Substitutions

 

Very often (in life) we substitute

(not immediately 

but over time)

our primary source of gratification. 

The validation I crave

as addicting as nicotine

now comes from work

and not anymore from my

creatively crafted words

but now my 'cleverly' drafted words.

Not camaraderie from my friends

but companionships with The One.

Rather than be filled with guilt

over these ever moving tectonic plates

and drama fought over 

the shifting shapes of time,

graceful acceptance 

of what we have now 

and not just redundant regret 

over what we once had in the past

Acknowledge 

that even though the past lives only in our heads

albeit rent free

We are still very much alive

and can be our own tertiary delights

keeping us balanced

in the right line of sane

Like only old friends can. 

Written for the PU prompt ' Substitutions' 

I am publishing my works after a break and I thank everyone who encouraged me to start writing and sharing it again!

Some pics of the first digitally handwritten draft

P for Pain

 

            P for Pain

 

                                           

P  is for pain,

is also for pleasure.

 

That drop of blood

Which is supposed to torment me

Actually excites me

excruciatingly enough

P is actually for perspective

What pain is for a masochist.

 

Pain is the paint

I brush my body (heart) with

So that I don’t have to

Process my pertinent emotions.

 

Pain is the feeling I embrace

The bruise which I keep on picking

A gift which keeps on giving.

 

The obvious physical pain of

Broken bones

The odious psychological pain of

Broken homes

I embrace it after all

only because 

 I don’t know how to exist

 as a person

Without pain

 at all.

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

Karpagam gardens

So , I went on a walk today.

Roads which  once bustled with robust activity

The Covid addled streets were empty.

I was in search of a pharmacy

Which sells Coca Cola.

Yes , I am well aware of the irony.

 

As I was walking in the main road

I saw an ambulance racing past me.

I always worry a bit about my oldest relatives

After I see that despicable life saving vehicle.

Gave a mental prayer.

Alas! A van with an empty ice box followed it.

 

Mood properly ruined,

I whispered curses to myself and

Switched to a tiny lane,

Hoping for calmness rather calamity

In smaller streets.

 

That’s when I heard a loud male voice

Shouting with all his lungs in hindi,

On how she had tortured him for the past 2 months

On very damn thing!

And it reverberated through the streets

Even when I was fast walking away..

 

Now thoroughly pissed with myself

For not just staying home and

Running out of stamina

I reached the end of the street.

There I saw a couple play badminton

Like we are in the middle of some summer holidays

And thought maybe corona IS

A vacation for the rich.

 

My cynical view was somewhat defeated

When I was nearing the pharmacy

And saw this cute cat

Stretching itself in the middle of the road.

Maybe all will be fine if I just chilled a bit

And stop constantly worrying so much?

 

Maybe peace is something to search inwards for

In the turbulent waves of my heart

Rather than in the rosy exteriors of my neigborhood?

Happy with my midstreet epiphany

I bought some aerated slow poison and

delicious diabetic inducing treats

and made my way back home.

 

 

 

 

The Secret

By Samyuktha J

my response to the book I'm reading which really pissed me off with serendipity and positive thinking when what the world needs right now is constructive action. 

A picture speaks a 1000 words

An action speaks a 100 thoughts

How you treat your mother

speaks more than your tweets

On Feminism.

So rise and shine

And wake up to this universal truth

Packaged as a secret

To make you excited~

Action counts more than thoughts!

All the wishful thinking in the world

Will conspire against you

If you don’t walk the walk

Yellow brick road or not.

Serendipity may await the believer

At the end of the magical rainbow

Along with pots of gold.

Wash your face with the raindrops

And look at the reflection in the dirtypuddle

A lazy hypocrite praying without acting

Should not claim a windfall at all.

Also for Poet united's midweek motif The awakening

Sangili Bungili Open the Door

Hi guys! Wish you all a Happy New year. With New year comes the question of constantly reinventing oneself and I decided to experiment by  collaborating on a fictional story with Prason - Humor blogger and CFO of the soora mokkai blog - Chronicwriter . You can check out the blog Here , it is a damn chill blog actually and you can thank me later for introducing this kind of awesomeness in your life. So what Prason and I have done is essentially snowball a story from scratch. He writes a line and then I write one spontaneously making it all up and having tonnes of fun in the process. Hope you have as much fun reading it as we had making it.

Disclaimer - The post contains liberal doses of tanglish.

Prason

Prashanth was frantically searching for his laptop.

It was right here inside my backpack.  And now it's not. The backpack zip is open and my favourite key-chain that was fixed with the zip is missing .

My hands instinctively reached for my Jean zip and I was relieved to know that they were all in the right place.

Someone had definitely stolen my lap top. It definitely cannot be my mom. She already has a mac.

My backpack was under the bed; and hence it cannot be the maid too because she does not even clean anything under the bed.

It cannot be my girlfriend because well I don't have one and it cannot be my boyfriend too because I am not gay.

Yen ipdi mokka potu saavadikiraenaa, technically and basically I'm an IT guy and this is all I have in my life. As I am an IT guy, I do have a photography page and all my pictures are in my laptop. And oh my yesunadha! I just realized there are damning pictures of me trying out my nandu brand lungis

Well, I am kidding; there’s more than just my nandu brand mishaps. There is a floor plan of my office which I am going to rob day after tomorrow.

There are three other people in my team and I hate one of them. It cannot be Surya because he only recruited me. Or could this be his masterplan all along? It could be because we both like the same girl – “Smitha” from our team. Trust me when I say Smitha is worth sending someone to jail. Her eyes! They make my heart beat so fast that if I let it out, it can out run Ussain Bolt and create a new world record in the 100 metre dash.

Her voice makes chinna kuyil chitra sound like kovai Sarala. So I never tell her to sing. I never tell her anything actually. But I do talk a lot with Pooja, the other girl in our team. Surya hated it when ever I talked with Pooja or Smitha.

Why did I agree to the stupid robbery plan? I thought it was a stupid joke of course till it was not and by then I had already revealed too much to Pooja. I think she hated me because I liked Smitha and maybe she was the one who flicked the laptop?

My thoughts are jumping so wildly today. I shouldn't have probably had all the free filter kaapi shots. I guess Surya drugged me with those kaapi; he was too friendly with me. I am sure Pooja and Surya are together on this.

I try to call them with my phone. Alas! My phone is also missing. I had last seen it in my back pocket. What the fruit is happening guys?

All I have is this one Rupee coin. I have no other option but to invest this coin and become a millionaire. And for that I need to leave this damned room. And this is when I realize that the door is locked. Not the sharpest day for the 10th topper today.

Well I gotta pee now. My bladder is full and time is ticking too. I have used all my karate and yoga skills to control this tsunami attack. But aathratha adakkalaam. But moothratha kandippa control panna mudiyaadhu. Let me unload eshwaraaa! I wake up in a pool of sweat from my bed and I look under the bed immediately. I can see my laptop peeping through the backpack.

Prason's version of the same story is up on his blog. Do check it out!

Abducted

I happened to read about the girl in a box , Colleen Stan recently and her story really shook me. I tried to imagine myself in such a situation and find it impossible to sound optimistic , so honest I'm being. 

Dear whoever who gets this,

I hope you really do get this.

But I am pretty sure he will tear this up.

 Another one of his psychological games.

I don’t really know my name

Not anymore

Like before

Objects don’t need names

That is insane!

But I was a person once before

Used to hate my life

For being so normal.

Perfect parents

Enough income

Boring lifestyle

I wish I could get back to that life

haha

He penetrates me everyday

Tearing parts of me for himself

My flesh fully exposed

My limbs chained to the ground

I am his slave now.

He let me escape once

I think 5 years back?

Could be months too

Hell is always for eternity.

I was out in his front yard

Naked except for my cuffs

Unused to all the sunlight

And freedom of my limbs

My starved body wouldn’t move

Shivering in terror

I was almost thankful

when he came with his stun gun

And told me he always knew I couldn’t do it.

Why am I saying all this to you?

Please take my baby

And raise her well.

I can’t be a mother

From the bowels of hell.

Plato's Fault

Tick Tock

Tock Tick

Tick Tock!

Exam in 11 hours , 3 new questions to do and 34 more to revise. They hadn’t slept in 3 days due to the previous 3 back to back exams…..

Crushed Red bull cans and empty mugs which once contained black coffee lay on the hostel corridor along with 4 girls who were splayed across sheetless mattresses dumped onto the corridor from their respective rooms. The corridor overlooked the normally empty grounds of the hostel which was now patrolled by sleepless students scrambling about in despair.

JJ’s eyelids were closing in on her against her will. Not now baby… only 1 more exam then Freedom 4evaaa! Almost echoing the same sentiments, came a voice from the other side of the mattress with a hollow , dreamlike quality “You know what is the true freedom? Sleeping forever…for eternity”

The voice belonged to Kalra , she who loved saying crazy things for the sake of drama and she who sometimes was drama itself in a human shape. The third one , ‘Rambo’ had given up on life after being utterly exhausted and had taken the student’s route to conquer it – apply some Zandu Balm on bread and Bam! You got your energy. In rambo’s case since she was a bit big , she overestimated how much she needed and had way too much and now she was high as high can be and was just rolling around and annoying others.

Wait. What was that noise? Oh that’s anan

“After a certain point you just have to admit that NOBODY gives a flying ___ about what Plato , Aristotle or Aquinas gotta say. What about what we have got to say? I had no say when papa wanted me to follow his footsteps and become a lawyer. I must be the only person in India who wanted to become an engineer and wasn’t allowed to become one!”

She moped in her shrill sad voice as she always did. Her friends had only eye rolls to offer her. Rolling Rolling Rolling   

That’s what happens when you realise that you hate your career choice every exam time and resolve to tell dad you are quitting, only to come back placated, thanks to the latest iPhone he bribed you with. You lose the moral ground pretty fast. Sorry Anan

“ If you keep telling me this story I’ll end up writing it instead of this Hobbes theory lololol” JJ started crying out in laughter. She is losing it! And yes she is one of those cases who ‘say’ LOL. God bless them.

So JJ continued with her Hobbes theory despite lack of sleep and overdose of laughter. That dude apparently believed that law is a social contract that the first generation of beings voluntarily gave up their  rights for and the forthcoming generations have no option to get out of it. Isn’t consent material to any contract? This is just plain fraud and coercion on the state’s part! I don’t want skl , college , job , government , taxes , pathan notes and red bull cans! But I am forced to take part in all this because someone already decided what ‘civilisation’ is. Why can’t there be a strip of land where people who don’t wanna be part of the contract can like chill and make rocks out of fire without the government asking us to pay taxes. wHYY?

But before she could Rambo woke up with a start. She looked into Kalra’s eyes and smiled serenely. Kalra got scared and asked her “ what is wrong with you Behen..”

“ Behen! I have figured out life” she spoke manically not unlike a religious fanatic “ We have been going about it all wrong. The point of life is not being awake , the point of life , the point is to sleep! We are supposed to find food for energy purposes , eat them and go to sleep where we can live in our dreams , where anything and everything is possible. There is no limits of logic and physics in our head. We could enjoy being a millionaire and have an eight course meal and feel everything. Isn’t life all about feeling and perceiving. It is not what it is but what it can be. With more sleep and practice I believe we can control our dreams and that is how we fulfil our destiny. What the hell are we doing reading Plato and Aristotle when we can be our own thinkers? When did the world decide we have finished establishing rules. Omg I’m gonna copyright all this. Yipee! Bye losers , I’m becoming famous”

Rambo got up and ran to other parts of the hostel to scare more poor souls. The other 3 silent looked at each other not sure what they should. Wake up the warden and tell her that Rambo has lost it? But who wasn’t losing it? Some only more than others.

“ We ALL have theories and ideas. But we don’t publish it and force other people to study it in one day and make them go mad” wailed anan.

“I don’t think Plato set our exam papers anan..” quipped JJ.

“ Arey JJ , no one wants your stupid logic. Okay I am getting bored. Teach me something about your South India.” butted in Kalra

“ Kalra , if you can at least tell me the names of the 4 Southern states , I’ll try”

“I know that your name is Jayalalitha and that’s funny cuz your dead CM had the same name. Okay don’t get pissed. Mallu Land, Madras , telugu nadu and the other one I forgot”

“ Wow , I hope that you can retain at least the name of the people you have to write about tomorrow”

Mildly offended Kalra lashed out “ Tell me, does your Chinnai have Punjabi food like naan and butter chicken?”

JJ lost it , “ Enough of this b.s , I don’t live in a village. Obviously we have everything!”

“Saali , what I wrong with villages. Don’t show off your big city arrogance”

“ You started it , you racist prick!”

Sensing a cat fight which no one had the energy to fight Anan chipped in , “Guys! Don’t let Plato destroy our friendship. This is ALL plato’s fault!”

They hadn’t come to an agreement on that quite yet when a loud noise came from above shocking them. No guys it wasn’t Plato coming back to defend his now tarnished image but it was the drug addled Rambo! She had managed to find a dangerously high place to stand on.

“ Everything is fake! Dreams are what is. To prove this truth which no one seems to believe I am going to jump from here because I know that I am trapped in an eternal nightmare called reality.Cheer me on ladkiyon!”

Her friends gaped in horror as she took the plunge and came crashing down. Her eyelids were shut firmly and finally..

Tick Tock

Tock Tick

Tick Tock

The clock was ticking in the exam hall and Rambo woke up from her dreams. Didn’t know how much of that was a dream! Did she have zandu balm , was she on the roof , lol did she have friends by the name JJ , Kalra and Anan even? She didn’t know anything , couldn’t focus. However , she did recall the answer to Plato’s Republic. Truly this is all his fault.

Puddle

Mirror Mirror!

Cry me a river

The translucent teardrops

Are actually from my forehead

Nothing but stinky fruits of my labour.

The beads of perspiration form

An amoebic puddle

Modern art

Won’t sell for a penny today

Investment for tomorrow you see.

On it,

I see myself of yesterday

A cartoon faced kid

Who wanted to be a detective ,

Kaleidoscopic dance

Ripples of time,

Myself of Today

An adultish looking person

Staring at pools and puddles

Wanting to dream again.

Written for Poet's united Midweek Motif 'Mirror'

Thaat

Uhm.

Restless

Like today will bring me no good

Charting goals for tomorrow

Only that I don’t what they are.

It is not a question of what to do

I know that I want to do good

For myself and others .

So , a question of how

But the nihilistic why?

Keeps poking its head pretty randomly.

Never wanted to play in the corporate rat race

But the pressure to be ‘placed’

Gnaws my resolve.

Resolve to do what? 

I still don’t know..

Noo

Every field is going to be a struggle

What if I pick something I love and

My passion burns into ashes?

Why should there be only one path?

The need to know all the answers

Makes me unravel

The thought of meandering aimlessly

Doesn’t bode well too.

Taking concrete action towards this

Seems like saying bye to that.

So this , that or this and that?

How about Thaat?

Aargh.

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.  

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

The seeker

I seek inspiration

for writing is easy no more 

thoughts ebb rather than flow

instinctual illumination and enlightenment

which once defined me 

sounds like something from a bygone era. 

Words don't even exist 

to sound stifled or stymied 

everything feels mechanical

excitement doesn't really tickle my heart

when I think of blogging

I can hear wordpress whispering to me 

that blogger is an un-updated relic , 

I can feel the crunch of not having enough content

to be eligible for adsense 

or enough drive 

to submit to a blogadda 

References I make feel like

the Dorne storyline from Game of Thrones -

They just don't make sense.

Everything I put pen to, sounds so unoriginal 

or better put by somebody else. 

I used to sound light hearted even when i was trying not to be -

much to my chagrin in fact ,

but now i sound like cranky ranter 

venting her turmoil in public webspace 

Basically I have become somebody , 

I used to laugh at. 

But yeah , things change. 

For better or worse 

and you have to go with the flow

Isn't that what "Steady Meanderings" is all about?

I ask myself 

In that minuscule moment  

I get a brief glimpse of 

What I used to be 

or what I could be,

If only I could get rid of these not so insane negative thoughts.

This pity party has to stop asap 

I need to write,sketch , scribble something

meander somewhere 

anywhere but here.

For that , 

I seek inspiration

Imagine Mountains

What do mountains mean to me?

Eons back! 

At my lowest they are insurmountable challenges that I look up at , with more awestruck worry than inspired determination. Being a fretful diva , I tend to feel that these imaginary mountains are firmly embedded on my tired shoulders.

I hate their stupid hairpin bends , which give my already motion sick tummies a valid reason to unburden themselves. I have a distinct memory of myself , a 7 year old shutting my eyes very tightly whilst hugging my dad’s lap as the auto went up the mountain. Like the tightness and resultant blindness has anything to do with my body’s capacity to deal with the stress of travel!

Oh how I hate the mountains.

Then I climbed a hill. By myself – 2 years back? Symbolism and travelling aside , they do have a plus. They have peaks!

The exhilaration you get when you reach the top , the air feeling fresher than it was a couple of feets ago.

The panaroma! Everything looks small from the top. It gives you perspective , humility – which I lack in abundance.

If you can feel that up a hill , you can definitely feel it up a mountain right?

I don't know why I trekked but I am glad I did. 

But Mountain is also the dude from Game of thrones who killed Oberyn Martell!

So maybe I have mixed feelings about mountains.

I scaled a huge mental mountain today. Scaled one without giving up , a bit battered and bruised and I am definitely feeling the high xD but what happens after this? Climbing down can be slippery , definitely if you’re taking the surfboard called fun down it. Imageries aside, being a beach person I wanted to thank all the mountain people who helped me in this climb. I didn’t necessarily enjoy it but it was an adventure nonetheless. Thank you.

Hope you all enjoy the high too. Think about that if you’re climbing a steep path yourself.

Okay I will stop.

Bye!  

So what do mountains mean to you? 

Forever Young

When is one truly grown up?
He said "When you're more than five feet tall"
She laughed at her seven year old cousin.
But it got her thinking.
When puberty hits?
Was biology even a factor?
Then she recalled all the adult shaped boys she had come across over the years ,
they thought a bit of facial hair signified maturity!
A guffaw should still make sense
however hot and deep it sounded.

Not like she felt very adultish herself.
She had the biological numbers
She did have her own place
and took her own decisions
had romantic interests.

Was self sufficiency the key?
There are quite a number of 'adults' who earned
but who didn't appear to be in control of anything.
Maybe it is all an appearance of self assurance.

Nobody knows what they are doing ~
Life keeps throwing curveballs at you
but you don't even know how to play baseball!
We are all just trying to walk on water
Never figuring life out
and pretending to be an 'adult'

Never appearing to lose control ,
I think losing your concept of what you are
and trying to explore who you are is the first mark of adulthood.
Not piling on premade store bought identities marked 'grown up'.

We all think an 'adult' is someone with a family , job and etcetera
but most of them are just kids who were thrown at the deep end of the pool
very fast
That they appear to be floating with head barely above water
and eventually learn to not sink
is not the slight bit endearing.

Why can't they be swimmers  who learn all the skills or
Maybe they wanna scuba dive or sail in sailboats
or maybe they wanna fly .
Who are we to decide who adults are?

To me an adult is a person who knows who he/she really is or has a clear vision of who they are going to become or who atleast admits they have no idea and is working towards it.
A person who makes their own strategy for life.
Till then we will be forever young
and confused.

Samyuktha Semi Jayaprakash