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.

Almost 38

38 years old in four days and I'll be celebrating by watching my 6 year old take stage as a Chinese narrator for his school play. The highlight of 2025 would probably be the moment my mother encouraged me to attend Ed Sheeran's concert. I blinked at her, with my mouth wide open. 

The same woman who strongly discouraged me from doing anything adventurous in life, was actually telling me to go live a little. 

As I watch the replay of Coldplay live in Ahmedabad via Disney+ Hotstar, I can't help but be instantly reminded of my late husband. Also a lead guitarist, whose dreams of playing on a stage as large as Coldplay's will forever remain unfulfilled.

I don't have the courage to physically attend a concert anywhere anymore, because the stage, the equipment and the screaming fans all remind me of him.

I proudly admitted to a close friend, just last week that I had forgotten all about my husband. How is he running in my head now, alongside Chris Martin's angelic voice?

I'd like to think of myself as more than a widow. There are other colours that fill my life. The darkest one of them all, I try my best to shake off every single day.

I pick myself up and keep moving forward for, what other choice do I have? Death is a part of life and life is a part of death.

For now, I'm happy to listen to Chris Martin croon whilst wiping away the occasional involuntary tear that's rolling down my cheeks.

Three Years

Three years since you've been gone,

Strangely life went on,

That's who I've become now - strange,

My moods have quite a range,

I'm happy and sad,

Glad and mad,

I didn't shed a single teardrop today,

Instead, I shooed them all, away,

I walked like a zombie,

And stayed awake in bed like a zombie,

December 6th, what a terrible day,

Thankfully, it's not here to stay,

One life of mine ended today,

My mind is a disarray,

Everything is a mess and it isn't,

I rearranged all the broken pieces with precision,

It's almost as if nothing shattered,

And my soul isn't battered,

I'll live and I'll love,

Even if I'm pushed and shoved,

This is me,

Rising above the debris,

All day,

Everyday. 

Kunafa Cake

Crisp on the outside,

Gooey on the inside,

Dubai's viral pistachio kunafa cake,

Causes quite a shake,

Inside your mouth and belly,

Your soul suddenly feels far from empty,

Like you waited all your life,

To have that cake, instantaneously wiping away all your strife,

Be Dubai's viral pistachio kunafa cake,

It's sure to keep early sleepers awake,

You crave for it, long after you've brushed your teeth,

You constantly dream of what lies underneath,

Layer after layer,

Made for him and her,

This cake is for everyone,

One bite and you'll share it with no one.

My Dearest Poopie

Someone asked me, why I'm still single,

I replied quickly, "I'm not in a rush to mingle,"

Had I met a man, who was half as nice as you,

I would feel less blue,

Someone called you my ex,

I almost hit him on the face with a chair, like a rabid T-Rex,

Someone asked me, if I'm still hung up on you,

"He was the love of my life" I replied, straight from the heart, truer than true,

While the concept of marriage is great,

I'm willing to wait,

For some version of you,

That still exists, from my point of you,

Until then, I'm happy to be single,

Reluctant to mingle.

Rocky Aur Rani

If you must love, love like Rocky,

If you want to be brash and cocky, 

Be as successful as Rani,

If you must create waves, be a Tsunami,

If you must be fearless,

Be fearless,

Like Rocky choosing Rani,

Every single day, whether it's rainy or balmy,

If you must eat mithai,

Eat so much boondi laddoo, that you can get a sugar high,

If you must get married,

Get married,

Next to a large ocean or lake,

Or at least next to a sprawling man-made lake,

Inside a palace,

Wear so much lace,

That you look like a vision,

Making kids envision,

Their wedding ensembles,

The entire event will be far from dull,

Just like Rocky aur Rani kii Prem Kahaani.