Swings of a rhapsodic mind

As I seal these words in ink, I can see you brooding over pesky grays: unwelcomed and too many! I know, I know you are a planner, That you like to hide, And hate to take risks Yet, can't you just let go? I know life has been tough Growing up sucks, Adulting gives you cringes. But, girl, dance in your pyjamas When you still can. Don't brood at the worldly ways Your blanket shields you from all the hurt. Your books accept you with warmth, Life is more about you and less about the world. Let them run after all the sparkle, I know you find peace in your dim lit corners. Summers fun for ice-creams, Winters for a piping cup of coffee. So what if you still are a kid trapped in an adult's world You still are you and that is what it takes. So, dear, breathe while you still can The 20s won't last forever, The 30s would be real bother, Mellowing 40s would be wiser. But right now, as I write this I want you to enjoy all the cosiness You deserve and reserve for yourself! I want you ...

As a kid, I was fascinated by the world of grown ups. They seemed pretty cool to my eyes. They could ply their vehicles, move around without seeking permissions and get anything they wanted as they had money in their pockets. On the contrary, there I was struggling to choose jelly over butter for breakfast. Well, well maybe I still am a kid trapped in a grown ups body. The last couple of months have been tough, I have had dealt with unseen situations. I tried to fare it well but probably I wasn't taught the requisites to come out strong. I have  abided by a rule book all of my life. Rather than being in a story I had always opted to stay at the periphery. I have lived more anticipating a future rather thank making amends with my present. The past though a lost chapter somehow never leaves my thought process because all of it makes me who I am today and I don't regret any of it. These past months were filled with self revelation. I have finally realised how I have always tried...

 I need time for what seems obvious Why? Well, there's no obvious answer. I need time for what seems easy breezy to you , but sigh not to me. Between letting go and holding on, I need time: every time. I try to look at the world like I am supposed to do I try to fit in my parents shoe But as I ponder, I cry out "I need time". To bloom and to return to dust, I need time. Irony being , probably I am running out of time. I know, I become cranky I know, I say "I can't, give me some time" And yet, time that passes begets more time Irony has a disdaining laugh For i chase time to run out of it. But, for now, I am learning to slow down I am learning to unlearn whatever I was fed I am learning to not chase time Probably, I will put it to rest for some time. Next time, probably I won't need more time.

It was during my initial year of graduation when I took notice of this word in the small preety wall bulletin near Mohapatra Sir's cabin. I almost had knocked Sir's cabin, I wanted to know the meaning of the word and I didn't have a smart phone nor an internet connection back then to bring home a world of dot coms. But, I being the hesitant girl I was, I retraced back to class carrying that word in my head. I quietly jotted down the word in the last page of my notebook, it has stayed there till today. I won't tell you the literal meaning for it would miss my context. I would often run to that preety board to see what it held for the day, there would be interesting bits of write ups, fun facts and comic sketches from the students. One mundane day, sir caught me looking intensely at the board and told me the story behind it. I being the story monger, lit up at the idea. Sir, is a world traveller, he has been to remote and distant places. He being the person he is, ...

I tried to find a color that defines us, I know you would understand why I chose blue! The blue of the mountains and the blue of our pain, Match the blue of the ink when we paint emotions. Remember, you said I don't wear blue enough? That you picture me in blue flowing Kurtis, And I would click my tongue to feign irritation. But, I would rummage through my wardrobe later I never told you, you weren't dreaming I had that blue flowing kurti which I never wore For, I wanted you to keep dreaming. Somedays, you would be drunk to the core And compare me to a lifeless wall, My pain all blue froze in my bones. My tears, all blue, trailed through powdered cheeks. You know, blue found us, When the world was obsessed with black and white. It found me staring at the blue sky And you, at the blue of my dupatta. Remember, you had lost my 'piccachu', Ah, I had next made you one in blue. The tiny red dots of its cheeks fought when I painted But, it was our world...

I wasn't all-right you weren't all-wrong And unlike what the world says, One wrong and one right made our world bright. Yet, a fight! Phew,! fallen knight. Of withered memories leaking through stiches Of mellowed days that time breaches. Nothing to loose when everything's been lost. Yet, hold on when the days aren't right Hold on when you give up your might Hold on a bit for its all worth, For I am counting on your wrong. For your quirky song. For all the idiocy that escapes your tongue, For I know you from the past. I know not of future, it has no promise to tell But the past been ours And for it's sake, a faint request Hold on, eh. You probably do not know, Of my expeditions along muddy fields. How I wait to see fishes gleam. How my sneezes chase scary frogs. How I have befriended a neighbor dog. How I wheel the car's steering each morn How I teach grandma English alphabets, How fascinating it sounds when she narrates T...

"I don't quite like our generation, do you?", asked my cousin. "Well…", I fumbled for I didn't have any answer. "Everything today can be bought with money, I want to know what it feels like to long for things which we can't buy and yet need them", he added wisely "Did amoi( grandma) teach you this?", I enquired, curious. "No, I thought about it on my own", he smiled. … I was dumbfounded by my ten year old cousin. This kid had learnt his lesson on life. He has been my "walky talky" these seven days. I chose to call him by that name because he briefs me about everything that's escaped my notice. He perhaps senses my off minded behavior. For he jerks me time and again, pulling by my hand clicking his tongue in disdain. Each morning, we hit the paved village roads crossing green paddy fields and muddy ponds. My grandma's place is a farmer's paradise. The fields are lush green with rice being planted....