must be some care gone into it. When I sit in the theatre it should enthral me and hold my attention in some way. Organic twists are highly appreciated too :P If the movie is trying to be emotional it should go all out and stay true to its genre and not try to be reluctant attempt.
One person's mokka is another person's pokkisham :P

2) acham enbathu madamaiyada!

 I ended up watching my first Simbu film and first GVM movie in theatre ( I think) Did you know the film was originally titled to be ' sattendru marudhu vanilai'! I think that title would have been more apt for this film. While the first half of the film is a tad slow it is very natural and shows a steady romance brewing between the leads. The road portions of the movie were very picturesque , however back to back songs bore you after a point. Watch out for the picturization of Thalli Pogathey song ( getting polarising views - I liked it) The second half proceeds at a brisker pace with well staged action elements. However , the last 15 - 20 minutes of the film were utterly inorganic with the entire story , contrived and leave you very confused when you leave the movie hall. It actually ruins the decent work made by the rest of the film I feel. The audience I felt were all overloaded with random info when they walked out of the theatres. And that is why I gave such a detailed review of this film. I do not how to gauge it at all! A very decent experience till the climax and S.T.R at his natural best and A.R. Rahman god level as usual. GVM should really get new stories repeating the same plot and characters movie after movie is just sad when you have such good technical ability and execution.

3)  Kamal gautami broke up gaizzz!!

 More importantly Kamal lost his private space completely. I know even Brangelina couldn't escape it but why are people so obsessed with the personal lives of actors? Do we scrutinise the personal lives of our doctors? Maybe we should , they hold scalpels over our bodies after all. But no , we go fulla into why Kamal and Gautami. Is it because of Shruti Haasan or Gautami's daughter or Ramya Krishnan. Romba mukkiyam. And even if you read all this nonsense don't judge the actor or his brilliant work on the basis of such unverified nonsense. It doesn't make him look bad. It makes you look bad.

4)  Too much youth pa

 I don't want to sound like a paati but nowadays they make movies for the 'youth' pasanga only. While there is sudden acceptability for sci fi , thrillers and other experimental movies and the traditional action , romance being rock steady and horror of too many horror comedies , where are the Family dramas and genuine comedies? I'm pretty sure family audiences don't want to watch skimpily clad heroines and stalker boy romances and Tasmac scenes and unnecessary violence in the name of U films :P

5) Scriptu choose panrathu

While someone should start picking scripts for Vikram ( paavam he keeps wasting his talent in duds) and Surya is decidedly unlucky ( most of his movies sound good on paper) why can't the average star pick a better script or atleast ask for some kadai instead of 2 hours and 20 minutes of the same gangster/cop movie he did 2 films back? There are so many good directors in the industry now yet our star vehicles are reluctant to change.
Not everyone can be a Vijay sethupathi or Ulaganayagan and be ballsy but be a bit Vishnu Vishal atleastnu we are asking.

So what do you expect from a nalla padam?
Did you watch Aym? Ungal karuthu?
What do you think about this whole celebrity gossiping culture?
What kind of genre would you like to see in Tamil cinema?
Who did you think picks the best scripts and who need to improve?
Let's discuss xD

Devil's Paradise

So within a day of pitching the idea , I come up with my latest blog idea ' Devil's paradise' . Here , any original work which wants to get published anonymously gets a chance to be so published. I introduce to you , the first post - a fictional write up of a 11 year old authoress and her writing ethics. Please leave a feedback as the budding writers may continuing writing only on your honest feedback!https://semisharings.wordpress.com/2016/11/07/quandries-of-a-11-year-old/

Click Here

The monster

When you were a kid

You would search for me

under your bed

the same monster

is now lurking inside your head.

Count to 10

Shut your eyes tightly to no avail

I will grow my gospel

In the darkest zones of your soul

Self doubt , green eyedness and low self esteem

Are only some of the seeds I sow

Their progenies will never really let you grow

Poor you ,

think sleep is a sweet escape

You forget each time that

nightmares are my favourite landscape.

I am the evil landlord

That vanquished your brain

When did you become the benami

Against your own benefit?

My name is pessimism

Do you even remember yours? 

So Imaginary Garden with Real Toads had this topic which really piqued my interest , the real fear which lurks in the night, So this is my contribution towards the same topic.

Iraivi

They called me iraivi*

And put me up on a pedestal

Easier to throw stones

Be pushed down

They expected me to be grateful

For I was the goddess

Who ‘could’ do no wrong.

‘Should’ would have been more appropriate.

If I say yes,

I am a slut .

If I say no,

I am a bitch.

If I speak up,

I am a feminazi.

If I don’t speak ,

I am arrogant.

With eyes brimming with romantic paternalism

They revere me ,

And demand millions of sacrifices

That would befit a god.

Just treat me like a woman

I seemingly shout out with my studied silence

From atop the pedestal

Which was actually a golden cage

For the Iraivi can do no wrong

She is a goddess you fools!

Iraivi* - Tamil term for Goddess

So i wrote this during exam times and never had the time to publish it. Thought it would befit the poets united's 'pedestal' theme.  

The deep blue ocean

Sue Heck.

I have watched around 4 seasons of The Middle now and one character who fascinates me is Sue Heck. On paper , she is a stereotypical beliebing teenager who likes pink and who is what people may typically refer to as a ‘dork’. She tries out for everything and almost never makes any team. And that is what astounds everyone – Sue’s indomitable spirit. She NEVER gives up. Even when she sucks at it. Sometimes to her own detriment.

I am kind of her opposite. More like her tired Mother of three , Frankie. Frankie quits things when they get too tough. She plays out what ‘will’ happen in her head , arrives at her own foregone conclusion and quits. It is pretty sad considering that Frankie is in her mid Forties and that I have just started my Twenties.

Law school does that to you.

However , my slightly skewered to my favour contention is that , while being a Frankie is a big NO , aren’t we all really more Frankie than Sue? And what is wrong with quitting with something you are horrible at anyways?

Ok I sound lazy. Let me rephrase.

Isn’t being a Sue all the time a bit crazy and over virtuous? Knowing when to stop is  important too right? Using valuable time and resource running a cross country race which is already over by the time you have gotten up from your first mistake is just stupid. I know ‘participation is more important than winning’ and all , but sometimes smart work is better than hard work.

We are trying to be sharks in this ocean called competition but what if we are Harry Potter in his second task in the triwizard tournament without some Gillyweed? Totally useless. Is it better to drown than be equipped? Sometimes we know that we come to know that our oxygen cylinder is empty only after we jump in , we can never be pre equipped , we can’t just hope to life of pi our life away , waiting for a life jacket or divine intervention.

OR maybe that’s the difference? People with faith in a higher power tough it out in belief that they get rewarded in the end? Is this whole thing called life about that? Gritting your teeth through hurdles hoping for the light from above or any small sign?

So people who don’t believe are doomed from the beginning? So is faith going to be my gillyweed or am I just going to have to pre equipped and at my best if I am incapable of such massive trust in something I have no clue about?

What is your gillyweed gonna be?

As you can see I am more of questions than answers here. No I haven’t read many books by thinkers. I wanna reach there myself. And you are free to speculate with me in the comments column.

Home

4 walls and a door

Don’t forget the floor

That is the place I live

And not my home

Home is where the heart is

And lives

unequivocally enshrines the self

with a warm sense of belonging

No foreboding or fear

Can reach me here.

I am child once again

In this humble abode.

Raucous waves ~~

Sticky sand which won’t leave my slippers

The fresh smell of salt in the sea 

All welcome me home

How can I resist?

Filter coffee

Happy dog

Loving Grandma

That’s what makes my home

What makes yours?

If you don’t know ,

Go search, seek , build !!

If you do know ,

Visit it more often.

Treasure the warmth it gives you

Even if you live there all the time.

Especially If you live there ‘all’ the time.

(image borrowed , not the one of my dog though :P)

Hoping

Hope springs eternal they say

Only for those who bloom with sunshine

It didn’t

Give me a rope already

To hang ‘out’ with.

How can

Snaps and flashes of happy

Really compensate for this life

Which is so crappy?

Tell me really

I am trying so hard

To things not to get under my skin

Maybe a dark soul I am

For nefarious I feel

A true villain I am.

Insatiated with my genesis and growth &

Too proud to acknowledge my misery

I still give it company

I don’t want to give into this darkness

Where I seem to navigate seamlessly

When I see a happy person

I wanna dent their teeth and

Wipe that elusive smile off it

Thinking that I grit mine

And flash a fake smile and move

So what is the end you may ask?

To fit in by killing my self or

To stand out by killing myself?

Maybe it is to simply wait for a tomorrow

And hope that hope springs from within 

A dollop of darkness and a drop of sunshine.

It has been a long while my friends since I wrote anything in this space. Never has an injury to my right hand (which I have had one too many of ) affected me as much as now. I am impressed with the hunger I feel to write.

I used to be called callous, insensitive

Was never happier.

The minute I started to give a damn

The tragedy started.

The tragedy called life

Where people you used to love

Became completely different persons

So much so that

You think you wanted a disclaimer

That things could go horribly wrong!

But maybe this is the disclaimer

For the next time.

Writing all this, I look in the mirror

And see a completely different person

Than the years before.

Role reversals

Shape shifting

By the tendrils of time.

I want to be who I was

And also who I am.

A dollop of darkness and a drop of sunshine.

Aloof and caring at the same time.

How to achieve all this

When I can’t even tie my shoe laces on? 

And to my poets united friends. The post came before the motif. So the explanation maybe a bit contrived. So my take is that this piece is an appreciation of the effect of time upon our lives. 

To Srimathi

To sudden spurts of unconditional love which truly does conquer all.

You saw the before and after

Through my thick and thin

Blood

Milk and

Water

You are my little tiny tim 

You excel in liking

Every little thing I do.

But nonchalantly overlooking

The very same things too

Worrying is in your DNA

Coolness is your USP

The best mom ever to me

You will always be. 

associated  with poet's united motif for this midweek - conquest 

The First Dosa

I would like to thank all my readers - new and old - for the constant support and feedback. Steady Meanderings has gained a new lease of life because of you all. You guys are my biggest blessing! :)

Okay that sounded so cheesy and so unlike me :P

Listening to feedback is very crucial  feel and I have been getting requests to revert back to my long articles and short stories. But you see the problem is that, once you cross over to poetry which is so quaint and beautiful , prose feels cumbersome ugly and crass. If  I can make my point in 50 lovely words , why stretch it out to a 500 inconsequential ones?
What I am saying is that I used to be a story teller but now I've now become a writer. I have been giving importance to style over substance and I know that is not the best thing to happen to me. So I will try to balance both and I am committing to that by registering it here.
Since a cross over from poetry to prose is not the easiest thing ever , I'm going to try to capture the stream of conscious thoughts that's flowing through my head right now.
We all have to start somewhere right?

This post's soul feels this way

The heavy poetry hangover is palpable but please bear with me.
My mom says that the first dosa is always bad. But only if you get done with it , you can move on to better crispy ones :) and that is what this post is attempting to do. Scratch the pan before making more delicious things.

 Blessing Midweek Motif - I have become an avid participant of the poets united's midweek prompts. There is nothing more satisfying for a writer than to find a community of like minded souls sharing their work and mutual appreciation :)
The midweek motif for this week is 'blessing' and like I said in the beginning readers are my biggest blessing.

" More often than not we rarely spot the blessings we have been awarded from the almighty nature. Sometimes because we don't recognise the almighty but most times because we don't know that they are a blessing. We are too afraid to open the gift life has awarded us. Especially since life loves handing out Jackfruits. Prickly on the outside but oh so sweet on the inside. "

"Some people may have had cheap jackfruit off the road. A cursing in a blessing disguise. Wolf in sheep's clothing if you may call it. And so when the real fruit of our labour comes along we are too afraid to taste them .What a shame"  ( I had a bad experience with it when i was 8. Now i have a lifelong aversion)

" Moving away from the now overused Jackfruit metaphor , sometimes we are not aware that we possess is a blessing. Only when we lose or afraid we are going to lose it , that goddamn curse turns out to be your bestie bff blessing,"

 " If you never ever do find out your blessings from your curses , may god save you. "

No post is complete without a ruby meme :D

My convoluted message is that 

1) Spot thy blessings asap

2) Cherish them

3) Don't be a complaining mona 

4) This can be in relation to people , incidents , the seemingly shitty  sucky trick life life played on you. 

Iwilltakethisoppurtunity to Thank Srishti Swati  and Raju / Mona Darling aka Rajeshwari for being there always. If i put myself through what i put you both through , I would have unfriend AND block myself. Thank you for ending up in ILS by accident and making my life so much better ^_^

I would love to put a pic up , but fearing gaudiness I am not putting up. 

If this post nothing to you , take my peace offering :- 

 

 

Okay bye. 

Instant

Believe it or not , I cooked this up in an instant.


Instant Coffee
    Instant Noodles
        Instant Gratification
             Always seems alluring.
                  But
        when push comes to shove ,
    Honey! it tastes like crap.
   

I want to go back to that time , 

    you know the time , 

    when we had the time 

                                          

                                                                        

                                                                     To have slow dripped coffee

                                                                      handmade noodles -

                                                                      okay , never had time for those - 

                                                                    

                                                                     and slow cook our romance 

                                                                     on simmer forever

written for sunday scribbling 2  . The prompt was 'instant'. 

pic taken from google. 

Silly Billie

Here comes Silly billie*

Along the lines of my mojojojo

She was a silly billie *

My chikni Chameli ,

A wild cat to her inner core

Untamed by mere homo sapiens.

She unleashed her claws every chance she got

Scratching more than the surface of

Every person she met.

She was a silly billie

My very own chikni chameli.

Not a Soft kitty

Not a Warm kitty

And definitely more than a little ball of fur.

Cats get things done

Humans don't .

Queen of the concrete jungle

She looked down upon everyone

With a smile of smug satisfaction. 

Silly Billie

All behold and worship our very own Chikni Chameli

I miss her though.

* billie in hindi means cat

written for poets united midweek motif 'cats' 

The Predator & The Prey

So the midweek motif in Poets United was ' predator and the prey' and I couldn't ask for a more perfect opportunity to write about this .It is more prosey than poemy but i just wrote what came to my mind. Leave your honest feedback below or I will go mad that nobody cared. Putting myself out there.

credits - Times of india

I always never liked him

The guy who rode me in his auto to school.

He acted like he was my boss

Bullying and puncturing my soul.

Made me sit in the worst positions

In his overcrowded rickshaw,

On the handrest, above his seat,

Even had to share his front seat.

My parents never believed me

As I had a penchant for fabricating honestly amazing lies.

He used to hurl abuses at me,

Unnecessarily delay taking me home,

He even drank on duty.

No one ever believed me.

Then one day he started asking me for ten bucks

And pestered me incessantly

Till I gave him some.

This became a habit.

I gave up complaining to my parents altogether.

He used to make fun of me in front of others

But I wasn’t a silent victim

I learnt bad words to combat his verbal diarrhoea

I acted like I didn’t care

Got used to his bad treatment to an extent that he got bored.

He wasn’t all evil either.

He told me about his son in law who had cancer.

I saw him giving free lifts to the poor

( delaying me furthermore)

Buying tea and biscuits to the old and needy

With whatever he had.

He told me about his affair ,

About his wife.

About his life.

He treated me like an adult ,

Alarm bells should have rung then.

He started speaking to me about sex ,

I was 13 then ,

It intrigued me

But I tried blocking it out.

I always pretended to read a book.

Then one fine day ,

The predator decided to hunt its prey.

But the prey was agile like a deer

And cried out like a hyena ,

The predator was old , tired and certainly drunk

And got scared by the fragile looking one causing so much

Noise.

So it decided to act like it was all a mistake.

The prey told her parents and her parents

Finally listened this time.  

Apparently many preys don’t speak out

And become silent victims.

Parents were proud of their prey

And the prey decided to not be one

And decided to act brave.

It worked.

People believed I was strong

I believed I was

I eventually felt strong

And became so.

But those memories still hit me when I’m weak.

If only they had listened quickly.
If only I had told them earlier 
If only