Kavyanjali

Shed it all off Like the trees in the fall; What doesn't help you grow But adds to your sorrow. Create ripples, not waves; Like a river so tranquil. Things not worth your thoughts, Never take them beyond two snorts.  Pour the droplets down the drains  Like the hefty clouds in the sky. Demounting things you can’t shoulder  makes you much bolder.  Stand tall in all weathers- With the glory of the mountains. Don’t mind the words shot at you  Always be  proud of what you do. Be true to your conscience  Like the ever glowing sun, Do something  because you want to Not because someone pokes you.

 Yes, I am  a mother Treated on par with the divine. I bore a life in me; Brought into this world, To  protect and to nourish; To provide and to  cherish. I have suffered and endured Have had dark sleepless nights; Juggled with multiple tasks, Let go of million things. Even so, I raised and loved; I taught and shaped. Yet you all judge my love for my own! Question my deeds ,my decisions. Just because I am a mother, my life is open for everyone- To judge and to be sorry To dig and to bury.

 

  Have you ever wondered why you encounter  the question "what do you do?" more than "how do you do? " (Maybe an Indian thing of poking one's nose into another's life). If you are a married woman and a mother at that, you will get this question more often. I have been fiddling with this  question for so many years now until one day the realization finally dawned upon me.  It is hard to keep up with the societal standards. It is harder to meet people's expectation about you. And the hardest part is answering the million dollar question 'what do you do?'   Well, it may sound a bit vague but the real intended question here is, how is your career graph going? At this juncture, everything else in life appears secondary. So it is pointless if you try to answer the question by listing out the things that you do on a day to day basis.  It doesn't matter if you learn new things each day or are teaching and moulding the future generation. It least conc...

  The clouds may crumble And the sky may fall, Feet may stumble, Words may prick thy soul. The seas may roar, The earth may tilt, The rains may downpour, Winds may steal your quilt. The days maybe darker And nights so cold; The paths maybe harder, Yet you remain so bold. Because come what may; Even if the whole world shatters- Hold that little life in your arms  For she is all that matters.

                  I don't know if I stand tall but my feet surely feel buried in the muck; in the puddle spreading deep down into the earth, to its middle. I see the days pass, the seasons change and years go by But I stay still, the way I have always been- grounded and inert, yet so keen.   But I can sense my strength branching out into the embracing skies. Still my legs stay rooted as they watch me grow- tall as ever but laying so low.

 Oh sweet little moon  Shining up so bright Dont you see the little mind Tryin' to sleep tight? But all you do is send down A million dreams Of your twinkling stars And of colourful streams.  There are horses in the meadows Wagging their tails And wee fishes in the pond Hiding from big whales. The hippos are all snoozing In the moonlit pool Hearing them snore, The cows cant keep their cool. The dog in the house Is chasing down big bugs And the bear on the bed Keeps asking for hugs The wolf at the window Humming lovely notes For the sheeps all cozed up In their furry coats. Now, Hush little stars Be gentle and quiet And wish this litlle mind A peaceful nighty night.

    Dear Words,  It’s been long… so long since we last sat down for a cup of tea and discussed our rhyming schemes and story lines; named our characters and sketched their quirks; munched on our biscuits pondering over what title we should  bestow on our latest poem.  Remember our late night musings and secret whispers about some new idea to elaborate and  write upon? You used to make a chain out of my thoughts and urge me to jump out of my bed and pen it all down at midnight. Although my sleep was all broken, there were neither complaints nor  regrets. Since the day I can remeber, we had shared this special kind of bond between us; with unrealistic ideals and eccentric behaviour.  When people went out and had the time of their lives, we stayed back and  had our own parties in the cozy corner of my house along with our pals ; the pen which was always high and a stack of paper which always felt this emptiness deep inside. That was our kind of ...

I think I've forgotten my pen And its mighty strokes; The curves of my letters And how the words interlocked! The lined papers on my desk, No more line up for my hand, Spotless and stainless they lie Like untrodden white sand.  No more do I know my words Or to weave them with beautiful meanings. I've forgotten how my thoughts flow  Or the pace with which my mind swings. Without my words and my weapons Life has lost its lovely charm; Unbeknownst to myself I have forgotten who I am.

 

 

 

You dream of a beautiful day But all you see is  a gloomy sky And here's yet another  day to waste With droopy eyes and an elongated sigh  Alas! You have let the grim clouds Blur the vision on your inside No wonder the unpleasantness lurks Beside you, with your each stride.  But have you ever tried to see the beauty of the day  Despite how the sky manifests?   For maybe you have looked around too much   To forget its within you that everything vests. 

In the month of June, when the sky wept and the rain overwhelmed the lands, I was born and thence I fell in love with rains. Every time I hear the rain splatter against the roof, or watch the tiny droplets chase each other down the window glass, my heart warms up with severe nostalgia. There was a time when my cousins and I would sit on the verandah of our house, watching the rain trickle down the roof tiles and make paper boats with old news papers. The boats once ready to sail would be set off to the never never land which was apparently somewhere down the drains. But all the fun would last only till the thunder strikes along with the fancy lightning and everyone would scream and huddle around in some dark corner of the house. The elders would calm us down saying that its just the sound of battle between Gods and Demons and we have nothing to worry about (Maybe because we weren’t participating). Rains started to get more fun during school days. Whenever the schools reopened, the road...

    Dear past me, Hey there! I hope you are doing well. I have been busy but if you ask what ‘s up? I don’t know .There is nothing much to tell. Life throws so many things at me and all I can do is be anxious. There are times when I just sit by my window sill, contemplating about life and zone out for a while. In the melancholy of those moments, I really do wish that time had never split us apart. I wish I hadn’t changed. I wish I were still you. I have kind of started to envy you now. You have those things which I wish I hadn’t lost on my way of growing up; a heart brimming with pure love and the warmth of sweet innocence. And look what has become of me? I am drowning in sadness, burning with hatred, pacing with worries, dealing with fears and battling with time. In short, I am not doing that great as you would expect. Being naïve and care free is really a blessing, you know? Because, once you get to know what the world is really like, there is no going back. I...

  Only recently did I come across the concept of ecobricks. Ecobricks are basically used plastic bottles stuffed with non-recyclable plastic material to set a density.  Instead of throwing used non-recyclable plastic in waste, which will eventually end up in land fills, we can twist and stuff such plastic waste inside bottles till it gets full. Such eco bricks are used in constructions, fencing, making furniture etc. It's inspired from this idea that this castle has been built. So that it can be used to stuff the waste plastic, at the same time it occupies a corner of the house as a beautiful show piece and a constant reminder to follow a sustainable living. #Reduce-Reuse-Recycle

Seriously, reduce your screen time and you won’t regret it. Technology is brilliant and phones are super smart, agree. But what has become of us? We have become extremely clingy and dependent on our dear phones like ‘until death do us part’. The fact we are oblivious of, is that we are turning into maniacs obsessed with a small electronic device, who seriously need to get a life. De-clutter  Smart phones have solutions for everything. Track your finances, manage your tasks, create playlists of your favorite songs, set reminders for important events, find routes to your destinations, spot nearby cafes, hotels, theaters and malls; just install a few apps and everything is right at your finger tips, only a swipe away. Yes, these are of course the positive sides which we prefer to see, given the highly optimistic people that we are. But on the root level, are these apps really simplifying our lives? Or are we voluntarily becoming slaves of technology?  The better way to think abou...

  I find my writings buried deep; beneath millions of verses- phrased by people unknown; leaving me crumpled and torn.   I stare at those neglected words as my will burns down to ashes; into the dirt, my thoughts downpour; And I ask myself, 'What am I writing for?'   Is it for a chunk of money or fame?  For a name or to be best in the game? With the 'neither and nors' tied in loose knots, I stumble upon my own thoughts. When the ink stains the flawless white sheet Amidst the stacks of strokes and curves, I discover That my writings is all me; wild, natural and raw And to be myself,  the words must flow.          

 

From where I am from, cooking is considered more than just a surviving skill. But I didn’t even know survival cooking. It all seemed so confusing. From measuring the ingredients to be added, to adjusting the flame of the stove, every thing just went over my head (No. I am not stupid even if it may appear so). I tried to avoid crossing the threshold of  kitchen as far as possible. I used to be the kind of person who opted to remain hungry rather than cook(obviously because I was fortunate enough to have a kind mother who cooked everything I liked and always made sure my hunger strike demands were addressed). Cooking was like the nightmare I wanted to wake up from, so badly.  A quarter century of my life had passed and on one fine Thursday evening, when the moon had marked his presence on the sky I finally got a kitchen all to myself. Pages were turned and a new journey had begun. The one I had to lead on my own. But I had to begin from scratch.  A bit of text book knowled...