Broken pieces of my soul

Are you broken? the world enquires.
Their words deceiving their sarcastic self,
"No, I am fine", is all that I say
For I know, I only can hold the broken pieces together.
I only can teach myself to live,
I only can fix the broken pieces of my soul.

And I wonder, why does it pain each time life slays you.
You were the one to deceive yourself,
You always knew it would hurt.
Now, when it finally did hurt
Why cry, why lament!
Why act as if you didn't see it coming.
The hot cauldron of oil boiling to purge your soul
Mocks the broken pieces which lay faltering.
It's time you pulled it together,
It's time you realise
You only can fix the broken pieces of your soul.

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Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing

Cup of tea

Be his 'cup of tea' the world announced, My hena smeared hands decided my fate. I was a butterfly, wild, untamed. Who ran like the wind, even faster than the wind. But, my legs got shackled My run gave away to timid steps My dreams evaporated with the smoke that went curling from the hearth His 'cup of tea' was what I learning to become. I wish someone had said, it's OK to not be anyone's 'cup of tea' I wish someone had said, it's OK to be untamed I wish someone had said, it's OK to live your way But no one did, and I didn't dare I let myself die each day, each night. The veil covered by swollen heart but I felt naked within My wishes got choked in the dense kitchen air My essence got lost in time I became everything that wasn't me. I finally became his 'cup of tea' .

Swings of a rhapsodic mind

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