In dodo's head

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.

the mind is a strange thing, needing to be replenished every now and then with fresh sprinkles of hope and sparks of passion in order to survive. bleak hopelessness overpowers souls with every passing wave of time. I have become a grave of my once youthful energetic self- there was a time when I felt invincible, overflowing with ideas and illusions of how I would shine. and now all that is left are doubts. strangers look to me, polite smiles in place, and ask about life plans and goals. I fear my own answer, and have chosen the path of 'figuring out life' with a silly smile to numb the overwhelming feeling of failure. time races past my struggling self, with each passing tide I struggle to make sense of all that I am and all that I wish to be. there's still a flickering warmth inside, awakened once a while by well wishers who see me as more that what I seem, they once saw the light in me, and even now strain their eyes to catch a glimpse again. I flip t...

There is great jubilation on Independence day, amplified by the advent of social media, especially Facebook which now even lets you update the world on how you are celebrating Independence day. Being an Indian brings with it its own roller coaster of ups and downs. I feel pride in the laurels of my country and in the great personalities it has managed to produce from the most unexpected of settings. Singing the national anthem and listening to patriotic songs gives me goosebumps and a sense of great patriotism. But then I am more often than not shaken out of this patriotic stupor by the ground reality of it all. Being from a state like Manipur has meant that my sense of belonging to India is rather offset by a flicker of alienation. No matter how many years I spend on the 'mainland', somehow I feel like I am seen as an outsider. No matter how many years I spend wandering the streets of Delhi, the vendors and autorickshaw drivers and the hostel wardens will still hike up the...

(I wish I took this picture, but I didnt. I found it on the Internet) My father once told me- you know, Bem.. When you are busy in life, you wish for freedom. When you are in school, you wish you didn't have to study, you wish you didn't have exams.. But once you get that freedom, you won't like it anymore. You will want things to do.. How wise were those words. I just submitted my essays, and here I am in my room, Free as a bird. But I don't feel the exaltation I thought I would be feeling. I feel restless, like I want my next essay to be due soon, so that I am occupied with something, and then can waste time and feel like I am indulging.. What is it about doing things you are not supposed to, like eat that extra slice of cake, or procrastinate for that extra hour when you have a presentation due..

There are people we meet in life who we want to instinctively take care of, people who touch us in foreign parts of our hearts and make us so bound to them that being with them and loving them is the only way of life we know. Not many are lucky enough to find such bonds. Some have to struggle, squint and ignore the misgivings to see the light shining through. Some have to look past the external happy masks and see the holes that they want to fill. But the question is: How many people do that? How many reach out and hug someone when they put on a brave face and just smile. How many learn to disbelieve and see through a person's 'I am okay'? The world is a strange place. There are so many people, alone and not lonely. And yet many more who are lonely and alone. Who just need the touch of a hand to make everything alright. And there does exist people who would be more than happy to reply to that one urgent SOS call.