Glow

By | Published Thursday, 3 May 2012


The glow of the florescent lights,

In the dingy bar,

Beer-spilt jeans with the day’s shopping.

I look for your eyes and only see black.

The glow of the moment,
That lasted for the first few times.
The spark, the light, the eternal radiance.
When there was laughter in our voices,
A spring in our gait.
Everything was new, everything fresh.
Just like the first summer breeze.

The echoes of escape within me.
The wanting, to let go.
Why hold on?
When it was never meant to be.

In the glow of these candles,
Burnt and low,
Crackling merrily without a care.
Of the and that is near.

Look up to the stars in the heavens,
There is no struggle.
It is as simple as dropping the dirty coin,
Into the puddle below.

I perch on the edge,
Looking down in the darkness,
I search your face for that look,
which says, "I know".

The glow of your eyes,
The truth and the guiltlessness.
Why did you believe me?
While I was only playing a game.

I had made a perfect bed.
In your arms.
I glowed in your love,
Basked in your attention.
Now I need to let it go,
without any regrets.

My persistent internal struggle,
The internal fire inside of me.
I can’t risk being with you,
Just to forget who I really am.

I'll find it again, the day after tomorrow,
not exactly, but between the now and then.
The creeping cracks of time heals all.
While I hold a white flag,and forget you
the glow will return again.

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Coffee

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Coffee, like the breeze in the sun.
My lashes, like butterflies flutter,
Wet with water from the first splash.
Invigorated, exhilarated and refreshed,
The mist on my morning eyes, dispelled.

I wear no makeup,
Because I am here. I am alive.
And I am doing what makes me feel good.
Beautiful is how I feel.
Inspite of the morning breath.
I hold the warm cup,
The heat of the cup warming my frosty hands,
My senses steal the divine aroma,
Steam rises in swirls, lines and shapes.
Becoming lost in the air.

Black coffee, brown sugar and beige cream.
This is art, at its finest.
Oh! The little things in life,
That make life worthwhile.

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Me, Myself & My Bag

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The clank of stilettos on concrete,
Of sparkling clothes,
Bathrooms hazy with hairspray and perfume,

The pink ribbon caught in your hair,
Lipstick and cash,
Mint and your blackberry
Ipod and your favorite book.
Some things you won’t leave home without.
You. And your bag.
One for every mood and every occasion.

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Soul on fire

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You cannot tell her what to feel,
Before your idols, she won’t kneel.
The things she knows, you cannot believe
Her reality, you cannot perceive.
Unashamed of her sex appeal,
She can’t be restrained,
by chains or locks.
Sticks & stones won’t break her soul.
She’ll always break free from any box.
If you can, accept her need.
She’ll happily follow, where you lead.
She will love you,deep & long.
If you have the courage to hear her song.
Make her angry or make her cry
Accept the risk, that she can fly.


by Harshita

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Winter Blues

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Chilly gusts of wind they blow,
Through my shuddering window.
As I lay enveloped in a red embrace,
Cotton, wool and linen,
Lie together in a clump.


My grey blanket lies awake,
Keeping off the cold, all night.
And while I yawn and stretch my cold arms,
Wear those fluffy whites on my wrinkly toes,
Good old grey goes to sleep.
The air heavy like lead,
And time seems to crawl,
My snores wear winter clothes,
mittens and socks, jumpers and beanies,
Leaving little to expose.

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How to lie to your parents

By | Published Thursday, 26 April 2012

I envy those kids whose families are all for teenage love. My traditional South Indian upbringing has let me see the drastic difference between prohibited-love and free love.  Just for once I want to be in a relationship, not behind my parents’ back. It would save my already-tainted soul from lies I’ve been blatantly telling my parents since I was sixteen. When other teenagers spent the whole evening fussing over what to wear, I’ve racked my brains planning the date; not just where, when and how but also the excuse for sneaking out of my home.

Fifteen was an eventful year of my life. It’s when I had my awkward first kiss. It’s also when I explored the complexity of lying. For a lie to sound truthful, you have to believe in it first. Saying it out loud seventy two-times helps a lot. It also helps if you fool your subconscious into believing it by muttering it right before you sleep at night. There’s no beginner’s luck. Lying favours the seasoned and the experienced. I learnt it the hard way, got caught, busted and grounded. A few pearls of wisdom in deceit from a friend gave me a start. In the beginning it was just “going to the movies”, which didn’t go well with my folks. I went with “studying with my friends”, which was easy because I actually did study with a few of my girlfriends. I made sure that my grades weren’t bad to erase any traces of suspicion from their minds. Now that I think about it, if I was actually spared the mental exhaustion from contriving lies, I could’ve been a star student of my class. Lesson learnt : Make sure you experience the the thing you are going to lie about. It gives you a lot of material to work with. For example, like me, if you are lying about staying over at your friends’, make sure you casually mention what you had for dinner and how nice her grandmother is. And of course, make sure your folks don’t have your friends’ phone number. If they do have her number and you’re afraid that they’ll check on you make sure she’s ready to lie for you. Keep her posted about your whereabouts and what to tell your parents when they call.


In spite of the ill-gotten thrill from a successful lie(it’s only successful when they’ve bought your lie and you are safely back home and speaking about the things that reinforce the lie), I just wished I didn’t have to lie just to spend time with someone I really cared about. The act of lying tarnished the brilliant glow inside my chest after the date. I felt guilty. My conscience pricked me. The alternative was trying to make them understand. My parents are naive. Still are. Either they were plain surprised or in denial but they refused to accept my theory. After several episodes of trying to make them understand, I gave up. I was initially taken aback and distraught. Countless sleepless nights over my tear-stained pillow, made me realise that there were only two possible ways out of this predicament. Either aliens miraculously land in my backyard and brainwash all their existing memories(and prejudices) or I continue lying to them. The latter seemed plausible.

They couldn't see how valuable teenage love can be, without being realists. True. Odds are teenage love is not everlasting. But at the age of sixteen, I wasn’t interested in finding someone to grow old with. I just wanted to find someone I can learn, listen to music and grow with. I for one, couldn't make my parents see the potential of a teenage relationship.

There are my parents and then there are parents like Mrs. George(from Mean Girls). The kind who make virgin margaritas for their daughters while binge drinking on a dirty mojitos themselves. They pop their heads into your room while you are making out with your boyfriend and ask if you need a condom. I’m just kidding. But I know of parents who pour their daughter her first drink on her eighteenth birthday. I also know of dad’s who’ll drive their daughters home from the bar. But I am perfectly okay without this.

I just want parents who will let me invite my boyfriend over for dinner, over my first baked chocolate cake. I want them to invite him for those innumerable festivals which I’m obligated to spend with my family. I want my dad to call him to accompany him while he’s golfing. I want to have a fight with my mum just because she prefers his feedback on her cooking over mine. Honestly, I just want a relationship in which spend less time worrying about how I’ll sneak out. Why can’t love be as simple as learning English alphabets?

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12 mini-heart attacks

By | Published Tuesday, 24 April 2012

  1. You’d could have sworn that the traffic light  turned  red just 2 seconds ago and is now green.
  2. Your car is turned off. And you are right ahead.
  3. You are walking down the stairs and you missed a step. Your hands immediately reach for the railing.
  4. You reach for your cellphone in your pocket, and it’s not there.
  5. You are playing Mario and jump right on to the edge.
  6. You slam the door after having an argument with your mum. And you hear footsteps approaching.
  7. You are thinking about the fight you had with your dad in the morning while texting your boyfriend. You send the text to your dad instead.
  8. You are getting comfortable in your  chair at work. You tilt your chair too far back.
  9. You are  checking the ad which you triple-proofread the previous day and you think you saw a typo.
  10. You’ve just started driving and you don’t press the clutch while changing the gear.
  11. You are jerked awake by one of those weird falling dreams and you see a ghost-like shape in your room at night. 
  12. You are in a meeting with your colleagues  and your phone starts ringing.
  13. You roll over in your bed to stop right at the edge of the mattress.



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Just do it already

By | Published Monday, 23 January 2012

“I like serious relationships. And a girl like me don’t stay single for long” - Fergie in Clumsy .

This, I have to say, is the truest confession of any hopeless romantic.

I’ve met tons of girls who love being single for as long as I know them. It’s great. For a whole six months before I met my boyfriend, I too was in a state of single-stacy. A ride on the wild side? Hell yeah. There isn't a better time for that. The cherry on the single-life-cupcake is the independence, the freedom  and the perpetual me-time. Ask someone who’s been in a relationship for more than a year and they’ll tick the pros of being single, off their fingers in a seconds.
Ask a single lady who’s been in the singles bandwagon, for  well...quite a while. They’ll look happy, carefree and available all the time. How do you spot one? Well, for starters look for a girl with waxed, perfectly smooth(read hairless) legs and arms all the time. Her fingertips and toenails are perfectly manicured. Her hair is blow dried and hair sprayed, with not a hair out of place. If you happen to look through her bag, you will find a card for a year-long gym membership. Her clothes, shoes, bags and accessories would be so immaculate that it would rouse the green monster in a ‘taken’ girl. Frequent girl days out, luncheons and the endless night outs is a typical week for her. Maybe, such perfection is an exaggeration, but hey, you get the drift.

You will think that being a single, independent, sassy girl is the a fairytale life. I for one, am all for singledom. Though I dread the thought of growing old alone. It all boils down to a vision of me sitting on a rocking chair, drinking unsweetened chamomile tea, cuddling my Cocker Spaniel. Alone. This would give anyone, irrespective of their upbringing, nationality, sex and faith, a feeling of deep dread and despair. Simply because I could not get along with anyone long enough to grow old with them. 
I know girls and guys who are 22 but never have been kissed. And I’m talking about witty, smart and attractive people. It’s not as if that is a sad, wrong or bad. Sure, you are waiting for your idea of the perfect someone. Sure, you are entitled to get nothing but the best. After all, you’ve waited for so long. Unfortunately, relationships don’t just happen. Nor do you need to make them happen. Let’s say, you kinda have to tread the fine line between these two. Having said that, there’s really no point living in a bubble-like illusion that when you fall in love it will be with the works. Rain falling softly, a string quartet playing in the background, you standing there speechless while that someone gently sweeps you off your feet. Nor will your first kiss be Taylor Swift-perfect. It’s going to be clumsy, with you grinning like a Cheshire cat while he kisses your teeth instead of your lips. I won’t deny that it’ll still be euphoric. And sometimes you might have to kiss a dozen frogs before you find your prince or princess.
You will inevitably find someone or your parents (from where I come from) will select a partner for you. The objective is served but you will wake up one day, next to your supposed soulmate with whom you are having a perfect relationship and wonder if you could have done better(or worse) and the miss out on the whole experience of the relationships-that-did-not-work-out. So my word to all you singles, is to get out there. Go ask that girl who has been secretly crushing on you, oblivious to the fact that you know about it. Have that clumsy first kiss, get caught making-out, cry your eyes out, laugh till your insides hurt, take off to a a place with no plans, sneak out after midnight for a walk together, get stoned, drunk and high all at the same time. Be spontaneous, be carefree and go forth. For you are young and alive, and there should’nt be anything to hold you back and stop you from doing anything you desire.

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