#Januaryfalls18 16. Eunoia

#Januaryfalls18 16. Eunoia

“Hey, so you know what ‘eunioa’ means?”

“It is the shortest word where all vowels are present,”

I wrinkle my nose. “Okay, but what does it mean? It has to have a meaning, right?”

You think for a minute.

I love the fact that you didn’t say, “Google it yourself; why are you asking me?”

Then you smile.

“Eunoia means… a beautiful mind. A well thinking mind, such as yours.”

I blinked.


“You are the most learned person here, you know,” I poke your hips, which makes you grin in a way that gives me goosebumps.

“I said ‘beautiful mind’. If I fall sick, you know exactly what to do, without losing your head. You give me medicine, and food that i can eat and company. But when you fall sick…”

“Go on,” I whisper.

“I lose it. I wouldn’t know what to do. I feel helpless. You are strong and your mind” you knuckles rap the ride of my head slightly; lovingly. “is fit and works well and just



Well, I love you for saying that.

Ehh a little cheesy but doesn’t matter! I put it up!

My bae, Parvathi over at Queen Talks and I are attempting these prompts curated by Poetry Falls over on Instagram.



#Januaryfalls18 9. Dalliance

#Januaryfalls18 9. Dalliance

You said you wanted something

with no strings attached

with no complications.

Just a casual spree

you and me.

I agreed.

How could I not?

If it means that I get to spend time with you

for however brief time it is

I will take it.

Even if my heart gets shattered

and splintered.

Hey, two lines rhymed!

Parvathi and I are attempting these prompts, curated by Falls Poetry over on instagram.

#Novemberfalls 11. 11:11

#Novemberfalls 11. 11:11

the day I met you

the day I was born; the day

you saw me; the day

you were born: all fated to be

the same. to bring us closer.

A Tanka. Something inspired by my parents.

BTW, yesterday, it was their birthday! Yes, both my parents share the same birthday. Yes, it is unusual. No, it’s not fun for gifters like my sister and me.

Show my girl Parvathi some love! She is currently attempting these prompts with me over at Queen Talks.

#Octoberfalls 22. Sillage

#Octoberfalls 22. Sillage

The first time I saw you

it was straight out from

one of those rom-com flicks.

Your scarf hit my face and I

involuntarily inhale sweet, floral smell

very mild, with a hint of something

very human.

lingered on my collar and

you face behind my eyelids

like etched in stone.

I never saw you again

I wouldn’t even know what to say

if I did.

I totally love the watercolour painting that I did. The poem, not so much.

I am SO behind on this and I have only two days left to draw and write for a week’s worth of prompts. Oh God, help me.



#Octoberfalls 10. Held together by strings

#Octoberfalls 10. Held together by strings

“Hey! Be yourself!

You deserve to be happy!

But, can I make a small suggestion?

You know who you were,

the other day?

Please be that ‘you’!”

I am sick.

I am tired.

Who are these people,

telling me who to be and who not to be,

when they’ve only seen a sliver

of who I really am?

They want me to be the real me?

They want me to be true to myself?

Well, I hope they’re prepared to run because

they have helped me unleash the beast

within me.

I hate this society. I hate that the people that I really care about fall into this category. I hate that there is so little open-mindedness. I hate it, but I swallow it all up because if the majority of the people around you are like that, what can I do?

I suppose there are changes that I would love to make in this drawing, but I’m really happy with it.


#Octoberfalls 7. Knife’s edge

#Octoberfalls 7. Knife’s edge

chop. chop. chop. 

I am chopping up the vegetables for dinner tonight.

An elaborate dinner at my house, at my dining table which seats only four but there are 7 people coming for dinner and my mother will not stop pointing out why I have such a small table in such a small house when I have such a huge family. Or, when I could one day have such a huge family.

An extravagant dinner at my 2 BHK rented house with nosey aunties and helpful uncles, situated at the centre of the city where everything is in walking distance. And I can go everywhere in house clothes. No bra needed. Just with a huge sweater and a shawl and I am one of the homeless and unrecognizable and happy and serene.

I need to be my exuberant self, wearing a saree and being a “proper” lady or otherwise, the boy coming to this “dinner party” will think wrongly of me and, he will not marry me and what do I do then?!Who will marry me?!


I don’t want to be exuberant.


I don’t want to smile all night, filling everyone’s glasses with that horrible soda and make small talk with my siblings who don’t care to see me, as long as I send them money.


I don’t want to be pleasant. I don’t want to chit-chat with a dumb-looking stranger whom my mother and father want me to get married to.


I don’t want to “be” home when my husband comes in so I can take off his shoes and socks and remove his tie and take his bag and make him coffee and get shouted at because he had a bad day at work. I don’t want to be that woman who worships her husband just because he agreed to marry her. I will not be that woman who will offer her body to her “husband” because he felt like it.


I don’t want this.


I wanted a loving family. Small is beautiful.


Instead, I got this.


I was thinking of all the ways a girl in India is chained by social constructs, and how suffocating it is for us to not be able to live the way we want. It makes me angry and sad at the same time. Hence the poem.

This angry poem is dedicated to all free thinking women out there. Who don’t let the society define them or their clothes or their behaviour or their habits.