Wings of Ink

 I had been meaning to write something down for the past couple of weeks, however, I ended up deleting over half of the drafts. I started envying my younger self who used to write anything (which seems really kiddish at this point) and yet felt so confident. At first, I inferred that it was a writer’s block, but I soon realised it wasn’t that my thoughts didn’t take shape; rather, it was the nagging voice at the back of my mind that wondered whether what I wrote would make sense to others, or if it would be too generic. The hesitation and doubt were an invisible barrier that prevented me from writing my heart out, which compelled me to resort to writing more objective pieces. A bit more thought made me realise that it wasn’t just about writing, the same issue extended to all areas of life (at least for me). There was this constant strive for everything to be in order, to be perfect and to be accepted and in turn, I wasn’t ever happy with any form of self-expression be it thro...

As a general habit of checking my mail inbox before going off to bed, I opened the mail yesterday only to be greeted by news updates announcing some “National Creator’s award” which to me was really surprising because I personally never really gave much thought to the vlogging channels or say motivational speakers and all that would just be the vain suggestions of my YouTube feed. I woke up today telling my parents how Aman Gupta (Shark Tank has become a family show for us these days) had also been nominated in a particular category. While we were just discussing how the media landscape was helping many people transform their lives, my dad holding a newspaper in his hand remarked how the awards had already been announced, and then the discussion over breakfast continued to be about different creators from RJ Raunaq, to BeerBiceps and to Maithili thakur. I consider myself a very idealist person, and non-conventional paths, especially in careers, have always intrigued me. So, I began r...

  Another day, another evening, The mundane scenes continuing, News of disasters, marriages of stars, And numerous everyday accounts. That is, until the lights went out!   Darkness crept in, Everything finally became still, All I could hear was the ticking clocks, And the heart racing, afraid of tales of “ghosts” in the dark…   Those few seconds, Gave way to a different realm, A free world, for in the dark I found freedom- to let my mind wander and dream.   The dark perceived otherwise ominous, Became a canvas my imagination would paint, The stillness made me plumb own thoughts, The darkness allowed me to befriend myself.   My mom called out, asking if I was scared, And soon the lights came back, With a bittersweet smile, I bid adieu To the newfound alliance with the dark and quiet . . . To the beauty of introspection and solace of solitude And mainly to the societal notions Which dared to call my dea...

Lost in numbers, assets and objects Trying to find futile excuses for living amongst these worldly acquisitions Trying to find a confirmation of being alive Forgetting Vivid paintings that make us see, not just look The passionate music that makes us listen, not just hear The heartfelt poetry that makes us think, not just act Dances, plays and orchestras The wondrous art that truly makes us alive instead of simply breathing

In those dark hours of night, The quiet seems to be audible, The silence speaks It speaks to those dreamers, staying up to make them come true It speaks to the poets, Who meaningful thoughts do pursue But silence speaks It speaks to the passionate ones awake While every other takes rest It speaks to those artists Who paint pictures of depth, But silence speaks

  How long will materiality define our emotions? Where to go if loved ones mislead the way? Is it too hard to believe that you can live in? Solitude, on your own terms with nothing to dismay.   My attachment isn’t to objects inanimate Neither people, nor pets What makes me want to live is an Unseen, unheard, invisible debt   A want to experience The contentedness of publishing a book The feel of playing piano in spotlight The vibe of a renaissance look   To spill the paints on a blank canvas To dance on the road like a maniac To drive a car with sad music on To become a philosophical brainiac   These desires out of question instill a want to see in reality Two different worlds coexisting together The world of dreams where everything becomes real, The world of reality where hope rises out of superficiality  Khushi_M

 Of billions of heads, the people, A handful I  knew(ow), Counts my entire world, My personality does ensue  I saw(ee) the others more cool, And a growing itch to change,  But of these innumerous people, Perhaps someone would be as strange:  I ( we)say  ‘no one is there for me’ And decide to shut out the world But I had forgotton the yet many unknown, On this shore, I am left, around some pearls.    This negative world, an apparent stance A predisposed attitude, But happenstance , there are people it seems That need to be treated with gratitude  Good spirits yet all wear the human masks, There are still uncrossed paths, It will take time and betrayals to, Discover the ones with unjustifiable love.  There are people who will rescue you. Most times ‘are’ just counts for ‘few’, But Given the chance, and taking chances, it seems There are some people that need to be treated with gratitude.

Our new school session started two weeks ago with a surprising announcement that most of us - the students - did not like. We had to attend the online classes with our cameras turned on, and we had to wear our school uniforms! A week passed by and slowly we got accustomed to the new habit. But one day in our class, a student asked the teacher to turn on her camera. Even though she switched on her camera, but only we knowhow much effort it took from us - the students - to convince our teacher! Later that day, I wondered why many of us hesitate to show our faces during online meetings? Is it because we have been given an option to hide ourselves or is it that our mind tells us that we are not looking good enough to be on camera? I believe when we are at home, all of us reflect our true selves; some without makeup and some wearing shirts with pyjamas.  Is that why we think twice before  switching on our camera? Is it a fear of revealing  our true identity that comes in our w...

On a beautiful Sunday evening, I was downstairs, waiting for my friend to come. As always, she took so long to get ready and step out of our house. I was counting the minutes I had been waiting for her, when suddenly I heard some noise from the bush. I looked behind, unable to see anything in the dark bushes. Then, once again the same disturbing hustle in the bushes and unexpectedly, I heard the wailing of two cats fighting so bad with one another that I got scared. One was a black cat and the other was white. They were over each other, running so fast, and screaming so loudly that I started to shiver. I decided to look somewhere else and then I had a rare sight. A pigeon who didn’t know how to fly fell from a high branch and stumbled, as it fluttered its wings. It was about to land near the bushes. I think it must have seen the two cats fighting; it suddenly decided to change its destination and soared very high up in the sky I heard another voice, someone calling my name – “Khushi, w...