Americano

Who knew I'd be guzzling down so much Americano,

And gorging on puffs like never before,

Dropping by Starbucks, felt like homecoming,

It almost felt like I was slowly becoming,

Some version of you,

One sip of that bitter brew and all my brain fog just flew,

That really was the best coffee, I'd ever had,

I walked out of there feeling rad,

Bits and pieces of you, still exist all around me,

It was a bittersweet feeling of sadness and glee,

Three years on,

I'm pretty sure I've moved on,

Yet, there are moments like this,

Where I still feel suspended in time,

I wonder what you'd think of me now,

I'm sure you'd ask me how,

I've started drinking so much black coffee.

Home Sweet Home

I hate to admit this, but some of the best decisions of my life have been taken for me by my parents. The terrible ones which had me stuffing my face with too much food and bawling my eyes out, were all mine.

This house was another such decision they took for me, when I came back home abruptly when my marriage of close to 8 years ended. My parents were quick to invest in a home for me.

"Who am I going to build that house with? My dead husband?", was the question I asked them. "You need your own space and therefore you must move out", was their reply.

So I clung on to them and the house that I grew up in even harder, but I could slowly see the practicality of live apart, yet close. My family is loud and opinionated, everyone brings their unique thinking on board which sometimes can cause friction. And that's the most diplomatic way in which I can describe Indian families and silly squabbles.

I eventually moved out with my 4 year old in toe, but close enough to still be around my parents. My kitchen is just for show, because all my meals come from mom's house. My son hates living with me and prefers spending all his free time with his grandparents while I work.

They've gone to Ooty for the summer and I've been home alone for the past 2 weeks. And the bachelorette life is absolutely bliss. No screechy little child to feed every 2 hours, no toys to trip and fall over and a routine that doens't involve shutting between two houses and listening to my now 6 year old son, accuse me of "taking the worst decision of our lives" by moving homes. 

A home is not just a monetary investment, it's a slice of peace, your safe haven and a little bit of your crazy personality up on display.

It's been a little over 2 years since I've been living solo and what a great experience it has been. It's empowering, it's peaceful and I highly recommend it. 

Superheroes

There hasn't been a single superhero movie made,

That hasn't changed my life or made me wonder why I'm so afraid,

Superheroes are larger than life,

And full of life,

They're strong yet vulnerable,

They make mistakes, yet are more than capable,

They have family who kick their ass,

Some whose partners die alas,

They're human, despite being heroes,

Sometimes they too feel like zeros,

The same insecurity which we humans have,

Yet they create history and carve,

Their names, 

They're truly one of a kind, they save the world because it's right and not for fame,

Every superhero leaves a lasting impact on me,

They inspire me to break free,

From the shackles I've created inside me,

I should just be,

Because there's only one me,

And there's only one you, so let us just be.

Friday

Friday, 

Is no ordinary day,

It brings with it a breath of fresh air,

You can finally let down your hair,

The finish line,

Just a few gorgeous hours away, so hold on to your whines,

Instead, open a bottle of wine,

Or thulp down some Bailey's, whatever makes you feel on cloud nine,

My weekend is already packed,

My brains no longer feel racked,

I'm already looking forward,

And onwards,

To my cheat meal Sunday,

And swim sessions today and Saturday,

A whole lot of me time,

Makes my heart sing a joyous chime.

Hyperactive Energy

Someone called me Harley Quinn last week,

And this morning my mother called my son a hyperactive little cheek,

He was climbing over sofas and walls,

Swinging between everything, almost like he was about to free-fall,

I looked at him and realized,

Without feeling surprised,

Of course he's hyper, I'm hyper in my head,

He will obviously be one step ahead,

While I take out my hyperactiveness with words,

He does the same, with action and words,

Hyperactive is the best way to be,

Who wants to be pleasant like ghee,

We're not people pleasers,

And never will be,

It's always great to have a sharp tongue,

And actions that match those words that  spontaneously sprung,

Best to vent out all that energy,

So that the heart and mind are always in synergy.

ZNMD

When I saw this movie as a student,

I was convinced I'd be cool guy Imran, writing poetry that was simply brilliant,

Who knew, I'd turn out to be workaholic Arjun,

Turning down family holidays and feeling like a champion,

Waiting for my Laila now,

To turn up somehow,

On a cool motorbike, 

Advising me to let work take a hike,

Maybe I do need saving,

A hot male version of Laila on a bike, I'm definitely craving,

In the interim, let me just get back to work,

And hope the divine force up above, fulfills all my whimsical desires and quirks. 

Bye Bye Summers

Woke up this morning to a bright shiny day,

Black skies similar to an alien attack, fully gone away,

So are the summers back,

Are we under another heat attack,

As my mind wandered with these thoughts, the colours of the skies changed,

Almost like the moods of the clouds rearranged,

Humans must learn from nature,

There is nothing greater,

Than quietly accepting the right now,

Without questioning how,

Accept change,

Always be ready to rearrange,

Your habits, your perceptions and your beliefs,

Change brings relief,

So accept the now,

Without questioning how,

It's the only way you can move along,

Be quick to say, so long,

And embrace the new,

Even if you're lost and have no clue.

Breathwork

Mind over matter,

It's the only way to quieten the brain's chatter,

Slow, deep breaths,

And all negative thoughts die a slow, painful death,

Believe that good things are on the way,

Have the conviction that you can convert hay,

To pure gold, 

With having to sell your soul,

To evil Rumpelstiltskin,

Your confident skin,

Is all you need,

To hold yourself up in good stead,

Throw away all negativity,

At the same time, there's no need for toxic positivity,

Breathe, that's all you need to do,

To change your world view.

Empuraan

As I rewatch Empuraan,

I remembered how my mind ran,

Inside that big dark movie hall,

Where I kept eating Shina's brain, telling her that I want to do it all,

Be in a drug cartel, become a politician,

You please handle your current position,

Which is of being a corporate slave,

Where only you misbehave,

This much drama is enough in your life woman,

She told me, far from being wooden,

We chuckled hysterically, 

And commented maniacally,

That's what happens when two mallus watch Lalettan,

What took over us, was a sense of giddy headedness,

All those punch dialogues and costume changes,

And location changes,

Had us in awe,

Lalettan movies must release every 6 months by law,

A nice morning was had,

Watching Lalettan made us feel happy and glad. 

Solo Dates

I took myself out on a solo shopping spree followed by a lunch and coffee date. It surprisingly didn't feel awkward or strange. The mall was buzzing with enough chatter and noise. I felt like an insignificant goldfish inside a large bowl full of people. 

I blew up some of my hard earned money on way too many cosmetics, all impulsive buys of course. "I'll just have a look at one purple kajal please", was my opening line to the salesperson at Lifestyle. She took one look at me and knew I was the perfect bait. Before I knew it, I walked out of the store with one too many foundations and kajal sticks. There is no such thing as too much make-up in this world.

Summers in Chennai have me looking like melted caramel icecream, with my foundation just flowing off my face. Picture Shobhana in the middle of her Nagavalli dance, that's me, on any given day that I decide to throw on some gold bronzer on my face.

Now back to my solo date, I walked into my favourite Italian joint, to be greeted warmly by the server who recognised me instantly. I gobbled up way too many carbs in one single meal. Next, I decided to end that decadent binge with more decadence by walking into a newly opened coffee shop. 

I ordered an Americano and a double chocolate chip cookie. By now my pounding migraine (thanks to my super early morning swim), was picking up some shape and form around the corners of my skull.

I knew it was time to go home now. Indians are loud, and for that I'm grateful. I didn't feel lonely or bored during my entire morning and afternoon out.

To more solo shopping and food sprees! 

The Smells of Chennai

The aroma of Saambar in the mornings,

Ghee fried tiffins by evening,

Kurma and saadams in the afternoon,

Freshly brewed filter coffee all through June,

Just kidding, 

There's no ridding,

Of fliter coffee,

It's one beverage that everyone meets eye to eye,

Then comes the fresh sea breeze,

To put our minds at ease,

These familiar smells,

Are what make Chennai feel like home, our brain cells,

Immediately perk up,

Our moods instantly brighten up,

All thanks to these typical Chennai smells,

Our hearts swell,

With sheer joy,

Work is immediately put aside as our heart goes "oh boy, oh boy",

For me, food always comes first,

Most evenings I give in to a delectable urge,

It's either bondas or vadas,

Without it, my mood is nada, 

Chennai and it's smells,

It definitely rings my heart's bells.

This Song

My go to workout song,

Absolutely not a single lyric and melody wrong,

It pumped me to jog,

My brain just accepted this beautiful tune like a hog,

Poopie always told me,

That it reminded him of me,

I wonder who that girl was, whom he met,

I remember always having a brain that fret,

It's lively and loud, just like you,

This song is you,

He convinced me,

So I just let it be,

When I give it a listen now,

I simple allow,

Those wonderful memories to wash over me,

Maybe I am as a bright as a bee. 

Guilty Pleasures

I strolled into Shri Krishna Sweets today after my 40 minute walk, scanned their snack shelves from top to bottom and then asked the sales person, "Aren't there baked snacks here?" She looked at me, controlled a snigger and said, "Illa madam." I gave her an all knowing smile back.

She and I both knew, I was definitely not looking for healthy food options inside one of Chennai's oldest sweet shops.

I quickly walked up to the billing counter, grabbed two individual Kaju Katlis and one Chandrakala. As she was billing the items, my eyes fell upon a very tempting poster of golden fried samosas. "Samosa irruka?", I asked her with drool practically dripping down the sides of my mouth now.

"Irruku madam. Ellame gaali." I now had access to ghee fried Samosas and puffs barely five minutes away from home. My heart skipped a beat. My tongue quickly took a delicious trip down nostalgia lane remembering those aromatic ghee-fried samosas stuffed with raisins, cashews and potatoes.

I've had a good day. I gobbled down two Kaju Katlis and one Chandrakala faster than a lizard  flicking it's tongue in and out to catch bugs.

I've had a very good day indeed. Burp! 

Shit Storm Survivor

I'm not sure whether it was my army upbringing and constantly hearing stories of war. Or whether I was raised by an anxious grandmother. Or the fact that my 35 year old seemingly healthy spouse decided to climb the stairway to heaven over 3 years ago, the point is I've become an efficient shit storm survivor.

I anticipate it, with my unnecessary overthinking, i concort scenarios in my head that may or may not happen. Long story short, I always have a plan B and I'm ready to lock and load, whenever required.

I remember the initial couple of months after my husband passed away, I just couldn't bring myself to being happy. I had gone for an offsite and had bagged an award within 6 months of joining the organisation and I was elated. Through all that laughter and hysteria, I felt extremely guilty for being so happy. I was a new widow afterall.

That feeling persists till date. When seemingly happy or exciting things happen around me, I anticipate in my head, "but where's the shit storm?" 

My moments of sheer bliss and joy come from eating a good meal. Anything other than food, I simply do not trust. My guards are always up, I'm ready to disconnect, move on, keep walking and so on.

I'm not unhappy per se, I'm just suspicious of happiness. I'm happy averse, if there is such a term. I believe all good things end quickly, therefore it's better not to get too attached to the illusion.

Finally, I realise my story is not unique. Everyone is fighting a silent battle, we know nothing about. So the least we can do, is be kind. Let people down gently, if you must. There really is no room for violence, because everything is over in the blink of an eye. 

Work Breaks

Breaks between work,

Are super important to keep your brain in check and not twerk,

Crazy thoughts like, being a comic writer for Marvel,

Should be thrown away, lest it solidify like marble,

It is what it is,

Real jobs don't give you bliss,

It pays your bills,

And will someday let you write a handsome will,

So keep those crazy thoughts aside,

Order some butter chicken side by side,

And get back to work, 

After a substantial break, 

So that you don't break,

You can always hit the brakes,

When things start to fly over your head,

So that you can come back feeling refreshed and keep going ahead. 

Chennai's Scorching Summer

Both my laptop and I are giving up,

We're shutting down,

Electronically and mentally,

The air conditioning is turned on periodically,

Once, every half hour,

My nose turns a bright shade of red by the end of every hour,

I closely resemble Rudolph,

With my brains chewed-off,

There's work and there's work calls,

How I have to attend them all,

In this scorching heat,

Has me feeling beat,

Functioning on will power,

And brain power,

The body has clearly given up,

With the temperatures constantly soaring up,

A rain would do us good,

It would instanantly cool down our hood. 

My Dearest Poopie in Heaven

What a privilege to have known you,

And to be loved by you,

As I narrate our 13 year old saga,

From start to finish, my mind still goes gaga,

Over the crazy memories we created,

We hardly ever waited,

To action one impulsive decision to the next,

Everything felt like a test,

That we aced with flying colours,

Of course there were moments I hated you, but we always found cover,

In each other's comforting presence,

You were the calm to my storm, my vanilla essence,

As I look back on the life we led,

I can proudly raise my head,

And confirm, I'm not hard to be loved,

I was once somebody's beloved,

Sadly, all good things come to an end,

In death, we found our bend,

But I'll always hold on to you,

During the moments I feel blue.

My Mum, the Badass

My mother is my biggest critic and cheerleader. She is the epitome of the phrase "getting your ass handed to you". 

A typical conversation between her and me, goes like this -

"Maa, what tattoo should I get this year?", I ask.

Pat comes the reply, "Stop being such a wannabe Gayu."

"Oh gosh, I'm drunk", I announce after one shot of sweet liquor

"Who told you to drink so fast? Such a mallu you are.", she declares.

I think the only time I've ever seen my mother crumble, was when I lost the love of my life and for the first time ever, she wasn't able to help.

As I spiralled out, she let me be and when I drowned myself at work, she once again let me be. 

She's mostly just let me be, a wild child in control of my life. She's trusted me with everything except feeding her grandson. That's where she draws the line and yanks the plate out of my hand, to stuff his face with food.

A tough cookie on the outside and soft as gelato on the inside, that's my mum. My voice of reason, when I want to listen to reason. 

My mother gets me like no one else in the world. I'll always be Mumma's girl, firstly and lastly. 

Mothers

Amma has many names,

Ammumma, kunjamma, chechi, each one of these women have claim,

To the tiny human beings at home,

These ladies feel like home,

Disagreements are aplenty,

But they're the voice of reason in your head, way before you're twenty,

So all your thoughts, however old or new,

They dinned into you, way before you flew,

Out of your cosy nest,

They only want what's best,

For you and the tiny humans you made,

They played,

An active role in making you a great mom too,

How else did you manage to put two and two,

When bones were crushed,

And a tiny human you flushed,

Mothers, they know only how to love,

Their warmth and affection, snug as a glove.

Theobroma Brownies

Theobroma brownies, will always be a slice of home,

It was the one thing that poopie picked up for me, everytime my mouth had foam,

I can't remember the number of relationship disputes,

And marital disputes,

This sugary wonder has helped pacify,

So everytime I bite into one now, I sigh,

Those wonderful memories,

Come flashing to my mind, like well preserved documentaries,

Of course sugar and romance, go hand in hand,

Fowl tempers instantly jammed,

Every argument forgotten,

Bitter feelings quickly trodden,

Perhaps Theobroma brownies represent poopie,

Or they remind me of Bombay, either way, I instantly feel less droopie,

What a story that was,

It still makes me pause,

Greatful for the love and the brownies,

It makes me forget all my frownies. 

Migraine Headaches

I truly want to believe age is just a number,

But my head stands out like a sore member,

A three day long migraine,

That's grinding my brain,

To total pulp,

All i can do is yelp,

There's only so much shut eye, I can pull,

In the middle of a working day, when there's hardly a lull,

I blame my overthinking,

My thoughts have thoughts, some have me soaring, some sinking,

My head is a dark place,

There's simply no space,

For light,

My thoughts swifty boarding flight after flight,

There's no slowing down the voices,

Or drowning them with white noises,

Day #4 of of the migraine is underway,

I wish there was a way,

To ease the throbbing,

My peace of mind, it's officially robbing.

Mondays

The only consolation to a Monday,

Is looking at the tired faces of fellow colleagues, who slept all through Sunday,

We share this misery,

And that bond keeps our Monday battery,

Recharged, until a Wednesday,

Then we wait for Friday,

When it's time for a much needed drink,

Glasses are drowned without too much of a wink,

Time for the weekend,

The bliss lasts till the very end,

Of Sunday,

And then it's Monday,

Once again,

Back to the grind, over and over again,

Until the day we die, 

Because life is one big sigh.

Curveballs

Life throws enough curveballs,

For us to be bawling out our eyeballs,

But tears don't make sense,

It only makes you feel dense,

You need to eject fast,

Anything that was meant to last,

Would never have you in tears in the first place,

So just continue to chase,

Love, peace and light,

You'll find it in all the places and people who are right,

You know who they are,

Continue holding yourself up, erase that silly scar,

You've got this,

To be alive is bliss,

You know this more than anyone else,

In the near future, all this will make complete sense. 

My Baby Ghost

Baby ghosts are real,

Their sudden presence, makes you squeal,

This is a real story,

And it's about to get gory,

As I stir the contents of my coffee mug,

I'm caught in a sudden waist-down hug,

Just as I lodge an omlette in my mouth,

My baby ghost's face is next to mine, in a pout,

I step out of the shower,

And he's doing a little hover,

The nights are wild,

His baby voice, far from mild,

In competition with the steady humming of the a/c,

His steady flow of questions, as expansive as the sea,

When the natter stops,

By hopefully 9pm tops,

You know your day has officially ended,

Another day when your brain was bended,

In ways you didn't know it could bend,

But we've reach the end,

Of another day,

Tommorow, my baby ghost, will once again, have a lot to say. 

The Importance of Men

Whether you want to admit it or not, men are very important in a woman's life. They shape her personality, outlook towards life and give her the courage to go out into the world and achieve impossible feats.

I'm grateful to be surrounded by all the strong men in my life - my father, my brother, my late grandfather, and even my stubborn little son.

I'm either constantly fighting with all of them or agreeing to everything they say. There's no in-between. I haven't taken a single life changing decision without consulting with them first. 

While my late grandfather applauded my little victories loudly, my father pushes me to do better every day, my brother tries very hard to teach me diplomacy and my little boy firmly stands his ground when we have a disagreement at home.

Perhaps my brain has been transformed into a pressure cooker of sorts or I've moulded myself into a lean, mean, fighting machine. (Just going to chuckle for 10 solid seconds in my head now).

As I was saying, it's extremely important as a woman to have some sort of a working relationship with all the men in your life. They're bold, fearless and strong. Those are values we must definitely imbibe in our lives as well. 

I've been told by my closest girlfriends that I'm in my masculine energy more than my feminine, especially since my husband passed away over 3 years ago. I honestly don't see how that's a bad thing. 

To all the strong men in our lives, let's cheer them everyday and give them a genuine listen, whenever they make sense of course.

Rejection is Redirection

Butter chicken is best paired with naan,

It's creamy, luscious and full of flavour, very different from mutton raan,

Try mixing both meats,

And it may not be palatable to eat,

Why shrink or expand yourself to a raan,

When you know your perfect pairing is with the naan,

Be yourself, whoever that may be,

A social bee,

Or a blunt, heart permanently on the sleeves,

In your face, rock-solid, oak tree,

I'm obviously not talking about food,

I'm simply channeling my current mood,

Which is to either sit and brood,

Or overthink, until my brain tells me, "how rude,"

So I'm just going to accept this rejection,

Like the luscious butter chicken that I am and quickly move in another direction. 

The Ups & Downs of Grief

Time was all it took,

To change my outlook,

On death and grief,

Our time together was far from brief,

When a reminder of him pops up,

It no longer blows up,

I felt all my feelings,

The good, the bad and the ugly, and that was the secret to my healing,

He's most definitely at peace,

Because my heart feels at ease,

I can only be grateful for all that love,

From up above,

I know he's probably stalking the life out of mine-me and me,

And hopefully everything he witnesses fills him with glee.

The Romantics

I wonder why romantics are called fools,

To open up your heart that wide, is in reality very very cool,

There's a 50% chance of meeting the love of your life,

And there's a 50% chance of your life going up in smoke and strife,

This doesn't stop the romantics though,

To keep going with the flow,

I'm convinced it's the ones of us with a broken heart,

That always wants to stay put and not dart,

We don't give up without a fight,

Until the very end is at sight,

To keep showing up, 

And never giving up,

Despite the very obvious cracks,

I think that's courage, to it's very max,

Doesn't hurt to be born into a family of fighters,

Each disappointing chapter, only makes me brighter,

I'm going to unburden my heart now,

Release and allow,

The memories to become a distant dream,

You did good heart, we make a great team.

Breathe In and Breathe Out

Things that are beyond your control,

Shouldn't make you want to crawl into a dark hole,

You gave it your best,

Now let it rest,

That's all you can do,

There's no need to feel blue,

Knowing that you gave it your all,

You stood tall,

During the good times and bad,

Especially the bad,

Now let go,

However slow,

You've been through worse,

Your feelings of disappointment are not a curse,

It just shows, your heart is still wide open,

Despite it being broken,

Chin up,

Rise up,

This too shall pass,

This sinking feeling you shall surpass.

Shallow

Strange this generation,

That keeps running away at the sight and smell of a foundation,

Everything is fun and games,

As long as jokes are being cracked, however lame,

The moment seriousness creeps in,

They choose to throw everything into the bin,

This shallow generation, with their petty games,

They'd rather throw everything into flames,

Than open their hearts,

And play their part,

The whole experience makes me feel numb,

But I know it was'nt dumb,

To have felt everything that I did,

I'll always be this person, unabashed and true, zero constricting lids,

This was clearly not my story,

This burden I must not carry.

Home Alone

Summers are the worst,

Not only do pimples form and burst,

It's also the time that the fam,

Abandons me to do their own jam,

They go on exciting holidays,

Leaving me to my devices and the blazing heat of May,

I'll miss my little bun,

And his sharp shooting mouth, ruthless as a gun,

As he kept crawling all over me,

In the middle of my morning stretches, his face full of glee,

I realised how empty my house would be,

My favourite three,

Go on exotic vacations, year after year,

As I'm left all alone, with no listening ears.

Extra

A Margherita pizza with extra cheese,

Would you eat that or go jeez?

If I had to describe myself as food, 

I'd be the extra on every dish, isn't that good?

I'm always all in or nothing,

Casual is not my thing,

I don't play around,

Or sit around,

My affections are loud,

My actions proud,

I'd move mountains for you,

Or completely back away if I realise none of it was true,

I'm not your prince charming who'd magically appear with your glass shoe,

If you pull a Cinderalla on me, I'd just wonder what I ever did to you,

For pretending to be dead, when you're very much alive,

Every shitty experience only makes me want to thrive,

I'll always continue to never be a ghost,

Closure to all, is a skill that I can brag about and boast,

Even your enemies deserve space in your heart,

I know I've converted most of mine into art,

Farewell dear ghost,

All those memories I've burnt to char and toast,

None of it was real,

And that was always the deal,

I get it now,

I wish I could have seen through it then, somehow.

Parallel Reality

How cool would it be, if I had to fight a Mind Flayer,

Instead, I'm a word document slayer,

How exciting, if I had to enter the Upside Down,

Instead in work, I drown,

How I wish, I could have a conversation with Vecna, with "Running up that hills", in the background,

Instead, I'm home-bound,

If I was Eleven, I'd eat fat-free eggnogs,

Be super cool, but still have all that brain fog,

I'd cycle all around Hawkins, keep secrets from adults,

And save the world, as a result,

Anywhere but here,

For Jim Hopper, I'll always cheer,

I'm clearly waiting for the next season,

Those imaginary demons,

I can't wait to see,

From reality, I just want to flee. 

Impossible Love Stories

Still a believer of impossible love stories,

Although at times, it's the root cause of our worries,

But love is messy and hard,

You either emerge out of the experience more loved or scarred,

Being afraid to open up,

Will only have you feeling blown-up,

There are no half-baked efforts in love,

You either give,

Or move out,

If you are in doubt,

It's mostly likely not love,

The feeling is crystal clear and heavenly, like it's been sent straight from up above,

Still a believer of impossible love stories,

For I've lived and witnessed it, in all it's pitfalls and glories.

Swimmer Concerns

My biggest fear as a swimmer,

Is that my bits and bobs will pop out as unpleasant glimmers,

Straps are pulled tight,

At atrocious heights,

Still, one swift movement,

Is enough for something to gush out, from the back or the front,

My mortal fear, 

And mind's drear,

Is that I'll do an unconscious skinny dip,

With a tiny slip of the hip,

The ogling eyes are plenty,

As any woman swimmer would confirm without much frenzy,

Top that with some skin show,

And I would definitely feel low,

While this worry, doesn't occupy too much of my mind's space,

It definitely gives my brain a chase.

Single Mum

Being a single mum,

Means having absolutely no time to feel glum,

There's lots to do,

And wrap up without further ado,

It's double the love,

Bursting out of this burgeoning glove,

"I'll love you as long as I'm a baby,"

"Once I'm grown up, I'll love you maybe,"

The intensity of love and hate,

Are handed to me in equal amounts on a scathing plate,

Sometimes I'm the meanest,

At other times, I'm the nicest,

There's simply no in-between, 

For my not so little bean,

Wild as a rabbit,

Creating a mess is his habit,

Houses are destroyed, bones are broken,

My various moods are awoken,

Ranging from a calm buddha to a frenzied dragon,

All in a day's work for mumma and baby dragon.

Lucid Dreams

Lucid my dreams,

With way too many plot twists and screams,

I dreamt of hitting a bar last night,

With a girlfriend by my sight,

She got stood up by a guy,

And began throwing up shortly, saying why why why,

Soon, the bar was filled with ghosts,

We braved the night without attempting a bolt,

In the morning, I jumped into a cab,

My friend strangely was nowhere to be found, an exciting day was soon to be had,

The chatty driver, took me to temples all over town,

His career choices made me frown,

We swapped numbers by night,

Soon I was home, feeling fresh and bright,

I walked into my house,

To see my toxic ex-boss looking like a mouse,

Glancing at her face, 

Instantly made me flinch and brace,

Before I knew it,

I was wide awake, what a crazy dream, with every element of a movie script in place. 

Little Me

Maamaa you had a happy childhood,

Mine is tough and not good,

Declared my six year old,

My flood of happy memories, instantly took hold,

Round little me,

As happy as a bee,

Running around wild and naked,

No care in the world and always dedicated,

To thulping down mountains of food,

Life was good,

I called myself the princess of Hemagiri,

And placed a hotpot stand on my head, to solidify that theory,

The youngest on both sides,

I suppose, that had it's own downside,

I had to bite ankles to get attention,

In hindsight, no wonder most of my cousins didn't have a good impression,

Of me,

Even though I was as vibrant as the sea,

Is what I'd like to believe,

It's all in the past now, but all that love stays intact and will most definitely not leave,

I admit, I was a royal pain in everyone's ass,

But I'd like to assume, my personality now is absolutely first class. 

My Terrible Handwriting and I

It began with love notes for my grandmother,

When I took to writing like no other,

In poetry I found solace,

Somehow my emotions looked flawless,

On scribbled paper notes,

I used the pencil as my throat,

Everything felt right,

When pencil touched paper and my imagination took flight,

Until, I had to write exams,

All my thoughts I had to cram,

On a single sheet,

My fingers met their defeat,

My rabid thoughts and writing speed, didn't match, 

And my teachers just gave my answers a scratch,

"Illegible, hard to read,"

"Deserves to be scrunched up and shred,"

I still have the most terrible handwriting,

Thank heavens for laptops which ensures no one is left crying,

No one is subject to my scribbles anymore,

Truth be told, it's worse than before.

Rebel With/Without a Cause

The flipside of being a rebel without a cause,

Is that we don't stop or take pause,

We trust too easily, we blabber endlessly,

And we give recklessly,

The world is black and white,

Simply no areas of grey, in our sight,

We're simple souls,

We don't do casual strolls,

We're focused and fixed,

Factory settings completely pre-mixed,

We fit no moulds, we fight the good fight,

And take nothing light,

We're fearless, we're bold,

With hearts of pure gold,

We're too much for some,

And just right for our closest bum-chums,

Definitely, the life of every party,

Our laughs are loud and hearty,

This is us, this is me,

As real as can be. 

Naadan Fried Chicken

That distinct aroma of Kerala fried chicken,

Instantly makes my heart quicken,

A scrumptious red,

On a lush coconut bed,

The crunch of the coconut mixed with aromatic spice,

Makes you want to have it thrice,

Team that with porotta,

End that meal with sapota,

Just kidding, end it with a huge blob of icecream,

And that's your happiness scheme,

For life,

Just you and your porotta with fried chicken, and a dash of icecream served as a big fat slice,

Burp,

And slurp. 

The Post Lunch Killer

The break between lunch and dinner,

Puts my head and tummy on a spinner,

Eat, eat, eat, seduces my now tiny tum,

It's going to be yum, yum, yum,

She croons, 

Like a saucy little goon,

For she knows the key to my heart,

Is through art,

Not the inedible kind,

The one that makes my teeth grind,

This love-hate relationship with food,

Sometimes makes me brood,

On most days I rein in my tum,

But the killer gap between lunch and dinner, makes her hum,

This fight i must win,

Every single day, so that my chin,

Stays as one,

And not as a shapeless, gooey bun,

I will not go back to being a little ball,

And for that I'll put up every single wall,

Shoo and scram little tum,

Let's stay little and not listen to your crazy, crazy hum.

My Little Boy

My little boy, with a big mouth,

Sometimes your words can go south,

But it's better to speak up and live your truth,

Even if you sound like a brute,

You'll break hearts and probably get yours broken too,

For human beings are strange creatures, even I still don't have a clue,

But love with all your might,

Refuse to go silently into the night,

People will come and go,

The right ones will refuse to let go,

So find your tribe,

They will listen to you with zero jibes,

The world can be cruel and unforgiving,

Rise above the white noise and remain giving,

Keep an open heart and mind,

Always be kind,

Smile bright and laugh loud,

Temporary are dark clouds,

We're fighters, you and I,

We're ready to face tsunamis in the eye. 

Tears

There is strength in tears,

For it wipes away all your fears,

A good cry session,

Releases all agression,

You shed skin,

Your mood eventually elevates and it's a win-win,

After excercise, tears are a great stress buster,

It works as a magical duster,

The moment your brain goes back to a memory,

You feel temporary misery,

But your tears have already done the job,

Of easing your heart's painful throb,

So cry and cry,

Without questioning why,

It's the doorway to happiness,

And helps you put away all the nastiness. 

Happy Endings

There's something beautiful yet sad,

When endings aren't too bad,

Parting with a joke,

Perhaps all is well and not up in smoke,

Not knowing that it would be the last time,

For endings always happen with no reason or rhyme,

The least you can do is end well,

There's no need to go into a shell,

One ending, 

Always leads to another beginning,

So let the days pass,

Just live and continue being a badass,

This was not your story to write,

Although for fleeting moments it felt right,

Let go, let go,

And before you know it, your heart will stop being in such a row.

Erase

An erase button for the brain,

To stop the throbbing of your heart's veins,

How nice it would have been,

To not feel so many prickling pins,

Feeling less

Is the easiest way to avoid being a mess,

The eyes a dam,

It keeps your whole body in a jam,

The memories don't stop,

And you rewind everything non-stop,

There's nothing you can do,

Except for feeling blue,

The sun will shine again,

Until then it's okay to let your eyes rain.

Happy Women's Day

On the eve of International Women's Day,

I have many things to say,

Starting with how we begin our mornings in a haze,

We wake up feeling refreshed or still in a daze,

We'd love to sleep, 

But everyone around us would begin to weep,

School tiffin and prep,

There's no time to fret,

So off we bounce from our beds,

And into the kitchen we head,

Once we bid farewell to our tiny humans,

We squeeze in a brisk workout for ourselves to start feeling more human,

Work takes over,

And we quickly switchover,

Shedding away the homemaker title to that of hustler,

Ideas are thrown and rustled with, our brains in a tussle,

We absorb as much knowledge as we can,

And before we know it, homework has begun,

Time to shift gears again,

Trying our best to be calm like Zens,

Mother, colleague, daughter and friend,

There's just no end,

To the title you can give a woman,

She's so many people all wrapped in one.

Aamchi Mumbai

Aamchi Mumbai, a city that gave me life and death. A city where my pockets were always empty but my heart was full. Poha, sabudana khichdi, vada pav, Bombay's version of sambaar and dosa. I loved it all. 

I became a pro with public transport. I caught trains and buses and share autos like a villain. I gobbled down batata vadas like a lizard sucking in bugs. One flick of the tongue and everything was gone. 

I found my sense of self. I quickly discovered my likes and dislikes. Friends were a dime a dozen, perhaps I was blessed, perhaps it was my love for people or the fact that Mumbaikars are so lovable, you can't help but befriend them. 

I might have left the city over three years ago, but my heart still craves for sabudana khichdi and the occasional long drives all the way upto Churchgate and Bandra to sip on San Churro's hot chocolate or Kyanis to stuff my face with way too many puffs, cutlets and pastries. 

You can't forget Bombay, whether you spent close to a decade there or even a few days. The city has a way of sneaking up in your head, when you least expect it. 

Nighttime Madness

Can we get a pet lizard mommy?

We can name him Tommy,

Declared the little devil,

His energy level,

At an all time high,

His batteries supercharged with high voltage supply,

May have been the Horlicks,

I thought, as I suddenly felt a little lick,

On my nose,

You taste like cotton candy, from this close,

Declared the silly goose,

I am the eater of boogies and delicious nosey juice,

Yum, yum mommy,

Don't forget about Tommy.

The Mundanity of Life

The mundanity of life,

Cuts you like a knife,

Wake up, work, sleep,

Repeat and try not to weep,

I'm suddenly off carbs and sweets,

My body is no longer moving to a rhythmic beat,

Fevers once in two weeks,

My favourite swims, make me weak,

I am bored,

My life looks and feels as dull as a blackboard,

Do I need to travel?

And allow my mind to unravel,

The beauty of life, beyond my four walls,

Right now, my life is on slo-mo, practically a crawl,

More, more, more, my heart screams for more,

I definitely need to step out more,

My life can't be this grind of 9-6,

Dull and predictable like a ready to eat pack of breakfast mix. 

Take Charge

The best place for kheema, is on a plate, to be eaten,

Invite that chaos into your life and get ready to be beaten,

Intentions have to be clear,

Otherwise it's best to throw it out of your ears,

From your mind and heart too,

For it takes two,

To create a symphony,

So best to throw out the phonies,

Wisen up to the flakes,

All they do is take and take,

So firmly close all doors,

Take charge of your life's oars,

You're the captain of this ship,

You don't need to be stuck to any hip,

Your life may be lonely at times,

But there is peace and beauty in your solo climb,

You've got this,

'Cos you're a badass sis.

Lap of Love

Ours is not a story of survival,

Nor was it of revival,

It was a love story,

And we're living it everyday, in all it's glory,

While we abruptly lost one,

We gained people by the ton,

This army of love,

That took us in and sheltered us in their cozy glove,

We lapped it up,

Picked ourselves up,

And wrote our happy beginning,

We saw light piercing through with one ending,

And we ran towards it,

With all our might,

The darkness still flits around,

But we choose everyday, to be drowned,

In love,

Lots and lots of warm cozy love. 

Voices

We live in a world,

Where emotions aren't allowed to unfurl,

Feel too little,

You're not belittled,

Feel too much,

And you're suddenly too much,

But we're humans,

Weren't we created to feel all shades of the season?

A song makes me cry,

And certain foods remind me of home, don't ask me why,

This is me,

And I'd like to just be,

With all my range of emotions,

I'm happy living with the commotion,

I wouldn't be any other way,

Come night or day.