Revise Revise, until it sounds like music

A few days ago, I was talking to a friend of mine. She is a very smart person and I especially love talking about books with her. We were talking about how canonical poets used to edit their work very meticulously. So, I asked her whether she edits her poems afterwards. And she said yes. Now, there is a reason why I write it now. And her explanation has stuck with me.
She said that when we write poems, they are pure emotions. The raw emotions are best understood by you and no one else. Therefore, we need to edit our poems.
I guess, while we are in the process of editing those poems, we clear out the parts which are too personal. We can make our message more clear. And then make our poems mor universal. The sad part is, I haven't written poems in a while and to tell the truth, I really miss it. After writing a poem, I miss the exhiliration of seeing a poem in front of me that is truly mine, even though it is a product of raw emotion.
Maybe I should make a sincere effort to write now. And not just creative, but critical. Because to get into my masters course, I have to learn to write creatively.
PS: Tomorrow is the first LitSoc meeting since I became Prez. Yay! I hope it goes awesomely well!

Distance

I am in a place right now where everyone who is closest to me is far away. My parents live five countries away. My best friend lives in Chennai (Damn you, NIFT) and my other two best friends live in Bombay. And finally, my favourite boy in the whole world lives in Pune. And sometimes, it sucks. I love my friends here, more than life itself. But I realy do miss the former people so much. Phones just never seem enough sometimes. So much time passes before I get to see any of them. And it is risky. Because, you never know when they may drift apart. I am specially scared of losing my connection with my parents. Because they keep worrying about me. They worry that I will not be able to be stable here unless they I lose focus on them. Which is not true. I want to know everything about their day and life. I miss them so much sometimes its painful. But such is life. I have made a pact with Dad that when he retires, he and mom and shreya move in with me. And I think its a cool plan. As for Aru, she and I have been handling a LDR way before she moved to Chennai. She moved to Japan when I was six. We were together in Bombay for three years and then she moved to Dehra. And now Chennai. I was desperately hoping she would come to Delhi for college but its cool. Chennai will make her independent. And then we have decided we will become the coolest roomates EVER! Mister Awesome is far away. He is adorable and I wish we could do all those things that normal couples do. But I know we will be together one day.
Hence, when I finally get to live with everyone, my house will have:
My parents, Shreya's family, Mister Awesome, His mom, His nana-nani, Breezer, A lhasapso, Aru and her family. Yay!! This is a great assurance for the being alone for now. :)

Unititled again

This is about the strength that came from the inside and luminated my entire body. Carried me above and made me see the pitiless figure I had become. It took a suppression of self respect till it refused to be pushed down anymore. It rose, forced me rise and see myself in a new light. I will cry no more. No, I will not cry anymore.

Migration Phenomenon

Why do migratory birds come to India from Russia, every year? Don’t they know that they their home will get very cold for thousands of years? Why haven’t they still adapted to nature, their nature? Why are they refusing to adjust when the alternative is a lot of hard work? Flying thousands of miles to escape what their bodies could never adapt to, Darwin should be puzzled. Should one try to ‘draw’ an analogy from this fact? Or should it be left, because sometimes natural processes might not reflect life. I am still thinking of analogies. Maybe I don’t have enough experience.  Maybe, I don’t have enough knowledge to decipher this phenomenon in the right way. Maybe, I should fly out and attain both.

Luckiest Girl In The World

It is awful when you lose power over yourself, you are completely at the mercy of your emotions and they are bent to get the worst out of you. Yesterday was one of those days where, had I been left alone, I would've done something that future me would not be proud of.
After a traumatic phone call, I sat on my bed, completely broken. It was the worst feeling ever. I pressed the call button again but cut it. Again, and I disconnected. Then, I go up, went to the mirror, looked at myself and I thought. What would happen if this ends? Will I be able to survive it? And sadly, I had serious doubts on myself. It was then that I picked up my phone and I wrote, ' I am feeling really low right now. I need you. Just don't ask me what its about. Just make me happy.' I sent this to Arushi, Richa, Sanya, Saad, Bhavna, Pragya. And I am so glad, they were there to save my life!
Immediately after I sent the message, Sanya, my true love, called me and asked me to tell her what the problem was. When I refused, she again asked. Then she suggested that I get chocolate and go for a walk. I felt my mood lift up and I felt like there were people around me who love me. Her voice gave me a high! A much needed one, at that.
Then Sadaf texted and asked me if I wanted to meet up. I asked her if she would come to my hostel. She said, 'I am almost there'. So true? No baby, you are always there.
Bhavna called as I was texting Saad. She asked me talk, I didnt. She then tried to make me laugh, suggesting ways to be happy. She diverted my mind. Made things seem easier. Life seemed lesser trying.
Saad came, with her incessant nonsense, much neeeded by me that time. And yay!
Richa started texting me. Said the things I needed to hear. Told me that I will make her proud someday.

Later, in the hostel, my two new found soul-ies, Isha and Amishi made things like a cake walk. They make me talk, don't make stupid assumptions. And listen. Yesterday, Isha truly remarked, 'Where does all that feminism go when you are getting hurt this way?'

When your self esteem is pushed into the ground, there is no other option for it but to rise up. I guess, I don't have to take shit anymore. I will be alright no matter what happens. I have people who truly love me. And that GOD for that. :)

Can I Make You Love Me Again, Daddy

I know what I did hurt you,

And I know you will find it hard to trust me again.

But believe me when I say that,

I can raise this baby alone.



It is true that I do not know

What it takes to raise a child.

But when I heard that there is

A human growing inside me,

I no longer remained a child.



No, it was not done in the heat of passion,

I agree this is not how it was meant to be.

But there no way I am going to let

this baby suffer for the mistake made by me.



Won’t I regret this decision later?

Maybe I will, maybe I will not.

It is future still,

Even in this case, no one knows.



But for now I know that

I just cannot be selfish

Nor can i let everyone else decide

Whether I am ready to have a child.





I know it will be hard, Daddy

But as long as I know you still love me

And believe that I can do this

Then maybe, I will be able to do it right

And show this child, a better world.

A Sonnet spoke to Moi?

‘I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe;

...Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow

Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned brain.

...’fool,’ said my Muse to me, ‘look in thy heart and write.’’

Who knew that I would find Sir Philip Sidney to understand the pain of a writer? These are such beautiful words, carefully explaining the woes of a creative writer who is going through a writer’s block. These lines I have borrowed from the first sonnet of ‘Astrophil and Stella’. This sonnet is dedicated to Stella. The poet wants to write something that will impress her intelligence and through this he hopes to win her grace. It is in this process that he wants to compose a piece of writing but cannot because his creativity is exhausted for now. He is completely de-motivated and he cannot find inspiration to write. He calls his brain ‘sun-burned’ because it is parched and dry with ideas. The poet has tried to seek inspiration from other writer’s works with no results. And then suddenly, as if with a miracle, his ‘Muse’ tells him to write whatever he feels from his heart. This is to show that Stella is in his heart and that she is the motive for his writing. She inspires him. And that is the most beautiful aspect of this sonnet.

But what makes me think is that why was I attracted to the aspect of the sonnet dealing with the writer and his woes. I have been debating this question in my mind for a long time now: can creativity be exhausted? Will not a piece of work re-create itself later if you don’t write it down at the same moment? Is imagination this fickle? And then, how long can you write about things that are close to your heart. In my understanding, the only way you can do this is by being multi-faceted. This way you have a range of things to write about and yet never worry about your words tiring out. I am still thinking about this problem. From what I have heard, these are very hard to write and harder to study. But for now I am really excited because I understood a sonnet. Yay!

Still Capable of Immaturity

'One Day dot dot dot' is my phrase,

I am a compulsive dreamer

I can sit in a crowd and daze

With open eyes, I can sleep to reality.

I like this line,

sadly it didn't rhyme.

Fuck practicality

and the seemingly perfect poem.

I will create my own world

with lots of trees and breezy air.

Where I can sit outdoors and write.

In my world, 

I will write all the time,

there will be no block 

Each drop of my blood

will create a prose of its own.

I will create my own world.

Coming?

I. Am. Stone.

Even when you do nothing wrong, 

I will somehow, find a reason to

not bridge the gap.

Babe, its my loss.

Not yours.

You probably deserve,

someone way better than me.

You know who you are. Just know, that I will always care about you.

De-Possesing

Fingers tighten
Choking you with my love,
I will feed into what you feel,
prey into your affections.
Make me stop
Before I lose
the one thing
that I honestly loved.

Rebound

Try so hard to find myself.

But this is Newton’s third law.

Action reaction action.

No point in action.

There will only be a reaction.

Being alone for a while might just help.

Try so hard to find myself.

And this is indeed,

Newton’s third law.

Seems more like a 

Boomerang now.

Sigh.

A Word I Like

I am
forcing a poem
out of
the corner
of my brain.
I am
penning down
unmeditated words.
I am
soul-less
I am
thankless.
I am
Jazz up
my everything
somehow.

Why so serious?

Whenever I sit to Write WRITE, I am always, in my brain compelled to come up with something deep. Something that will make sense only to the smart-asses and others who don't understand will marvel, open-mouth-in-awe of my writing style. That hasn't happened yet but what it brings me to is a very important question. Why literature is considered the domain of the 'Intellectual'? Why isn't a poem by, say Langston Hughes comparable to a song by John Legend and why can't I critically analyse both, together? This is a debate that I am dealing with. I'll explain why it is a debate in the first place.


I always, ALWAYS want to write something highly intelligent. Not because I want to sound smart. But because I want to appear smart in front of 'certain intellectual' people. The fact that I write something that is not just appreciated but deliberated upon is my dream. But till that time, why can't I reconcile with the fact that it is OK to write stuff that doesn't sound intelligent or smart. It is wrong for me to use the word 'Reconcile'. Simply because these are the things that make me who I am, in this present moment. So, if I don't respect the present ME, who else will?


Now I am realizing that it is completely alright if I choose to make my writing sound like I am a student in college. Of course it is alright! And also, it is completely okay if I write about stuff I am pre-occupied with. Like College and Friends, and FUTURE and Mr. Awesome.


Right? :O

Take a bow, Martin Luther King.

I’ve a dream, said He.



Little did he know,


That it would echo so high.


So many dreams,


Fuelled by this one simple thought.


I’ve a dream, said He.


Tears of happiness,


Of long forgotten Pride


Rejuvenated, when


I’ve a dream, said He.


His dream lives on


In this world today.


When every person


Gets the strength


To carry on.


Far away,


In this land,


He inspires me.


Dream on child, steadfastly.


I’ve a Dream, said He.

Death: Partial Release

Death, come touch me.

Ever so softly.

Death, only you can show me.

I want to let go, and

See my life's worth. 

I want to start afresh.

I want to be free.

There are only so many

Emotions that

Humans can face.

I've had my share.

Take me with you,

for a split second.

I don't think

I can go on

with all these biases 

In my heart.

You can stretch the second

As long as you want.

I don't want to live anyway.

.

Rain On Me

Skin,
is wet
Its too
beautiful
to be true.
The
overwhelming
surge
of colours.
Free
to look.
Anywhere.
Rain
on my face
Taste
on
my tongue.
Earthy.
How is it
Earthy?
Not time
for questions.
Just
be in
the moment.
I
want to
take off
and wear
your wetness
instead.
Don't
stop till
I
am satiated.
I
feel free.
Finally.

Untitled

Bring me back, Virginia

Like you did in the past.

Life will be difficult, I know

But I don't want to be dragged in the whole

The fire you lit, Eliot

Help me 

I can't fight anymore

Mind is confused

Society was never kind

Especially to people like us

I know you are out there

Look out for me

You are my mothership

Guide me home.

Politics and Changes

When I was young, I desperately wanted to change things. The only way to do that was through getting into mainstream politics. I always thought that people who aren't directly involved with the political process were passive and they didn't really care. To me, it seemed that you have to devote all aspects of your life to it. I remember thinking to myself that I will not have a romantic liaison or fun with my friends (and more, extremely stupid things) when I become a politician.
                                                            Then, the phase of utter hopelessness set in. I completely gave up on any ideas of changing the system. I saw how people have tried and failed, miserably. I noticed people's reactions and decided that I, alone cannot change anything. This was the complete opposite of what I used to think before, in my years of extreme naivety. But during this phase, I became Apolitical. I thought it was dirty. I generalized everyone to being lazy, greedy and passive.
                                                                 Yesterday something very profound struck me. Something that would help me attain that balance which I have been wanting for a long time. I know myself, I cannot remain unaffected. I react. To everything and anything. I think. being passive is not an option for me. But I also know that my vision is clouded. I am not very practical. I am more emotional than necessary. So, I know I will not make a very good politician.
                                          So what can I do? I can take a stand. I can think rationally about it. I can use whatever tools I have, to speak up for things I believe in. Everyone has the  drawing room discussions about things. I can let people close to me know where my loyalties lie. I know it won't change things but there is always a probability that I can be the change I believe in, right?

Criti(cyni)cism

I've been told, a lot of times, that I cannot take criticism. And that I get defensive and loud if I told that I am wrong. Most of the times, my response to these allegations/accusations/truths is an unintelligible "Yeah, right". I scoff and walk off. (Oo, that rhymes!). But yesterday I realized that this habit of mine could prevent me from growing as a writer. And more importantly, growing into a better person.

                       I am deeply hypocritical. When did I realize this? Yesterday itself. Yes, yesterday was a big day for revelations. So, I saw an example of two people, who were so blind sighted by their own thoughts that it made me wonder whether one day, I could end up like that? It’s not just the fear of being wrong, there was more a fear of losing people who want the best for me and I don't give them a chance because of my stubbornness.

                                                                                I know what happens to people when they don't stop to consider their actions. Their loved ones, despite all the love that they have, give up. Some might say that if you love someone, you won’t stop wishing for their betterment. But at this stage, this becomes more like a hopeless prayer then a verbal appeal. I have done this too, given up on people I love. I used to do it in excess. I've toned it down now. I thought to myself, and realized that, everyone is allowed to make mistakes.

                                                                  My form of criticism was extreme. Now, the real trouble came in. And thank God, I've realized it. I only ask for people's opinion on things I know I've done right. Be it my writing or my actions. But I should now learn to ask on things that, I know will make me work harder. It might mean a possible re-write or an apology or a complete alter in life's habits. But if it’s for the better, why not? 

Right to (Give) Death

Yesterday, Amir Ajmal Kasab was given the death sentence by the Mumbai High Court. Everybody who faced the nightmare of 26/11 Bombay Attacks , rejoiced. But there were some people, who were against the sentence. According to them, Capital Punishment is a disgrace to a democracy. But is IT? Or is the policy 'death for death' justified?
                           I was always against death penalties. I had read up on every page at the Amnesty International website about the evils of Capital Punishment. I had an opinion when it came to such punishments.But when it came to Bombay, why did my opinion change? And why is it, that now I think that it is a just punishment?

                                                                                                                                                             

How can one man, who kills so many innocent people, in cold blood, be allowed to live?

 How can one man, who has destroyed so many families, most of them poor, be allowed to live? 

How can one man, whose plans resulted in a child losing his parents and scarring him forever, be allowed to live?

Why should we feed him, when his guns cost the livelihoods of so many? 

Why should he be allowed to live?

He made me question Humanity.

Why should he be allowed to live?

He made me doubt my fellow beings.

Why should he be allowed to live?

He disgraced an entire section of people.

Why, on earth, should he be allowed to live?

He.................

Is there a need for more?

And no, this isn't my College-Perpetual-Rebel-Anger talking. I am completely rational when I say this. There is so much more that I want to write but as I see, there isn't much I can do.