Life update: two


In the post – 365 – I announced that I’m going to post a life update on the 16th of every month. You can skip it altogether if you’re not interested in anything but poetry. I didn’t realize that yesterday was the 16th of January and so I missed my life update. I’m super sorry and here it is: my second life update.

Well, it’s time to disconnect. I believe there are three things every writer wants to their name by the time they’re 60: a nice book, a great song, and love. A few months ago, I decided it was time for the first of three. I already have the character sketches and outline written but I wanted to be in the right mind space before I started with the writing process. I’ve wanted to get away since my tenth-grade finals got over. I have traveled and been to places for work but never with the intention of ‘isolating’ myself from the world.

On the 21st, I leave for Mumbai, one of the busiest city of India. For those of you who haven’t heard stuff about Mumbai, here’s a quick guide – a) It is filled with people and b) It is super driven. Some would call it the New York of India. Why did I choose a place filled with people to isolate myself from people? For the drive every artist feels when they stay in Mumbai. I’ll go to deserted parts of the city and stay alone but I want the city’s energy, the city’s rhyme and reason to push me forward.

(I will keep posting, though. Every Monday, Thursday and Saturday as promised)

Other than that, I’ll list a few things going on in my life as of now. Tell me what’s going on in your life in the comments section below.

First, I’ve been super obsessed with the word ‘super’ lately but not much by words in general. It isn’t writer’s block or laziness, I think. It’s just that your words seem to hold a lot more value to me than mine lately, which is a good thing. I’ll be back on track soon.

Second, I’ve been listening to a lot of songs lately. My favorite has been ‘Kiss me’ by Ed for a long time now but I’m open to suggestions.

Third, I have a shitty routine but I’ve been working on it lately. It’ll get much better after the Mumbai trip but yeah. I guess all of us have shitty routines at one point in our lives.

Fourth, Cinematography has been calling out to me lately. I’m definitely going to try my hand at it and see where it goes. One thing is certain, I’ll definitely up my Instagram game with it soon enough (so you might want to follow :P).

Fifth, there’s this yearly fest in India called Spoken Fest where writers, singers, YouTubers, and other famous creative artists perform for a huge crowd every year. I haven’t been to one to see yet, but I do hope to perform in Spoken 2020. One of my resolutions. What are yours?

I’m sorry this was so long. I hope you liked it! Keep reading. I’ll post a poem this Saturday. See you then 🙂


Why should I man up?

Why should I man up?

I guess this needed to be addressed, too. It’s super important to realize that men can be men and still do anything human. Women can be women and still be human. Here’s what I want from you today. Smile and love yourself and others a little. Okay? I hope you like this poem. Do comment.

“Man up”
She said.
And so I put down the picture of my dead mother,
stopped crying, trembling, shaking
and smiled.
My eyes were still wet,
And all I could think about was if she had really just asked me,
to man up?
“Boys don’t cry.”
Of course, we do.
We have our heart broken,
We have our trust burnt in flames,
And we live every day just like you do.
We cry.
“Don’t be such a pussy”
If protecting innocent kids from being bullied,
having phobias and doubts,
Talking to a girl when she feels low,
Not passing mean comments with my friends,
And actually liking a girl
Is being a pussy,
Then I will be one.
“Boys will be boys”
Not all of us will break your hearts,
Haven’t you ever spoken to the shy one?
We respect you,
I respect you.
Not all of us will break your trust,
or text you just to flirt.
We need friends too.

These things
make us human.

Instagram: @myspirals
Previous post : 60 and in love.

Give me prompts in the comment section below and share if you liked this! (And yes, if you read enough posts on this blog, you’ll come across one exactly like this. I had to repost this because it’s important and there are so many new readers now)

60 and in love.

60 and in love.

A dialogue/story-telling piece. I hope you like it! Give me prompts or tell me if you liked this or share your love story in the comments section! I’m looking forward to it. I hope you enjoy reading this! 🙂

“What does it feel like to be 60 and in love?”

“Routine and magical. We’ve only been together since I turned twenty-eight but I could swear even a day with him feels like a forever. You know how everyone wants a forever? He gave me forevers. Plural. I don’t know why I’m an English professor :P. When we went on our first date, he told me he was obsessed with Christmas, hot chocolate and love. On our fifth date, I found out why. Three more dates later, we had hot chocolate from the same cup. Thirty-two years later, we are madly in love. It’s very similar to what reading your favorite book for the fifth time feels like: you know all of the story and you know almost every word, but the ‘almost’ always means there are surprises.

Once, he wrote me a letter while we lived in the same house. It was addressed “to my nutty Belgian dark chocolate ice cream”. He posted it, and waited for it to come back. Throughout the letter, he spoke about me as if I was his favorite ice cream, his knight in shining armor, and his favorite season.

I try to think of a time when we weren’t together but I never can. That makes me very glad. I know I lived twenty-eight years without him but every time I think of some childhood memory, he’s always there in the frame. Hiding behind curtains for every time I think of home and sitting in cup holders for my family long drives. I think it’s because I’ve told him the story so many times that it no longer is only mine. Together, we’ve lived 120 years worth of memories and we know what every one of those felt like: like nutty Belgian dark chocolate ice cream. In other words, every memory, together or not, was yum. I should not be an English professor.”

“That sounds amazing. What do you need me for, then?”

“I’m 60. My forever can end any day. Who do you go to when you’re scared if not to a therapist?”

Previous post: It is okay.
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Also, tell me if you like the huge capital first letter.

It is okay.

It is okay.

You can call this part two of Travel Bird if you want to. In both, we’ve only discussed how you should live. In this particular post, I wanted to talk about so many things we stop ourselves from doing for the weirdest reasons. Don’t stop yourself. Enjoy! And comment, a lot.

Go ahead.
Stand taller than everyone else,
Fall apart.
Feel afraid, or
Among smiles of
Chapped lips
And wrinkled eyes.
Speak out
Tell us what’s right,
Share your dreams
Nightmares, or
stories of your petty fights.
Praise every other heart that still beats,
And love the music
Pumping through your veins,
Just like it is,
Through every one else’s.
Let your hands fumble on the knob,
And your heart break.
Feel dead,
And then come back to life.
Be happy at times.
And at times don’t be afraid
to drown.
Do it all, love.
It is okay.

Previous post: Something about Naomi
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Also, tell me if you like the huge capital first letter.

Something about Naomi.

Something about Naomi.

There’s a quote that made me believe there’s poetry in everyone. Every story we hold within ourselves has a different rhyme scheme. I want Naomi to become one of those stories, too. Would you like that? Also, tell me the craziest thing in your bucket-list.

Some random things you should know about Naomi. She was fascinated by how you could see the northern lights in the eyes of people you loved if you looked with enough passion. She loved animals and could never cage them, not even metaphorically. Naomi always believed love to be soothing – something similar to hot showers in winters or over-sized t-shirts or maybe even happy songs her dad used to sing for her. Her favorite trip had been to the Araku valley where every turn of the road reminded her to breathe and every drop of the sky took her breath away. She often wished on fallen eyelashes and then kept them in a box and called it her bucket-list.

When she met Liam, love felt nice. It came hidden in glances, drunk texts, butterflies, confessions. The first time Naomi saw him, it was in a library. She was reading poetry out of a yellowed book when he fell for her. I mean, fell because of her. He hit his foot on the edge of her chair and tripped. Her first thought when she saw him: poetry and hot chocolate. Her rhyme and reason. His brown eyes were giggling as he got up to his feet and that’s when she had her first crush ever.

Soon, they were dating. Everything was going well except every time he did something different, she would love him a little more. He was crazy. One morning, he set up a canvas and started painting: he drew a pair of eyes, joined at one end to resemble an infinity. One of the eyes was his, the other was hers. Every night when they went to sleep, they would whisper ‘I really like you’ against the other’s neck and then kiss. It took weeks for her to confess her love but confess she did. One night, she leaned in and whispered ‘I love you’ instead. She never could’ve kept this secret for too long.

I don’t know if you remember but she loved animals and could never cage them, not even metaphorically; and she had way too many butterflies in her stomach.

I’ll tell you about her bucket-list some other time.

Previous post: The closet for the stars.
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Also, tell me if you like the huge capital first letter.