I read about traditions in many families, see them on the television. People have traditions for holidays, for birthdays, where family gets together and does the same thing every year. Some cook a certain meal, some watch a certain film, some play a certain game or just sing a certain song.

During every festive season, I watch my family, having small arguments, always being a mess and not figuring it out, someone crying, people fighting with each other and wonder if we are broken and try to figure out why don’t we have any traditions. Am I missing out on a lot of happiness?

My dad teases my sister when she is making rangoli and she always gets mad. Me and my dad go on a shopping run at the last minute and have some snacks while buying sweets, and get so full that we are never able to have the lunch that mom cooked at home. During the pooja, my brother, I and my mom always start laughing uncontrollably and get scolded by dad. Somebody is always dying for the pooja to get over soon so they can go downstairs to their friends.

It all appeared broken to me at first, but now I’ve started to wonder, there’s a pattern in this chaos, there’s some playfulness in the things that seem a bit unhappy. And maybe that’s our tradition.



The cool winter breeze has started knocking on my door. Sudden chills run down my spine every now and then. I get goosebumps without getting scared. The season I hate the most and yet enjoy the most is almost here.

As if I was not lazy enough, winters make me 10 times more lazy. Stuffed inside hundreds of clothes, my range of motion is limited and my will power is almost non existent. I want to stay buried inside my blanket, or a fortress of blankets and pillows, all day long. Hibernation should not be limited to just animals.

Even though I don’t exactly celebrate Christmas as I follow a different religion, Christmas feels are all around. My playlist slowly shifts focus from random songs to requesting Santa for a light blue convertible, or convincing my sister to build a snowman.

Warm, chocolaty drinks, come into my dreams and eventually in my hands. I am transported to all those winters that I really enjoyed with my friends and families. Lying in my bed, I begin to wonder how did I used to go to school or college in such a weather, how did I used to study. Work seems impossible to get to.

I have my favourite sweaters, that I cannot part ways with even though they surprise me with shredded threads. They smell different, of a different place & time, of a different me. Only they are able to satiate the chills that I feel, and without them I am lost.

I dread how I will survive the coming months, yet I always find myself longing for more winter clothes. I have to ask my sister and friends to not let me buy another sweater and yet my heart just keeps leaping out of my body every time I lay eyes on one. I look a lot fatter than I am because of so many layers and yet I feel the smartest in winter clothes. What kind of game is that?

I am gonna complain every minute of every day for the entire season and yet miss this cozy season a little when it’s all over.

Am I evil?

You talk about heroes, the ones who defended their countries, fought for the right cause. You praise them, honour them, call them martyrs.

But me? I am just a villain for you. I am the one that they fought. You rejoice if someone like me dies. I am cursed, I am called a killer, a monster.

But I was not always a killer. I was a boy once, just like your heroes. I dreamed about serving my country, serving my people, bringing honour to my parents. I just wanted to do good by the people that I knew. What it my fault that I was never shown the other side of the coin? That I was always taught that we are to kill the weak and reign over them? That I was told I will be called a martyr too if I gave my life for the cause, but never knew that I could question that cause itself?

I had doubts when they told me it was okay to kill the innocent as they are collateral damage. I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. But when I tried to look into the eyes of other soldiers in training with me, I saw that they were just looking ahead at the goal, so I swallowed my inhibitions and decided to move forward as well, because weak hearted people cannot be a part of this cause.

I was scared when I held a gun for the first time, when I uttered a killing spell for the first time. My hands were shaking, my eyes were watery. I still questioned myself and the cause. But when I looked around, they were killing my people too, in revolt. Or atleast that is what I was shown. And hence I wiped my tears and fired that gun, let that spell kill the innocent.

Even though I only followed orders like a machine, having blood of the innocent on my hands gives me nightmares. But I am too deep in this maze and I cannot get out. I am too scared to get out. I am not sure if I know any better. I wish I could turn back time and ask them if what we were doing was right. But I am slowly turning into a heartless person as that is the only way I can survive not letting others survive.

If I die, you’ll not call me a martyr. You’ll say I had a choice. But don’t undermine my circumstances that led me to this. I am truly sorry, and I wish I could have taken a different route. Maybe in another lifetime I’ll truly be a martyr.

A soldier fighting from the evil’s side

Secret love

We would steal glances the entire day because there is a thrill in knowing something, doing something, and keeping it hidden from the whole world.
We would try to stand together in the crowded spaces, and let our fingers graze each other, just a smidge, so as to not raise suspicion.
Often, we would even hold hands under the table but hurriedly let go of it, when someone walked by.

The entire thing felt like a build up.
We would be igniting fire inside each other, birthing a monster, which would ravage the other at night.
Craving for more all the while, just to consume everything in the evening.
A dangerous game to play before dusk, only to relish in the victory till the end of the dawn.

We would look at each other the entire night, our naked truths, peering into each other’s souls. We had nothing to hide from each other.
We would be entwined in each other’s arms, not relinquishing, because we were afraid of the separation that the next day would bring.
We would talk, kiss, make love, laugh, sleep, but not let go.

Only to let go in the morning and do it all over again.

I am insecure

I am insecure
That what I feel is un-relatable
It is silly, weird
Will make people mock me
And so I keep my feelings bottled up inside

I am insecure
That what I say is never heard of
Nobody will value my opinion
I will be proven wrong and ridiculed
So I stayed taciturn

I am insecure
That what I write is not a piece of art
I don’t use fancy words
And nobody wants simplicity
So I keep a secret journal

I am insecure
That I am not special
But I am not common either
I don’t fit in with the society
So I became invisible.


My day starts and ends with screens. From phone to laptop to television, screens are all around me, making me disoriented. There is hardly any escape because I am stuck in my home.
I often wander to my balcony to escape it all, because that is the nearest place closest to nature. A perfect getaway from our box like apartments into the arms of the real world. In times like this, I try to take in every piece of nature city life can offer. I fill my ears with the music of the horns of the passing cars, the animals fighting over something or maybe just playing with each other. I take in the lush greenery of the flora, some on the streets, and some harboured in my balcony. I stare at the sky, the many shades of blue, the moving clouds, and feel myself flying away with them. I feel the breeze on my face and close my eyes. This is all I want, this is all I need.


What is poetry?

I cannot say with surety

Apparently it has something to do with a rhyme

And have deep sounding words like atrocious, wander or maybe thyme

Sometimes easy and sometimes difficult to comprehend

Sometimes meaninglessly talking about a new trend

Nevertheless it lets you have a look in the poet’s creative mind

Don’t look too much though, it’s possible that there is nothing much to find

I would actually go back and say that it’s just about putting rhyming things together

Willfully selecting less relevant words, making the meaning difficult to gather

Simple put, in reality it’s not that difficult a job

Just find the correct motivation, happiness, anger or something to help stifle a sob!

Sleepy yet sleepless

There are some nights when sleep simply evades me. I lie on my bed, tossing and turning, eyes tightly shut, my body perfectly positioned in the blanket, with one leg safely inside, and the other peaking out and softly curled on a pillow; one hand below the head, the other one over the pillow. But sleep won’t come. Just a couple of hours ago, I was so drowsy and tired that I could not wait to go to bed. I waited for the perfect moment, when my body cycle is used to falling asleep and I knew I wouldn’t have to focus a lot on it. I stopped using my phone 10 minutes before, knowing that it’s easier if the phone is kept aside atleast few minutes before going to bed. I took all the measures. But here I am, it’s been more than an hour and I cannot sleep.

I wasn’t thinking anything special today, I swear! Just the usual stuff. Trying to make plans of what I will do tomorrow, with the thoughts slowly drifting to whether I even wanted to go back to office and do that work. This slowly transformed into me coming up with plans of how I could do something else. But what else can I do? I need to have money for the lavish lifestyle I want. Point. Let’s make a list of the things I find interesting. Psychology sounds fun, but it might need a degree. People are posting a lot of dance videos on instagram these days and getting famous. But I can’t dance that well. Should I join dance classes? But all of them are atleast an hour away. I cannot manage to go to dance classes will all the office work I have pending. Now that is a vicious circle 😦

I decide there is no end to this. Let’s think about something else. Where do I want to travel next? Beaches are out of question, I am still trying really hard to get rid of the tan lines from the previous trip. Well it’s been long since I travelled north. I can visit mom and dad also while I’m there. But it will take a lot of planning, I am burdened with work. If I am planning to take a lot of leaves, why not go to Europe? That has always been a part of the plan. Ok Google, which country in Europe is best to be visited during summers? But whom all will I ask? Let’s ask the girls on the group, hear their opinion and then decide.

Hey! I haven’t talked to that friend in a long time. It would be weird to message though, we weren’t that good friends. I wonder why I haven’t seen her posts on Instagram. Let me just check. Oh there she is. Probably her posts didn’t get prioritized on my feed, given the plethora of meme pages I follow. Oh, this is a good meme. Let me send it to the set of people I share memes with the entire day, and that being the only conversation we have.

Ok! Now you really need to sleep. Just keep the damn phone down. Then randomly, out of nowhere, my mind tells me to think about my crush, like the last rite of the daily ritual. Was he really looking at me today or am I totally reading it all wrong, again? Was I being too obvious today though? I should have said something funnier when we sort of managed to talk today instead of being too philosophical. But I should be myself right? I shouldn’t say things just to impress. But did I dress properly today? Oh man I did dress really bad, why would he like me!! Light is faster than sound. Why was I worried about the jokes when I should have focused on the looks. He’ll be shallow if he does that but what do I care? I am anyway not getting ahead with this.

I promise now I’ll close my eyes, keep the phone down and not think about anything. I think I am falling asleep. Hurray!

Oh no!

A letter to the person I once loved

I don’t remember who you are anymore, nor do I remember the person who once loved you.

I don’t remember those good memories that we shared together, just those moments in which I hated you.

I don’t remember the feeling of blood rush when I was starting to fall in love with you, but I can easily relive the moments when I had the pangs of extreme anger over something that you said/did.

But I sometimes try to remember what it was like when I loved you…

I remember how you came before everything and everyone else for me,

I remember getting out of any gathering/outing if that meant another minute together with you.

I remember how a shy person like me could let her crazy out in front of you,

I remember how I had to tell you every minor detail of my day before falling asleep.

I remember laughing at your silly jokes and making you laugh too,

I remember our stupid innocent fights, and the big ones too, and how we always made up after that.

I remember not caring about the world while walking by your side, your hand in mine,

I remember how eating the same boring thing at the same boring restaurant with you every day was my idea of a perfect date,

I remember pouring out all my love for you in ink in the numerous letters I have written to you.

I remember crying my heart out when things started to go wary and when you refused to talk to me,

I remember waiting every night for your call and then crying myself to sleep,

I remember how that innocent love turned into something that tortured me day and night.

I remember finally giving up on our love after hundreds of tries to win you back,

I remember these things by the face of it but cannot recall the feelings behind them anymore,

I remember that I loved you once but I do not remember what it was like to love you anymore.