Genie

 Do you hear the people sing?

Yes?

The more i hear

The less i feel. 

I keep rubbing

A phantom gland

Maybe muscle memory

Its no aladdin's lamp

All i feel is sore

Crying for once more. 

Maybe its not a portal 

But a wound 

we have overcome

Maybe now its time

To stop hearing 

And start listening

Begin once again. 

A grown up baby 

is not grotesque

Its just groot. 

So

Inhale the music

The scent of today!

Get goosebumps

Heck! Even enid blyton

Lets catch smugglers in

Mysterious moors

Please just hold that magnifying glass

Very tight 

On the famous five senses

You will be born again

And this time you will dance. 

Written for the what's going on? challenge

And PU prompt of beginning again and again.

Nimbu paani

 

What does April mean to me?

To start at the beginning

A bit cliché

Summer Holidays!

Gully Cricket and lemon juice

Life didn’t give us lemons back then

Only lemon juice

And boy how we drank it!

Not a care in the world

Sticky mess all over

once white shirts and

Broken beach castles and sand filled shoes

You should also know that

April in Chennai was a month of heat

A month to quite literally sink in your teeth

And grab a juicy bite of watermelon or mango

That’s how life tasted like.

 

April is also the month

When I stumbled upon writing

26^th April 2010

A blog was born.

I felt the joy of creating something

My digital Disneyland

Every post a joyride

Traversing as per my thoughts.

 

April later still remains a month of joy

Albeit filled with chaos.

A period of gold rush

Before the courts close for may .

I still experience summer holidays

Albeit mixed with the beginning of the new financial year.

 

April has now made a full circle.

The month I again established something

Which will hopefully remain immortal

Like this blog.

My new law firm

Saaki Legal estd 15.04.2024

A watermelon or mango of love, labour and joy!

 

Nimbu Paani means lemonade/ lemon water in Hindi. 

Inspired by PU's weekly prompt 'April' 

Been a while but now you know why. Will post and visit you all more henceforth!

 

Wanderlust

Once upon a time

Being a wanderlust

Was seen as a mental disorder

By flat earthers

(irony duly noted)

 

Then we had the likes of Columbus

Find his ‘India’

And kill a lot many Indians

In the inane name of ‘colonialisation’

And killed many a civilisation

In the name of observation.

(irony again noted)

 

Then came the modern ages

Where every instagrammer

Pronounced themselves a wanderlust

And travelled the roads always taken

As long as they got a selfie

And a pic for their tinder bio.

 

Out of the corner of the eye

In a lorry packed with explosives

Came in crazy corona.

Travel was now confined to

The end of our streets

And inside our eye

Where the mind meets

And give us little treats

From the camera of the past

To vacations visited last

And memories gone by fast.

 

Home which was once a retreat

Has now become a place of deceit

Where we now work and relax not

Suddenly our third eye and an old map

Is all we got!  

 

Written for Sunday muse and Writer's Pantry

Sweet Surrender

Give up!

Trying to fight the great inevitability

of death, pain and loss.

Given in to the memories of yesterday

Crashing into your consciousness

Like waves on a no moon day

Luring you into the bottomless ocean

Why walk on water?

When you can sleep on the ocean floor

Squarepants and what not.

Stalagmites

Sharing a poem I handwrote my friends for this friendship day :) sorry for the non posting. Laptop crash and a law career makes writing difficult!

Stalagmites gracing the inner linings of my heart

inner compasses gently swaying me away

from turbulent mirages , of

an insecure voice 

which once belonged to my mind 

Making me believe 

that I can be more 

than my self

by being myself

My saviors in nightgowns

roaming a love lost town

when we have each other

we will always be home 

Sense of an Ending

Once I was the new girl

quietly inhabiting my corner 

Inhibitions galore 

Tongues tied with awkwardness 

wrapping me up, producing no comfort. 

It took a fair amount of time,

some nice humans and 

a good deal of ass kicking and coffee smelling 

to be me in front of them. 

Then school got over and college got me

starting all over again. 

College took a fair bit longer 

with relocation , Hindi and whatnot

I had resigned myself to my fate 

of becoming the crazy cat lady or

the pigeon lady from Home alone. 

All it took was one kind human 

to introduce me to her friends 

With them I could finally 

Stand in the sun. 

A big family of friends we became 

a noisy bunch , food bonded us 

to extraordinary measures

We ate more than we spoke

maybe the only reason restaurants

didn't kick us out! 

We handled failures and successes 

makeovers and breakdowns 

with much elan 

and stuck with each other through it all. 

Intimidating other individuals with our 

sheer numbers

we had a ball! 

Now the days are vanishing rapidly 

and the sun might set on us after all. 

The time to restart is looming around the corner 

I  wish this time that 

I can put them in my pockets 

and carry them wherever I want! 

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.

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

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)