Hello Ladies!

Hello Ladies ! This is something I want every woman to read because I know how I feel about myself when I read something powerful! That's exactly how I want you to feel :)

(& obviously the wonderful men who I know believe in this cause! )

I'd love to spread this little powerful thought amongst women because words are more powerful than any other form of revolution! If I am selected I get to perform this and spread this through a book published by them :) I believe it's a cause and I'm sure you do too :)

I've entered a Poem for the LITLIVE Mystory contest :) Genre is Spoken Word Poetry :) The entries that are selected will be called to perform in front of a panel of esteemed authors at Literature fest Mumbai in November :)

Please vote if you like my work :) Link is below!http://bit.ly/1gWs93i

Art is you, And you are Art

The little Sketch-pad lying in the corner,

It keeps your dreams intact,

In the fine lines and the sinuate of graphite,

Your future and you have made a pact

The dream catcher that you made for yourself,

It keeps your nightmares away,

And the poetries you write, The words you use,

They breathe out your thoughts and say :

That pick up the paintbrush,

And paint your future,

Go insane with the microphone,

Sing as though you hear no sound,

And let your ink pen be your milestone!

Dance as though your body,

Is swaying like the sea,

Crash the shore and go inwards,

And fill your mind with glee,

Don’t be demure and shy,

Be the million colors of the evening sky,

Be the midnight violets and the morning dawn,

Be the pretty black birds that you have drawn.

Be the art that flows out of your veins,

the kind that flows out of your lips,

Be the art that moves your hands,

The kind that sways your hips,

The art that strums the strings,

And the art that types,

The art that thinks and the art that writes,

Be the art that warms your heart,

Because Art is you and you are Art.

And The Mountains Echoed

Book : And the Mountains Echoed
Author : Khaled Hosseini
Publisher : Bloomsbury

And the Mountains Echoed :) I caught up with this book a little late but it has been the best thing I've read in a while.
It is Surreal. Completely takes you in. It is one of those books that actually makes you Time travel, through generations, places , atmospheres, events. It takes you on a journey. From Shadbagh to Kabul , to Paris, to the Greek Island of Tinos to San Francisco and then the book does this funny thing by taking you from Old-Age back to Childhood using a Farsi Nursery Rhyme! A small short story about the Div is the highlight!

The character sketch is brilliant and each character has a unique, sometimes strange yet beautiful feel.  From Pari to Abdullah to Uncle Nabi to Gholam each character has equal importance to the story. The story wouldn't be complete without any.  The old middle eastern charm along with  new age coming-out-of-the-closet-sections, the box with beautiful feathers and the big peacock feather to the reuniting of the siblings after years. The different edges to the same character of Nila and Maman and how different they feel due to their circumstances. The unrequited love between Nila and Nabi ! 

It encompasses Life Lessons, Relationships, Ego, Passion and Human Insecurities and binds it all so seamlessly! Hardly any books are read twice but I am sure I could read it again in some time and imagine the same beauty again !It is simple worded and concentrates on fine details and paints a picture in front of your eyes! Must Read!

PS- Mr Khaled Hosseini ! If you ever come across this review :  Your imagination is limitless! The details, the story , the winding of the events :) I am inspired, Sir.

Devoured

She was thirsting for his touch,
His bloodshot eyes, his delectable poise,
She wanted him to devour her,
To be extirpated by his charm,
Consumed,
She wanted to be read like she was a book,
Page by page, word by word,
His eyes reading the red leathered strong cover
His long fingers tracing the nuances of the crisp paper,
She wanted him to bend the corners of the pages he found to be abstruse,
And re-read them while sipping on a glass of red wine,
She wanted to be understood, taken in,
Mind and soul, body bones and flesh.
He was laconic, and she was long cursive handwriting,
He was churlish, and she was complaisant,
He was dangerous and she was innocuous,
He was like a mountain that couldn't be weathered by a storm
And she was like a stream that would keep changing shape and size,
He was the Mahogony Bonfire on her cold frosty winter's night,
Theirs was a tryst that couldn't be understood,

But little did he know,
That he was being devoured by her,
By the scintillating shine in her eye,
By the way she loved and the way she let poetry flow out of her crimson lips,
He called her meek and weak but he knew he would have to surrender to her strength,
She was the one who made ridges in his strong statuesque self,
He judged her, he chastised her,
but he wanted her, all of her,
Mind and Soul,body bones and flesh,
It hurt him that he could not have her,
because she was the stream and he was the mountain,
She'd left him way behind.