Alone

3:20 am. February, 2019.

The lights are switched off. The light entering through the blinds is so dim that there’s hardly any difference, except for the faint stripes on the ceiling.

The only luminous object in this room is my phone, making visible to me nothing more than the screen and my thumbs tapping away on the keyboard.

The silence is the kind that, when I try to focus on it, I can hear the high pitch that my own brain is producing. It’s the odd sensation that is the utter absence of sound.

The comfort of the silence, the solitude, and the lack of desire to sleep form a scenery of me huddled up in the blanket, back resting upright on a pillow against the bed board, suddenly inspired to put my thoughts into words.

Perhaps that is why silent solitude is so comforting. Amidst the constant waterfall of people and noises and environment, It’s like dropping a pebble in a pond. It’s a poignant, distinct sound of the plop and the ripples. Singular, small but distinct. At this very moment, I am surrounded only by myself. The silence makes path for my thoughts to be amplified, the darkness is a barrier of distraction.

These fleeting, and rather rare moments where I am so aware of everything I am doing- the words and images in my brain, the dynamic pressure on my thumbs as they type, the tug on my scalp from my hair in a bun, the folds of the blanket: leave me inspired. Inspired to listen to myself. Inspired to be blissful in nobody’s company but my own.

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Sunset at Aao Nang Beach

A chilled drink in hand

My swimsuit clinging to my skin

After hours of skipping and splashing

I’m seated, relaxed from within.

Like the artists pallete

The sky a canvas sprayed with hue

Sunlight peeking past the clouds

Dipping from the pink and purple to blue.

The ocean sparkling like a night sky

The last of sunlight glimmering on waves

While the sun descends ever so softly

While at the beautiful sight I gaze.

I watch a boatman return from the last ride

I watch a toddler in wet sand play

The breeze, the sight, unwinding at Aao Nang

The end to a blissfully perfect day.

A Dip By The Beach

Barefoot in the warm sand

Letting a toe into the sea

My wary self descends gently

Submerged in water, I am free.

My feet find the soft sand

The cones tickles my chin

I waddle gently across the ocean

Cool waves rippling against my skin.

A tender roar I hear far-off

My eyes meet the sight

Foamy, frothy, curly white waves

Whoosh unto themselves with might.

While lycra sticks to my body

It approaches, backwards it impels

In a matter of seconds, it dissipates

into sand, leaves behind sea shells.

Unwound, surrounded by nature

Relaxed, enveloped in peace

Savouring every timid second

Of the dip I took by the beach.

~inspired by Railay Beach in Krabi, Thailand 😀

Mother’s Day

Hello! The previous Sunday was Mothers’ Day. Essentially, every day is Mother’s Day- not a day should go by where we don’t appreciate and return all the love she gives us. I made my mother a card- with koalas of course- my current obsession. I feel it really does capture those sleepy afternoons where I snooze on my mum’s back while hugging her. Love you mum ❤

I’m Back! An apology poem-

I apologise quite dearly for

The inconvenience I’ve caused.

Well to be honest it’s not much

But a lot of precious time lost.

 

It’s been about a month (or two)

Since I’ve neglected my blog

But halt! I do have an excuse

I’ve been working quite a slog.

 

Now you may be sceptical

And wonder suspiciously how

A twelve year old is kept so busy

To that I shall give the answer now.

 

Exams! Yes, those deadly things

Which upon my brain were hacking

Wish I had the acumen to balance both

But for me, common sense is lacking.

 

But now that I’ve been released!

From this shackled vortex of toil

No more swotting up (for now)

My head in lesser of a coil.

 

My heart and soul is back

Devoted back to my little site!

Stay tuned for more poetry

(unless I forget- which I might.) 😛

The Quilled Ones

Hey friends! I was in a crafty mood again today, and so I tried out 3D quilling! For those of you who don’t know, quilling is the art of wrapping strips of paper in coils to form an image or a figure. Here is my first (and poor) shot at quilling:

I wrote a poem on them too! Check it out…

Made of coloured paper
Twirled round and round,
Once shaped together,
With glue we are bound.

Different strips of many hues
Modeled into one,
Making us, the Quilled,
Is really a lot of fun.

Taking some sheets and
Trimming them down
Sticking them together
For making a gown.

Take the little needle
And insert the point
Make swirl and swirl
Then tape up the joint.

Take your little finger
And push the middle high
Shaping it into a dome
Is easy to try.

Make our faces
And make our clothes
Make sure they are perfect
Then stick ‘em close.

We thank you, o human
For making us
For being our Creator
Without fear or fuss.

I even made a video of them singing it. And before you comment on how hideous my voice sounds, I’ll let you know that I DID NOT use my real voice, for I wanted it to suit the quilled models!! 😀 Hope you like it:

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5VaIig5drjc/U4s07dV38VI/AAAAAAAABeU/wldAdlV62bY/w346-h194/Jhil+quil.3gp

Arts And Crafts

Hello!
A few days ago, I learnt how to make some beautiful roses out of paper. Aren’t they awesome? Here they are:

I made all of them, but the grey one and the black one was made by my sister. I must say, (not being boastful), all of them seem pretty good to me!
Well, anyway, making these roses inspired me to write a short poem about doing crafts work. So… here goes 😀

Are you feeling super bored?
Feel like you are all alone?
Feeling that all interest is gone….
That fun has dried into stone?

Shut up! There’s a lot
For you to do right now
Cause I, the crafts goddess
Have come, down you bow.

Pick up the colour paper
Squeeze the bottle of glue
Snip and snap with scissors
And carry glitter with you!

Bright and lively paints
And a colourful mud sheet
Different kinds of cutters
And a paintbrush so sleek.

Pens cursive and felt-tip
Use stickers, all so bright
And skate with your crayons
Like fireworks through the night!

Make everything turn and twist
Make the paper waltz and dance
Allow sparkle and markers to invade
Tell the crafts to shout and prance!

Because when art chooses to invade
Crafts scream out “COME ON!”
Let joy fly out in colours
All boredom will be gone!
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hope you enjoyed!!! ❤

Mango

The wintery spring has glided away and the warm days of summer slowly march forward here in India. Yes! Summer has just started and started putting all sorts of pleasant summer thoughts in our mind. Shining stars, running around, welcoming the birds, and gorging on the yummy fruits of the warm season!
In a couple of weeks the markets will be in rage for all kinds of juicy luscious Indian mangoes, and so I wrote a kind of funny-ish poem about them- from the view point of the fruit itself!
So let’s welcome the narrative from Mr. Mango: ……

I am a little mango
fleshy and yellow
I am the most tasty
fruity little fellow.
I have a very big heart
that you see when eating me
Don’t thank me (or your tongue)
Thank the seed of the mango tree.
I may be quite tiny
But to taste buds I am kind
Of me there are many
All are easy to find.
If you’re sweet in your heart
To all people you meet
I’ll be yummy in your tongue
Either tangy or sweet.
I’m also strong because
When you peel of my skin
I don’t get at all hurt
Though it’s pretty thin.
Once peeling me is over
I very happily reveal
My yummy and pleasurable
Fruitful breakfast meal!
Then pass five minutes
Your mouth filled with joy
The juicy, fleshy layer of fruit
You shout out: “Oh Boy!”
You know the juice dribbles
Down upon your chin
But I am so delicious
That just isn’t a sin.
And when that done
All remains is the seed
I’ll then live your tummy
Having done a tasty deed.
But that little left seed
Can be planted with care great
And once more a tree will pop on up
For me to be in your breakfast plate!

Friends Together Again

>When my father was in school, he shared a close friendship with some of his schoolmates. Their bond was so strong that they were quite inseparable. Even when they left school and parted ways, their pure, soft flame of friendship never broke. Two months ago, Papa had gone to the U.S for a business trip. When he reached, he met his old friends. He mailed to me….:

Hi Dear,
I met some old friends of mine after many years – Mama can show you the picture. I want you to write a poem for me about meeting old friends and how good you feel – going down the memory lane , maintaining childish thoughts – as if we are meeting after a day and not 20 years .. something about child friendship which does not die but keep the flame on which is pure , soft and not driven by materialistic world …. so on and so forth.
Love, Papa ♥

And so, that moment, I went into Papa’s mind and imagined how it would feel to meet my cherished friends after 20 years. This is what I came up with:

HELLO AGAIN

I have grown a beard
My smile is quite old
And yes, I have a family!
My life’s in perfect mould!
I have rules and terms
I follow them well
But have you ever felt
That urge to go and dwell?
To forget my age
And simply transform
Into simple schoolboy
My heart young and warm!
My friend, I have told you.
I am not that young anymore.
From that little point,
I have reached miles galore!
But that doesn’t change
The little, precious fact
The flame from the time we met
Yes, it stays exact.
Even though I’m not young
I’m still that little boy
Who treated life carefree
Like a tiny toy!
I still remember when
Together we linked arms
Played pranks on friends
Made with teacher charms.
Laughed and ran out to play
And see if our gang
Had scored enough goals yet
And get that childish pang!
Fought madly over
The possession of a pencil
Like a squabbling ducky
Or a banging utensil.
Ran with windy speed
To avoid laying shadow
On one another
On this we were mad-oh!
I’ll never forget how
We walked to homes of each other
Hoping for Auntie’s delicious treats
Like sister and brother.
Oh, the times we had
when we were tiny growing seeds
Carrying out funny plans
And naughty boy misdeeds.
My friend, keep listening.
Even though it’s twenty years
The child-y flame’s blazing
Warding of the fears.
Till now, you and me
Are best friends in and out
The truth is in the air.
Not even a point to shout!
If we are in different places
And thousand miles apart
I’m Arindam and you’re my BFF
Young, loving from heart.

Just A Minute

In DPS, the school I go to, their is an annual session held called ‘Just A Minute’, short for JAM. A specific student from their entire grade is chosen and at the great day they are given a topic and have to speak on it for a complete minute. No more, no less, on the spot. This year and also the year before I was selected, and I’d like to tell you how I felt in the form of a poem…:

Slouching in the backstage,
Knees knocking in fright
A couple seconds later
I’d go into the glaring light.
Me. Alone. The audience.
That’s it. I’d have to speak.
My head focused on the topic
My brain bright, body bleak.
I wouldn’t see the on-lookers
In the dark Audi where they sit
But the spotlight right upon me
They’ll see me. This is it!
TAPASMI! Calls the narrator.
Oop! It’s my turn!
My hair is flying past me
My insides begin to churn.
My topic to me is given.
I see it on my chit.
Suddenly I’m elated
My eyes are bright and lit.
Ideas pile inside me.
I begin to say all.
This is easy and quite awesome
In light-headedness I might fall.
So much I want to share
So much I want to tell
I converse with audience
Before rings the bell.
Chat-chat, tell-tell,
I overload with speech
Till the very last happy moment
I hang on like a leech.
And, oh, the victory!
First prize I have won!
My friends begin to hug me
And upon me shines the Sun.