Mortal beings that we are,
Soon we will turn into ash and dust,
And all that will remain of us will be memories.
We featured in so many of people's lives.
Some in a good way, and in some, bad.
Sometimes unintentionally, and sometimes a misunderstanding.

We nimbly scoot past souls,
Hoping to not topple over the fragile,
And yet some rush past,
Leaving our hearts in debris.

Ah human existence,
The epitome of irony.


tran·scend tran(t)ˈsend/ verb past tense: transcended; past participle: transcended be or go beyond the range or limits of (something abstract, typically a conceptual field or division).
As time tick tocks, and the dusk of my time to pick and choose a career slowly appears on the horizon, 'well wishers (who knows if they are really well wishers..) come, ringing bells of alarm; 'make her give the UPSC, make her give the MPSC' they say, in concerned voices.. And then my mother, BemWeary, replies with a sigh, and then attaches a verb to me, that seems to explain it all- Oh I don't know, she is really transcended.. After having heard it for half a decade or so, it is one of those verbs I would use to describe myself if anybody asked me to do so.. 
It's hard to really understand how I got to this state of transcendence.. Was it after years and years of living in denial; does it stem from my immune system trying to quell the simmering panic deep down; was it a result of we…

Pitter patter

The pitter patter of raindrops falling onto the ground,
A lullaby for the sleepy.
Outside, paddy fields have transformed,
Into endless lakes of blue.
Storms rage on every night,
Flashes of light and thunder,
Sending my heart into a flutter.
April April, won't you end fast,
And put an end to my misery.

Something new

The Start of Something new,
Always an endless trail of new discoveries,
A 'Really!' and a 'You too?'.
Years on, the novelty fades.
And what binds us will be familiarity,
A comradeship born out of our shared experiences.
And even that will tire us,
And we will long to be back to the Start.
Back to the Start of Something new.

Food for thought..

You can't nit pick faults in people everyday and also expect them to be super confident individuals ready to take on the world.
You can't keep directing someone on what to do, and then suddenly release the leash and expect said someone to automatically know what's up.
Ambition doesn't awaken in a person overnight. It comes from birth. You can't bury off a person's passions and then expect them to still have a zeal in them to go get the world.

Life doesn't work that way.
As the saying goes, as you sow, so shall you reap.


black box

And when the rain has washed away the debris,
When it has extinguished the lingering sparks,
And all that is left is the carcass of our old selves,
Our shocked souls will examine it all,
With our hands blackened by the soot,
Desperately we will look through it all,
Hoping to find the black box.


Tethered to this land I call home.
People wonder why I am unable to move,
Why I have not aspired to fly higher.
What could possibly be so sacred,
That you refuse to flee to greener pastures, they ask.

How do I explain to them, this attachment.
Thinking too deeply about it reminds me of its shortcomings.
The people who did me wrong,
The stifling environment, the ever so inquisitive, ever so bitter mouthed souls.
The lethargic folks, always looking for trouble,
Ambling to protest all sorts of supposed wrongs.

Most days, I am filled with an emptiness here.
But it is a known kind, unlike that elsewhere,
Being away fills me with an unexplained longing.
A friend who knows me too well at some point remarks,
Is it your dogs? Are you unable to leave them behind.
Is it the 'known fears are better than the unknown' thing?

Such a strange thing,
This concept of home.
I close my eyes, and all I associate with the word, is this place.
With its troubled people,
With its cru…