Tangled in Thoughts

Born into a web of contradictions and hypocrisy I struggle to fit in but even more to stand out. I am a woman, bold and free Yet longing for liberation from you, your rustic notions and all that lot.  You talk about equality of sexes and yet You use the term ‘weaker sex’ to mention my kind. You speak for hours about feminism but somehow forget It all when the time comes and then cowardly you lurk behind. You urge me to do what I feel like but brusquely You lay out a long list of do’s and don’ts You are incomprehensible and so is your audacity Be free but on terms set by you? Oh no, I won't!  It isn't easy to walk around feeling your stare from behind I could be fifteen or fifty  And you'd still ogle in ways relentless and unkind I long to walk unperturbed for once, don't you see?  You blabber on about modest clothing. You and your lies! I could be wearing a burqa And you’d still strip me naked with your bare eyes Protecti...

I have so many things to tell you Things I've been meaning to tell  Since I found you and your writings Since we first talked Since the first time you made me laugh Since I first dreamt about you Since such innumerable firsts. Oh but what should I tell you first? There're just too many to even begin Yet I shall keep them to myself Lock them in my heart so deep and safe If you wish, you need only ask And I will say it all All that I need to say but never have.  And till then I thought I'd write lines for you But what should I even write When poets have written it all and more? So you who rules my thoughts You who gifted me all the umpteen firsts, Made me bereft of any last drop of sanity I had And yet knows not of any of that... I have no lines to write for you No beautiful stories to tell No words to rhyme this time I have but one wish  And all I will ever ask from you is this wish Can I have this forever? Just yo...

I’ll tell you the story of how my imagination was shot By none but me and why I crafted that disturbing plot. I had to free my imagination when in the clutches of clichés it was caught What else could I do when unruly words too went on their own trot? For long I tried but colourless words were all I ever wrote Words that were always far less too eloquent than what I’d have thought Over the blank page once again I saw them menacingly gloat Before parting with my imagination and leaving it to rot. So I slew it and then the carcass of my imagination, I watched it float On the white expanse like a capsized boat Near to it lay undead yet lifeless like a big blot Of blood, words, nay- remnants of a lost battle I once fought. Trickled from the carcass of my imagination like blood that wouldn’t clot Few absurd words and to bury the carcass, my pen I mournfully sought And a eulogy I searched in the depths of my ink pot Rest in peace, I wrote. The saddest cl...

ഒരു സ്വപ്നത്തിനിപ്പുറമെന്നപോൽ ഞാൻ കാത്തിരിക്കുന്നു നീയും  ഞാനും ഒന്നാകുന്ന യാമത്തിനായ് ഒരായുഷ്കാലവും എന്റെ പ്രണയവും നിനക്ക് നൽകാനായ് പക്ഷെയാ യാമം പ്രവചനങ്ങൾക്കതീതമല്ലോ ഞാനിന്നും നിനക്ക് വെറുമൊരജ്ഞാതയും  ... വ്യർഥമെങ്കിലും കാത്തിരിക്കുന്നു അവ്യക്തമായൊരാ  ദിനത്തിനായ്‌ അന്നാൾവരെയോ? കാലം മ്ലാനം കഥ ശൂന്യം.

Time’s ticking for you and me. Human kind as a whole has an inherent tendency to procrastinate. No matter how punctual you say you are, you’re still a procrastinator. Maybe you’re not as horrible a procrastinator as I am. Maybe you don’t on the outside seem like a procrastinator. But nevertheless you are one. A big one. It’s something that has been passed onto us from generations. We are taught to dream but simultaneously we are indoctrinated with the norm of never rebelling against the system or the social code. Be what you want but always conform to what the society expects of you . And what is this society? It’s just a bunch of idiots like us who don’t matter in the least when they’re alone but can combine to form a decisive factor in everyone’s life. Think about it. Why do you go to school or college? To gain education? Oh now now! You go there just so you can have fun with your friends all the while pretending to be doing what society expects from a reasonable person ...

Today I decided to behold my reflection And so I stood before a mirror There I saw looking back at me in all its perfection Fathomless mediocrity. Oh the horror! Mediocrity is what engulfs me Its eternal presence being felt in my every endeavour. Oh what sadness is this insurmountable mediocrity When my pen weaves words which are only sour. Who am I, I asked the image standing as tall as I ‘One among the scores of insignificant bloggers One among the many unknown, indifferent singers and why! You are just one in a throng of ungraceful dancers.’ Is this humility I feel as I drown devoid of any inspiration? Is this the acceptance of who I really am? Jack of all trades and master of none. O mediocrity! Fallen have I even onto clichés now, damn! Still I look into the mirror and see no ray of light Nothing to look for but the unending cycle of routine For I am always the grey between black and white For I am only the silver sans the sheen. ...

I think atleast in my outward expressions of love, I’ve at times been a little partial to my father. But deep down in my heart, I love both my mother and father equally and I love them so much more than I do anyone else in this whole wide world. Yet, as I look back on my days of growing up, I feel I’ve always tried to express my love for my father in ways a bit more obvious. I’ve always wanted to be approved by Achan and approval from him still means to me the greatest thing ever. Whenever Amma asked me not to do certain things, I would reply ‘I’ll get Achan’s permission, ha!’. Maybe it is because I’m a girl that I’ve always felt the incessant need to be pampered more by my father than by my mother. As a little girl, I was identified as the ‘daddy’s kid’ of the family while my brother claimed himself to be the ‘mama’s boy’. The 4 year old me was more than happy with the recognition of being Achan’s favourite. But this doesn’t mean I loved my mother any less than I did my father. ...