Of “Not being enough”

This boulder of insecurities,
Questions and doubts,
The load of unwanted answers,
And sullen silent bouts.

Rearing up an ugly head,
Feeding with a passion,
Like parasitic vines,  
And turning into obsession.

"Not being enough",
This unnecessary belief,
Pushing down the path,
To inexplicable grief.

Turmoil and darkness,
When we wanted light,
There is a monster within,
Ready to incite a fight.

What really is the cause,
And what is the cure?
Focusing on the present,
And relishing moments so pure.

A reminder to overcome
The insecurities galore,
"I may be not enough,
Yet I am some more."

Just some more darkness spewing from me, no big deal. Inspired by words that I tell myself pretty often and that unfortunately seem to have tattooed themselves on my psyche. “Not being enough”.

I have been trying to fight this triple headed monster inside me since a long, long time. Some days it is me who wins the fight, and some days, the monster flexes harder. But I have been working out, and lifting weights and I am all but ready to knock this POS dead.


Take That Chance…

Take that chance,
Play in the rain,
Jump in the puddle,
Open your mouth,
Sip in the water.
Take that chance,
She wants to hear it,
Break your code,
Take her hand,
Hold her close.
Take that chance,
Run that extra mile,
Don’t check your timing,
Breathe in, breathe out,
Start running again.
Take that chance,
Give it a go,
May or may not happen,
Call ’em up,
Just steal a kiss.
Take that chance,
Get a Mocha instead of Latte,
Bite into that muffin,
Spoon a bit of Meringue,
Let the conversation flow.
Take that chance.
Book that ticket,
Rent a car,
Let the moonlight guide you.
Say hello to the stars.



Rumor has it

She seems to be
Thinking a lot lately,
Smiling alone,
Veiling her laugh thinly.

Rumor has it,
Her evenings are merry.
And it has nothing to do
With her vodka and cherry.

Twisting her hair strands,
Around her finger,
She plays with the pen,
Letting the thoughts linger.

Rumor has it,
Her blush has a new shade.
The eyes have a twinkle,
That refuses to fade.

She says she’s free,
Yet feels some fear.
She feels so strange,
Yet it is all so familiar.

Rumor has it,
Her heart is beating.
Not felt for long,
How now she’s feeling.

There’s a spring in her step,
The extra curls in hair.
Her perfume seems new,
Not her usual fare.

Rumor has it,
She feels new energy in her core.
Her eyes are elsewhere,
You may not be the one for her anymore.


What fun it was to write this piece! You can give the last line a nice ‘moving on’ touch or make it scandalous. If you chose the latter, you are mad cool! I am not telling which one I chose, as of now. 😉


Test for A

I have a BFF who I am close to. She says she has read this blog once after I gave her the name of my blog. And then she asked me the name again yesterday. She does it for pictures, mails, etc as well. “I forgot/I did not see. Please tell/send again.”
So this is a test for you A. I had sent you this poem last year on your birthday. If you read this space, leave a comment. I am going to note when you read and comment. That will decide what I get for you when I come to India.

I met a silly girl,
she was really silly.
For the complete lack of imagination,
lets call her Silly.

Silly girl is such a nut,
to the point of being a prat,
when it comes to sweet animals,
she’s such a scaredy cat.

Silly girl loves talking to everyone,
made us almost miss our trains.
But I am the only one
whom she causes max hurt and pain ;’-)

Silly girl loves her Copper chocs,
and stole my idea of going to Chinese room.
That makes me want so badly
to hit her with a broom.

Always dressed in blacks,
or browns and muddy greens.
Whenever in salwar kurtas
its a sight to watch her preen.

Silly girl wouldnt wear some floaters
cuz they had a yellow mark.
She wouldnt be caught dead,
in colors bright and happy as a lark.

Silly girl loves texting,
clickety clickety click,
even in the middle of conversations,
she’s that big a prick!

Silly girl has a scarf,
super dirty and smelly.
Whenever asked to trash it,
all she does is dilly-dally.

Silly girl was born on 1st march,
the weirdest of all dates.
Just to rhyme something with that,
she should change her name to Kate.

Anyways, I love that silly girl,
even with her stupidities willy-nilly.
So why did I write so much for you?
Just to say Happy B’day, Silly!

P.S. This silly girl wears bright stuff now and is happily married since November’13. But she will still call normal function types sarees ‘zhaang pang’. I do not understand her dictionary.


Of lou and cheese…;)

I have a ridiculous cheesy romantic streak in me. There was a point when I was in love with Twilight( Yeah, those days are gone). But even now that one part gives me the fuzzy knees, where Edward is trying to control his attraction to Bella because of his thirst for her blood….

So here it goes….

My forbidden fruit…..

Your soul is the one thing in the world,
I want to touch, I want to feel,
I know it will give my heart,
A deep wound that’ll never heal.

Touching me with just your presence,
You are my forbidden fruit,
The very thought of wanting you,
Hits me with strength so brute.

Your gazes are like fire,
Burning me with passionate might,
But how do they soothe me at the same time,
Like stars twinkling in a velvety night.

Impatience of passion,unbridled,
Is this what they call this?
When I just want to seal our hearts,
Together with a flaming kiss.