Thought for Food

You say I am fat, but you are surely mistaken, These are food souvenirs from the times of fun and glee. All the cheese, chocolate, soda and bacon, Saved like memories in a diary, in my arms, thighs and belly. I know I cant hold on to the time, so I hold on to that time’s food, Engraved tattoos of reminiscence, now they define me, Little vague for some, and for some little understood, I have saved them all, all in loving memory. The protrude of my hips, is from the chineese noodles from my college canteen And my bulky arms save the French fries I had on my first date in McD The countless popcorn and pepsi I had with every movie that I have seen Are the reason for the increasing width of my legs above my knee, And even though the engagement ring gets tighter every day, My swollen fingers embrace the fancy dinners with my husband and family And my favourite fast food, pani poori, pav bhaji and chole Lie right beside my smile, even if my bloated cheeks make me look funny. So I guess, you now stand corrected, that I am in fact not overweight, Just overflowing with love that cant be contained just within my heart only Encompassing the spirit throughout, I am sentimental, romantic and passionate, Anything and everything else, other than being bulky fat or portly

Brittle Mirror heart

Mirror, Mirror of the heart, Rosy and desirable at the start Holds a fancy image of love, Reflection of a divine feeling from above. And when it breaks, it breaks into millions Vulnerable and weak like victimised civilians They scatter and hide in dark corners of deserted alleys Doubtful and scared to confide even to a faithful pally. And the fancy image held together in the start Is reflected separately in bits by each piece apart. What it once held, a perfect smile, curved like the crescent moon, Now lies curtailed on the floor, completely strewn. Some broken pieces, the civilians, are forever lost, Never there to rebuild the empire after the draught. The shattered ones left, build their own weapons and arms And cut deep into the feet on those who trespass their farms.

Winter Special

Bundled up and packed from head to toe, In layers of wool, to ward off the cold and snow, Her hair came curling down like satin ribbon, And her eyes gleamed like golden sparkles in the sun. I knew she was sent from someplace blissful, Made with sheer care by many elves, singing the Christmas Carol I knew she was a loadful of sweetness with the kick of Vodka She was my christmas gift, the best one from Secret Santa

Perfect Crime

A dramatically dark poem! 7 missed calls, none returned Family and friends all concerned No reply to the messages sent to her No updates on facebook nor on twitter No recent photos or a fancy check-in, Three days ago on whatsapp she was last seen She was also offline, for the first time, on gtalk And in March was the last post on her blog It seemed she had dissappeared without a warning None of her accounts were found when tried browsing It seemed as though she had committed social media suicide No suicide note, no suspects and no reasons identified. Little was known, it was a cold-blooded murder, a conspiracy She endured several repeated brutal blows on her bruised identity Constant torture, constant pain and uncountable miseries She succumbed later that day to many internal injuries.

Date A Girl Who Dances

Date a dancer, not just for the thrill involved in watching her dance. Date her for the grace, for the myriad of expressions, for the flexibilty, for the balance, for the confidence, for the liveliness and for so much more. Date her for the colourful variety she would bring in your life, one time she would be the belly dancer and the other time she would have a performance for female infoeticide. She would be flexible in adjusting to your likes, just the way she blends her body postures in rhythm to the music beats. The same way she could transform her expressions and dancing style according to the music. Date her, because she would know that it takes time and effort to make something beautiful, to make it perfect. She would always be open to ideas as she knows there is always more than one way of going about things, just the way there can be so many different steps that could be perfect for a particular beat. Date her, because she would know that it is not just the song that would make a performance a hit. She would put in her best to make it a success. You would know she is a dancer if she is on the dance floor right from the time the music starts till the time she is the only one on the floor, insisting the DJ to play just one more song. You could recognise her in the crowd, if even a crowded bus, she is in a blissful state, with earphones plugged. If you look closely, you would find her struggling from swaying in the music and forcing herself to keep a straight face, fighting the expressions that she pictures go perfect for the song. You might still catch her tapping her feet and slightly shaking in a rhythmic manner. You would know she is a dancer, because even while standing in a crowded bus, she would hold the seat in a way different from others, with poise and she would seem comfortable even with one one hand twisted behind holding the seat, while her legs are literally on top of one another because of lack of space. She would never feel conscious or uncomfortable if you fix your eyes on her, in fact she might not even register it. If at all she does, she would not shy away from making an eye contact because she is used to looking in the eyes of the audience and smiling graciously. When you meet her, she would talk with you animatedly, her eyes moving in all corners and her hand gestures speaking more than she would. But try not to strike a conversation on dance moves. Technicality is a buzz killer, one needs to enjoy and live the dance than focus on where the hands and legs go. Rather share your music with her or better, show her a silly dance move. She would love to act goofy and dance silly for fun. If you dance too, challenge her with your moves and see her match your steps. Take her for a long drive and play groovy music and see her eyes gleam instantly. If the music cant be played out loud, leave her to herself, her ipod would come out and she would lose herself in her music. Do not distrurb, she loves being in this world, she would be grateful to you for this. Date a girl who dances, because she gives importance to small things too. She knows the importance of timing for a rhythmic flow and would never go off-beat. She knows the importance of finishing her moves before starting a new one and would never keep you hanging. She would be well balanced and even if she loses her temper, she knows the right way to fix it and it just a good song away. She would fix things, while smiling without panicking just the way she would when she forgets a dance-step in between a performance but has to go on. Even if she messes up badly, she would let it go. If she likes you back, she probably finds you interesting, challenging and lively, something she could work on to bring out something beautiful. If you find the girl who dances, indulge in the beautiful harmony she brings and make sure to symphony never ends.

Shades the colours faced

Here is a tale of seven wonderful friends, unlike any you would have heard of before,
Violet, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange and Red, and they called themselves VIBGYOR!
They considered themselves similar and alike, so had never ever registered any difference,
And little were they aware that they were categorized on their varying level of wavelengths.

They resided in a far away (light illuminating) land, and thought of going on an adventure trip,
So they combined themselves into a packet called photon, and set ready for their share of mischief.
And though they set out together as a single entity of white light, and never thought of breaking apart,
Each one had a different idea in his mind and a different dream resided in everyone’s heart.

While green & indigo wanted to explore the forests and blue wanted to tame the sea,
Violet and Yellow were clueless what they’d do and decided to follow Blue’s fantasy.
Orange and Red were a couple and always stuck to each other like glue
They just wanted to click pictures together and travel places new.

Only when they reached the worldly earth, did they realize that they had different destinations,
Dejectedly they split into three, but promised to join once they had fulfilled their desired expectations.
They bid their warm goodbyes to one another and mapped their paths and boundaries.
And because orange persuaded, they also clicked their parting photos for memories.

The determined green and indigo advanced for the forests, their longing desire,
But the forests could admit only one, the rule of nature being a spectacle of satire.
They rejected indigo and the abandoned one initially low on confidence, went on a hiding.
Only later to become the expression of sorrow and inked its tears in melancholic writings.

The threesome of blue, violet and yellow, who pursued to chase the sea, faced a similar consequence,
They took in all three but were partial and gave the passionate blue an apparent preference.
Over the time, blue became conceited and arrogant and started looking down on the other two,
Who grew jealous and self-doubtful and quit the job in bitter sentiments and bid their adieu.

And who could have imagined the couple who could hardly keep a distance were also moving away,
For red got too occupied with his work and could hardly make time for orange even on Sundays.
She whiled away the forlorn time looking at their photos and longing for the seven of them to reunite.
And finally made her mind to bring them back and bridge the gap that had grown out of spite.

She didn’t need to put in much effort, for each felt incomplete without the other,
Soon they were back at Orange’s house, and like old days, all of them were together.
The apologies were made and the guilty were forgiven, and some experiences were told,
They reminisced their old jokes and laughed at how Blue sported a showy wristband of gold.

Indigo, who had grown wise and philosophical, writing erudite thoughts being an ink,
Had a wise thought to add and ponder over, which made everyone think,
The rejection from the forests, put him in the place where he belonged, and here was the beauty,
Of nature’s way of giving us a purpose of adding colours to life and completing our respective duty.

A rejection here would lead to a reflection there, every time adding a new shade or hue,
Pairing up in different combinations, giving different meaning to things to bring out something new.
Being a failure let them try new ventures, even if initially they underwent a feeling of dismay
Being integrated as one always, aspiring a single dream would have led to only shades of grey.

And as the bitterness dissolved, they smiled and unanimously agreed
That the split was for the better and was pivotal in their dream to succeed.
Had they not gone different ways and stuck together throughout their expedition,
The world would have been left in shades of black and white, oh! an appalling imagination.

Oh and they wondered what if they had got intimidated and hadn’t started their journey at all
They wouldn’t have seen the successes and they wouldn’t have seen any of the falls.
But they were happy that they at least dared to chase their dreams and gave it a try
Or else they would have just been hazy unidentifiable spots twinkling in the sky.

As they rejoiced their friendship, Yellow reminded all of the dream that they all shared,
Of spreading happiness around and setting an example of their friendship that couldn’t be compared.
So they joined hands to serve the world and delight them with a spectacular show,
They coloured the world vibrant to their respective capacities and then left a beautiful trail of rainbow.

Tell-a-tail

I woke up one fine day, sensing something was terribly wrong,
It felt like I was sleeping all over my hair, but surely it couldn’t have grown so long.
I turned behind and shrieked at the sight of my growing a tail,
Yes, a hairy one like horse’s, that couldn’t be missed without a fail!

I didn’t know what to do about it, how to hide an additional lock of hair,
I wanted a pair of scissors, but to risk going out for it, I couldn’t dare.
I stayed home all day, wondering what should be done but still had no clue.
Only to peek outside later to find everyone else having a tail too.

I stared wide-eyed in delight at how people had fashioned it all,
Like hair-styles, there were tail-styles of lengths long and small!
Some had permed them, some had them coloured and some had made plaits,
And now I was relieved that I hadn’t cut them off in a hurried haste.

I looked in the mirror and pondered how I would style mine,
I wanted to dress it up with accessories of various colours and designs!
I spent hours on it, trying beads and gems and bows of satin lace,
And finally managed to make it look elegant with adequate grace.

And then when I was about to change into something to wear outside,
None of my clothes were tailored for a tail, I dismally realized.
With regret, I cut one of the polka dots of my expensive dress,
And stepped outside, dressed perfectly to impress.

I was happy having a tail, it made dressing up even more fun,
And now I was wondering how his tail was, my special someone’s!
I hoped it was as chic as mine, or at least not a big flop
Called him up excitedly and asked him to meet me at the coffee shop.

And there he came and to my disappointment had a tail of a leopard,
My heart fell down on the floor, for it looked disgustingly awkward.
Like everyone else, it wasn’t a discovery for him and he was quite used to it,
But for me, I couldn’t help noticing and think how it was a big misfit.

I walked back drably, hating how life had been deranged.
Hoping things were like before and had not become so strange.
Even if that meant, not having the silky tail, I wanted it reversed
Because his gauche tail made this fantasy seem like a curse.

And then suddenly a voice within me spoke and it took me by surprise,
It ruminated a new thought which pinched and made my aversion seem vice
To think of it I liked mine only when I realized I wasn’t an outcast,
My initial reaction and that after the realization were such contrasts.

Also, people change, though maybe not as evidently and you have to accept it as life,
You would still be wetting your pants and crying, if you hadn’t changed, otherwise.
And thinking back, I remembered how things had changed since I knew him
We both had grown mature and wiser, and the gradual adjustment was never too grim

Even if it's unpleasant, it is inevitable that things change,
Don’t people grow bald, paunchy and toothless with age?
The journey together shapes you into familiarizing with the differences.
Exploring unknown territories and bridging the distances.

And likewise, didn’t I like my tail, after initially being repulsed by its presence,
It takes time, but rather than those petty things, love should be my preference
And with that thought I felt lighter and more comfortable with the recent tranformations,
I looked up and said, bring me anything; my love is ready for any kind of alteration.