Obsessions.

Every now and then, I write about myself, about how I am just another person, and about how I am an infinity. Christmas, hot chocolate and love have always been mentioned here or there in my poetry. Here is a small and brief glimpse into my obsession:

  1. 2009: We stopped at a gas station to buy food and coffee. I was nine, so I ran towards the chocolates aisle in the store close by. Meanwhile, my dad bought me ad my sister hot chocolate, sandwiches and cupcakes. He bought coffee and sandwiches for him and my mom. So we got into the car with the best food ever and drove around the streets of Dubai, listening and singing along to classical Indian music. I remember the taste of hot chocolate, the sound of my sister’s giggle, my dad’s smile and everything in between.
  2. 2013: Four families got together to celebrate Christmas. The music was too loud but no one cared, and the food smelled like god himself. I was thirteen and fat, because I didn’t yet know that you could, by choice, not eat delicious food. Eating it seemed kinda obvious to me. So as everyone grooved to the music, I danced too and ate something once in while. It was a party worth remembering and that’s when I became best friends with the amazing people I was dancing with. Every since that Christmas, many games, life saving advices and lame jokes have followed.
  3. 2014: Ninth grade has been the show stopper. I was in a history class, talking to my girl friend when this other girl entered the class. For the next two years, I had been madly in love with this other girl. She was like a walk in a park, except that the park was an amusement park and the walk was actually crazy, jaw dropping, breath taking rides. She had beautiful eyes that looked like an eclipse, and a smile like the fourth moon of the fortnight, a bright crescent. Her eyes had dark circles under them, and her arms had cuts. And every time I saw either, they recited a different story and wonderful poetry.

I started writing in 2014, so these three have always been something I find myself using in my poems. Here are ten random questions that I am answering to tell you more about me.

  • Are you scared of heights?
    ∞ I am. I’ve been on the tallest building on Earth and still, height freaks out.
  • What is at the top of your bucket list?
    ∞ I don’t really have an order. But I’ve always wanted to go Greece or Amsterdam.
  • What is the first book you remember reading?
    ∞ As funny as this sounds, my first book was a comic called Tinkle. But my first novel was Percy Jackson.
  • What is your eye color?
    ∞ I’d say dark brown.
  • Do you hold any convictions that you would be willing to die for?
    ∞ None that I am aware of. But I guess I’ll know when I have to.
  • What is your biggest fear?
    ∞ I am Atelophobic (the fear of not being enough)
  • One thing you know now that you wish you had known as a kid?
    ∞ That fears exists, probably.
  • Do you judge a book by it’s cover?
    ∞ I try not to, but I might subconsciously.
  • What makes you angry?
    ∞ Everything?
  • What are you attracted to in a woman?
    ∞ Preferably bold, frank and wild.

I hope you know me a little better today. Also, a shout-out to Hello Lauren for nominating me for the sunshine blogger award.  Tell me more about you in the comments section below. You can ask me questions too. I cannot wait to hear stories about you.

Inside my head.

What do I think about? Is it love or my family?
Or is it a wonder trip and all-nighters?

I think of rainbow unicorns,
with soft wavy hair like my mother used to have,
and a horn that sharpens as a spiral,
much like my thoughts.
It has eyes like me father’s,
and crooked teeth that remind me,
of my sister.
It’s my family unicorn and it gallops in the sky.
I love them.
It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful.
Also ironically, real.

I think of Christmas trees,
with a line of golden bells and colorful things
that hold within them,
stories of smiles and tears.
It is green and smells like a new day,
and looks exactly like what I drew it to be,
back in second grade.
I am a pirate and it’s my treasure box.
I love my memories.
It’s not perfect, but it has a star.
Also ironically, the star is from the sky.

I think of hearts on the corner of folded pages,
with red sketched inside of it,
a red that reminds me of my girlfriends stubbornness,
and how she blushes.
The paper is creased but the heart is still complete,
and it reminds me of a very old,
romanticized war.
It is my life’s ‘profile picture’ and I’ve liked it myself.
I love sketching.
It’s not artistic, but it is elegant.
Also ironically, three dimensional and inside my body.


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Instagram handle: @myspirals

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Related post : Palettes of life.

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A list of things about her.

This is probably the shortest poem I’ve written so far, but I really liked the concept and wanted to do it. I hope you enjoy this and share it!


Here is a list of things she smelled of:

Sunlight.
Beginnings.
Expensive perfume.
Hot chocolate.
Feelings.

and a list of things she looked like:

A crisp white shirt.
Sushi.
Sunset.
Christmas lights.
Love.

A list of things she reminded me of:

Empty vodka bottles.
Terraces and stars.
Neck kisses.
Smeared mascara.
The color of sunlight after it hits a bottle of whiskey.
Life.

A list of things she was:

A dragon-slayer.
A smile despite a tiring day.
A favorite song on repeat.
My auto-correct.
Human and alive.
Home..
Mine.


If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

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Addictions and lies.

I’ve made the official Instagram handle for this page (@myspirals). Do follow and stay tuned. (If you’ve written and posted something that you want me to read, use the hashtag #ourspirals)


I’m addicted to coffee. There are more dirty mugs in my sink and empty coffee bottles in my dustbin than the number of people I trust. The first conversation I have in the day is with a steaming mug of coffee that smells of hopes and reality. I wrap my fingers around the warmth and let it wake me up, despite me not having slept at all last night. The bitter taste of coffee burning my tongue is like a pat on the back, and I am all for motivation. I am high on coffee every day.

I’m addicted to music. The melody is my drug and I cannot live without it. I sleep to the voice of Ed Sheeran and wake up to Selena Gomez. Which is why I’d ask you to ‘kiss me’ at night and have anxiety attacks as I run through the jungles of my mind like ‘wolves’ in the morning. I’d relate to the lyrics of a song more than have feelings of déjà vu’s. I’ve been called an introvert, but I am not. I am an extrovert and I socialize a lot with music.

I am addicted to lying. I have this weird habit of telling myself every morning I will sleep that night, even though it is nothing but a white lie. I’ve pretended to be over someone, even though I still look for them in the hallways of my university. I’ve said I am okay way too many times, for even that to be healthy. When you fake a smile often enough, it becomes a habit and your smile is reduced to being just a twitch in your muscles.

I am addicted to her. I am addicted to the way we read poetry to each other like lullabies on a Tuesday night, and the way she giggles at dark humor. I love the way she looks at me in dim lights, and the way she trips over nothing. I love the smell of her hair, honey and coconut. She isn’t sunshine. She is hot chocolate and Christmas.

But most of all, I am addicted to the way the butterflies in my stomach go crazy when she whispers in my ears as we take a sip from the warm mugs of coffee with ‘Skin’ playing somewhere in the house. “I love you too.” Oh, what a beautiful lie.


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Kisses and cravings.

“I’ll make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.” – Leo Christopher

The first time I kissed her, I lit up like a Christmas tree. Heat rushed to my cheeks, my cold hands warmed up, and I had goosebumps anyway.

Right before we kissed, I spent quite some time looking at her eyes. I noticed how her eyelashes curved like the corner of her lips, how her eyes were restless like the wind before a storm, how her skin made small crinkles around her eyes, and how her lips were chapped. I looked into her dancing eyes, and could hear my heart pumping the music. I grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer like the flowers moving towards the sun. I pulled her in so that our waists were touching, and our face were only inches apart. I looked at her biting her lips, I felt her fingers cold against my neck, I placed my hand on her cheeks and leaned in.

I leaned in and kissed her and felt like this was the last time I would. The rush of blood in my veins made me hold her closer and tighter to make sure she really stays. She tasted like a sunny afternoon, chilly beaches, and tanned skin. She tasted like the wine we would open on date nights. She tasted like late night cravings, and throat burning scotch. She tasted like wild sex, funny jokes and strip poker. She tasted of shooting stars and petty wishes. She tasted like a forever.

So I kissed her passionately and tried to say the things I’d failed to say before. It seemed to be easier when no words were involved. I let my cold fingers tell her that I’d give her wintry nights, cozy blankets and hot fries. I let the loud thumping of my heart against hers tell her that I’d be just as thrilled when I kiss her after a date thirty years down the line. I let my eyelashes against her eyes tell her that above all, my only wish is to have her forever. I tell her that I’d always stay with her and watch Netflix and drink hot chocolate, rather than going out to meet people we don’t like.

I felt it. Her chest against mine, I felt her heart beating with my heart and for the first time, I realized we were both alive, as she pulled on my hair.

“The way you feel when you kiss her (him) for the first time. Like fire within your bones, like your soul has returned to the water, like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again.” – Nikita Gill.


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