I bought your freedom

I bought your freedom my soft toy,

My green bunny, my cuddly boy

For this day, I saved my cash

So I could buy things and make it match,

Our expenses were almost the same,

He spent a little more, but he earned as well

I am still in college, so you can tell

How hard it must have been for me

Right in front my break up, I could see!

I could see it clearly coming my way,

So I did the best I could to pay,

Him somehow the money for my cute little baby,

Cause I knew that is something I could never give up, maybe

A clever decision, I am proud of it now

Decluttering my life, getting space to grow.

I bought your freedom my soft toy,

My green bunny, my cuddly boy!

Today when removing all those memory triggers from my life,

I am glad I literally ‘bought’my bunny back!

Leaving him would’ve be even more painful than the actual breakup,

It was love at first sight,

It was love at first sight,

His bright green fur, lights up my life! :D

(I know the last two lines are hilarious, but I wrote this poem in jest and it suited the mood and the flow, I was happy writing it, so didn’t change anything)  :)
written while preparing for exams on 12^th may 2013 at 12:45 pm

Ups and Downs...

Ups and downs in life 
Come and go
I cry, I fell down
Back on my toes
Got a broken heart 
Put a band-aid, off I go
All said and done I know one thing for sure
I love my dad the most!

I wish to find someone like him,
But seeing people around, I drop my whim
My dad is creative, intelligent, a helping hand
But most of all he loves my mom so much
It shows in his eyes.
There love so strong, 
There love so sweet.
How could I ever find someone like him!?

Oh papa, I love you and my heart cries for another you,
Who could love me as much as you do,
Can I truly find another you?

Ups and downs in life 
Come and go
I cry, I fell down
Back on my toes
Got a broken heart 
Put a band-aid, off I go
All said and done I know one thing for sure,
I love my dad the most!

Written sometime in April 2013 :) 

It felt so right 'to me'

I held onto his every word,
I believed everything, he said
blind to the core
where the fuck was my head? =0

Proud of my brains,
intelligent than the rest,
that's what I thought,
about myself,
till I met you!

You who put everything in perspective,
I know now, I too do have a heart
Cause otherwise it wouldn't have hurt so much.
I thought I coudln't cry for anyone
except myself, but now I cry every night
For could I not see
it clearly then?
How could I be so stupid?

Even now when I know the reality,
Why do I still believe everything he said,
At times when I am alone or even
when with people
A song or a line reminds me of him
tears well up my eyes and I cry.

My gut feeling was always right,
but this is proving me wrong,
and that hurts more than anything
it felt so right 'to me'
But it felt so right 'to me'

Written during the end of March 2013 in class.

It’s very difficult for me

Look it’s very difficult for me

To pretend as if everything’s all right

When nothing is going right between us

It’s difficult to keep laughing

When all I want is to cry

 I like talking to you

But when we have to part

Talking everyday to you

Will only make it harder for me later

Having said that, do whatever you feel is right

You know better

I don’t want to hold any hard feelings or grudges towards you

Please don’t make it hard for me than it already is!

Written on 14^th February 2013 – Valentine’s Day bwahahahaha 

Crossroads

Crossroads always come in your life

You choose one and let the other go

I always chose the one – right, good, practical for me

But, this one time it’s difficult

My life changes if I take the wrong turn, take the wrong pick or go with the wrong option

But no, it’s not only about that

Had it been, I would have been hesitant

In choosing my education, profession, even my location

But this one time, it’s different

Matters of the heart, fuck up the head

Rose coloured glasses, blur your vision

Confusion, utter madness takes over

And this frustration wells up my eyes

And I cry.

Why is it so difficult to let go and move on?

Why is it so difficult to forget and start anew, afresh?

All will be, all right in time to come

My heart will heal and pieces fuse back into one,

But this period, of deciding to hold on or let go,

Is difficult, it’s killing me.

No I am not depressed,

I can still laugh and make people laugh,

Still do my work well, and go out and shop

But despite all the pretense, the outward appearance

I know something’s amiss

I am not me anymore

And I want this to end.

I am afraid of taking a wrong turn, choosing the wrong bend.

Crossroads always come in life,

You choose one and let the other go,

That is how we grow!

(I hope I am able to choose right and grow out of it soon)

Written on 12^th February 2013

Obsessed with words

You are obsessed with words,

More than enabling, they set limits,

You ask us to write a frame,

As if it’s a story.

Off course every photo has a tale,

But when we have ink, pen and our hands,

Why can’t we just draw it out?

Easier for us to get the message across,

Easier for you to understand,

More close to reality.

Why are you then so obsessed with word?

Words that set limits,

Words that are ultimately just words,

Not visuals to please the eyes.

Sir, in the end I have just one thing to say

Why stress the brain,

When you can soothe the eyes!

< I had written this for a professor who i find cute as a teddy, but didn't like him at all when he spoke about writing out "photographic' frames and explaining them :( when one could just draw them >

Written on 23^rd January 2013 at 12:13 pm 

The curious case of the girl with a 'Pink' backpack

When I had read Virginia Woolf’s essay ‘A Room of One's Own’ I had not really understood what the hue and cry was all about… after all what difference could one room really make! I didn’t like the essay and quickly forgot about it…only to be reminded of it years later. I didn’t really want to attend my mama’s wedding, had my parents not forced I wouldn’t have gone. I like my mama a lot but Ii feel that shaadi as a function is not so much about emotions as it is about show-shaw! So grudgingly when I packed my blue and orange traveling bag, I thought if I should carry a backpack along. As I would obviously go with the baraat and would not be carrying my traveling bag with me then, I decided I should carry my cute pink backpack.

So after reaching Kanpur (the venue for shaadi), I realised that we were the second family from our long list of relatives to arrive at the place where all the guests were supposed to stay. For the next three days and even later guests kept trickling in, people hugged each other like long lost brothers and why wouldn’t they? I had seen so many people again after years, some had changed so much I couldn’t recognize them, some I couldn’t remember, and those who I had expected to change still were the same. And with the growing number of people, increased the amount of chatter and along with that came petty fights, bruised egos, and random gossip which sooner or later lead to the formation of small groups, this vs. that. These groups could be based on something as frivolous as - the preference of rice over chapatti, or the likeness of one time over the other for breakfast/ lunch/dinner! =I

So in this atmosphere for a person who is very fond of her relatives and is very social at such extended family get together’s (sarcasm intended) ;) I decided if I stayed in that house bustling with people for long I would go mad with the tittle-tattle or get in a fight with someone who is conservative or a misogynist. I have a flair for getting into fights for someone completely uninvolved. I secretly want to be Dabbang or Singham (take your pick) and often end up in a clash of thoughts and ‘words’ with elders trying to protect somebody else’s idea who at times is not even present during the conversation. :P

So with my bright pink backpack which screams ‘I am a girl’ I would every morning, which would be 11-12 pm, go and walk around the place on foot and discover new things and places. I even got some really nice clicks. :D I hate wasting time and I utilized that time fruitfully thanks to my pink backpack. But for some people that bag become an irritant, why would that bag be constantly strapped on me? For some it was amusing, and for some it was just a part of funny banters and jokes. Some people in fact opened it and ransacked through it to see what was that ‘secret’ something that I couldn’t live without and carried everywhere with me. But being the cool girl I am, I happily showed it to them. Yet there were people, who didn’t even take permission and went through the contents, forgetting in the hurry to keep things back in the right order.

After the shaadi got over, and we got back from Kanpur, the memories which stuck to my head for the longest time were the one’s surrounding my pink backpack. It opened my eyes and gave me a whole new perspective on the essay by Virginia Woolf – it didn’t seem as outdated now, people in general seem to have a problem with anything that a girl owns privately, the society at large has a difficulty accepting a girl who can be on her own, and in fact likes to be alone. ‘A Room of One's Own’ wasn’t only about owning a room, it was about any private space, including a bag which a girl, a woman owns and carries with her almost all the time. Those who are intrigued, interested or even intimated by such a woman want a peek inside her bag, to check if she is carrying weapons for destroying patriarchy, which they love so much. In my case my bag only had – a notepad, a pen, a book and a camera.