The semicolon;

Post dated: 3rd Feb, 2016

It is often that I see how others see me, and think about the past, going over how I would want my future. And in this frequency of thoughts, I once realised how much we’re all worth.

How much of an individual you are, and I am.
How we have capabilities and
potentialities and
sad-times and

How we all have hope through it all.

We are all certainly faced by pressure, and we live through it all.

We have regrets, excesses, sufferings and doubt

but at the end, we live through it beautifully


We thrive in this energy of reality. Of now.
No, really! Not the second that you started reading this post. Not the second you started reading this sentence. Only now.

In the semicolon of life that is in whole not 80 years or even 2, it’s in the moment of life that keeps you doing what you’re doing and adding on to it. And in that, there’s no death, only life. Life with a rainbow of sunshine after rainy days-even if that rainbow shies out after an age old winter.

It’s beautiful. Celebrate your semicolon, every second. ❤




Red was the prohibited colour of my childhood

No red on projects,
No red on books.
No red on bodies,
No red on looks.

We avoided the red pen,
The teachers focused on the same.
And there went our childhood,
With all of society to blame.

Then came college,
The red peeking through with shame.
We danced and sang,
And allowed red in the frame.

Talks of the prohibited,
Cultural identifications,
Epiphanies, oh simple epiphanies,
And genuine rebellions.

Now red is ours,
Ours to write with,
Ours to hold,
Ours to wear with pride,
Ours to mould.

Red is ours,
After years of captivity
After rules; obedience
But it is not the red of dictators anymore,
It is the red of our Freedom
It is the red of our Youth.


I wanted to express, through this poem, how I had to rediscover the colour RED because I had lost it in my childhood-due to the narrow-mindedness of society And RED for me is being confident and bold and everything that adulthood implies. Red lipstick, red dress, red hair, a beautifully red attitude is what I now embrace and I am proud of it


bold-red-hair-dye (1)


Female influencers.

Influence is an amazing thing. You can influence people to change their point of view, to take life-changing action steps – to do anything really. But that’s where the flaw lies. Grasping the reins of influence can teach you to free the animal you are impeding OR continue to pull his blinders tight. Put this together with female charms and it creates such a powerful bond of influence. And while I identify as a female influencer, I am disgraced by all those females who use their influence to use demeaning words and altogether shatter someone’s confidence.

I recently watched the third episode of TVF’s online show: Permanent Roommates. It featured a woman who was using her power as ‘the boss’ very wrongly. Softly ridiculing a dancer for having made a small mistake, she made me shudder there behind the screen. She made me feel like I was back in school, looking at my shoes for breaking a rule I never believed in. I waited patiently-after a few more conceited dialogues that made me sick-for the episode to take a turn for the better. And it did. Pheww. [The protagonist of the show put the woman in her place.]

After watching the video, I washed my face with cold water and looked in the mirror at the person I am.(sounds cliche, but it’s true) I recollected my abashed experiences with bad female influencers and a certain someone remained in my head for a long time.

The woman I remembered was the one who taught me that I’m can’t be on call with mumma for every decision I have to make. The day of my unforgettable bad experience with her, the woman had been walking with an air of superiority. The royal-blue auditorium (in her kingdom) was buzzing with college applicants. She asked me for my choice in college subjects. I was on call with my mom then so she mockingly asked me if I needed to be on call with my parents even for my choice of subjects at a could-be junior college. When I said “Just give me one second”, she said “I’m counting” and I cannot tell you how much that hurts now. It hurts me that in all of her small life, with all of her influence as a female, she thought most fit to use her two minutes to create a frightening college experience for someone. I stuttered a few subjects as was needed, asked what clearly seemed like ridiculously stupid questions, and walked out of that auditorium feeling defeated.

After two years of “blossoming”, as my mom puts it, at my (different) junior college, I do not feel defeated anymore. I’m not the victim of a situation anymore. And my reasoning goes as follows:

I strongly strongly believe that we’re all confused here. We’re confused about who we are, what we want from life, how we can achieve what we want and the list could continue till infinity. The “we” here ranges from the age of 1 till the end of life. Young or old, thin or fat, bold or meek, we’re all here trying to grasp this reality we’re placed in- the freedom and luxury of life. I believe that the least we could do in our journey of discovery, is not be an obstacle for the other lost souls that come our way. It takes courage and patience to be to be a good, powerful influencer. But in totality, that is the gratitude you pay for all those unnamed saviours who have helped make your journey a little easier.

For all those adults here who believe this post may not be for them-
Yes, after a certain point, our personalities are set, our temperaments are fixed. But was anything ever so strongly fixed that our minds couldn’t break it down for reconstruction? Think about it: maybe ‘growing up’ never ended.

Be a positive influence. ❤

Why I refuse to conform to what is beautiful.

As a lover of psychology, I know how the mind works with regard to finding something “beautiful”. An average looking face with symmetrical features is the general “beautiful”. Right since our birth as a baby, an attractive face is seen with amazement. Entering childhood, we gush about the perfection in such faces.”Perfection” we thought. Hallways brimming with young minds capable of anything-ANYTHING- think about symmetry in faces. We look up to these faces as inspirations and in the deepest pits of insecurity, wish we were as good looking-just so we could be “liked” more.

The reason such faces attract us so much is because we often falsely associate beauty with other positives like confidence, power, ability and success.

In reality, beauty is just a characteristic.

It doesn’t change anything about the person by itself and EVERY part of a person’s personality is created by will, through his/her life and as a result of his/her experiences.

Personally, the past two years or so have see me learn the truth about beauty. I have consciously and persistently refused to put the general view of beauty before my view of someone’s personality. The truth of beauty, in my view, is more beautiful than filled eyebrows, unrealistic curves, or luscious hair.

I believe that beauty can be culminated in those little things that a person fervently chooses to wear as his/ her identity. A desire to be different, unique and individual is my definition of beauty. An intelligent question, a thoughtful gesure, an abyss of dreams and ambition and a hold on oneself can truly reach the epitomy of beauty.

In conclusion, I wholeheartedly stand with the belief that beauty is created by a person’s intelligence-by what he/she chooses to express and how.

In the spring that is my youth, I hope to discover personality blossoming out of mouths and courage flowing through gestures. I hope to experience true beauty- the beauty of the mind.


Stripping off my thoughts

1st December:

Being bare is forbidden in this world. If you show a tad bit more of your skin, you are suddenly in disgrace and the world pushes you towards hell with their glaring, accusing eyes.

Till a year ago, I was blind about some of my strongest beliefs-having not thought of them as well. As I become more of a youth by the day, I wonder about the ancient v/s modern clothing controversy that is raging. What really are my thoughts on this?

Well, when I look at this matter I question mindsets. I wonder why it is such a sin to show more skin. Is the world trying to say that clothes define our personality? That we CAN judge a book by its cover and understand every aspect of its plot?

Well, this is what I gather from the mindset of the orthodox-a staring metaphor in the face of humanity.

I believe, and very strongly too, that this controversy is really a metaphor for our fears. We are scared to show the REAL us-to indulge, to pour our hearts out to the rest of the world, or even to a single person. We fear that sharing our deepest feelings, worries, hopes and secrets will make us VULNERABLE.

So now I think, does being vulnerable scare me? And surprisingly I hear my thoughts say ‘No.’

I am so overwhelmed at the change in my opinions over the past year or so.

I now realize that being vulnerable is NOTHING in front of acceptance. What is really lost through vulnerability and dependence in a person who accepts his/her failures and successes? In a person who accepts his/her real truth? Nothing.

Vulnerability is instead a wonderful thing. How can you lose something by being vulnerable when being vulnerable and sharing a part of yourself with others BRINGS you relationships?

So being bare and confidently so, is beautiful.

In my eyes, being bare is the beauty of allowing your world to cradle in someone’s world while being true to your actual truth.
It is not a sin.

Trembling words escaping through the crevices of a broken heart

I’m so different. So sexy. So different. So smart. So loving. So loved. Yet I am none of those things when he looks at her fleetingly when she is looking away. He smiles with her, admires her, loves her, beautifies her. He does none of that for me.When I realise this I feel cold. Cold and alone. Cold and unloved, uninteresting, unintelligent.

I notice her curves now, how they’re perfect with her smile and confidence. Everything seems beautiful about her when he’s with her. It makes a hollow in my heart so big. How can nobody else’s attention give me happiness. Why am I so alone in my life. He just doesn’t care anymore. He just doesn’t give a shit. About me, or my life. I care too much. And I shouldn’t care this much. I’ll just always be the outsider to his class. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care. I NEED to stop caring. Because I’m so different. So sexy. So different. So smart. So loving. So loved. I’m beautiful the way I am. And I don’t need him to beautify me.

~For all those high school crushes that broke your heart.

It’s incredibly difficult to just press a “DELETE” for those memories that can never truly escape.

But all we have is hope so young child, muster courage till again that heart takes its proper shape.

Featured image
Trembling words coming from steady lips.(Anushka Bhatnagar’s artwork)

Travelling homeward: Introspection.

“Everyone introspects, don’t they?” I thought, as I crossed the road holding a packet of chips in my hand, heading homeward. I went on to the gate and in those 10 seconds another multitude thoughts came to my head. “The most captivating thing about a human is their ability to think, surely. It’s so innate, and so individualistic. But then why is it that people portray that they don’t think of their actions or words really;and that they don’t seem to care about a less superficial view?”

Munching on the crips, I thought of one person, who had made me ask the first question of this post to myself just recently. I pushed the gate of my building ajar and slipped through, my mind in a blur. Walking on the grey and greying bricks I thought some more “Doesn’t everybody like reflecting their reflections into actions? It’s evident that they do, for I have been surprised by their responses to thoughtful dialogues many-a-times. Ah, maybe thinking so deeply is often too cumbersome.”

Wiping my feet on the green, aging mat that royalised our lobby, I lost once more against the ever competitive door of the lift. Waiting for my chance to use the facility I thought, “What if it’s the ignorance and bias in my head that’s not allowing me to see that there are many perspectives to a person? And then there is definitely that cliché factor of ‘what will society say?’, that makes us dance a masked dance throughout life.”

By the time this epiphany came to my head, I was at my doorstep, waiting for someone to open the door, anxious once again as to why the the house seemed slow to respond to my call. Finally I stepped into my home, coming to the conclusion that maybe to understand someone completely we need to fall in sync with their vagueness. We need to realise that even THAT aspect of them is acceptable considering that the battle against the troubles of life is fought only with the personalised, unaided weapons of our minds.

P.S. : You might want to read the title once more, it’s more than just that. 😉