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.

Vacation

Hello there!
Haven't written in a while, have we?
We usually feel like writing at ungodly hours like 1:22 AM.
It's our little problem.
By we I mean me and my inner-in-black-peeptoes-and thick-mascara-audrey-hepburn-looking-inner-goddess.

So the problem for the nightis,
I don't do what I love.
I've been doing Data Sufficiency all day . I could throw up. I WANT A VACATION.NOW
This generation, we all have a problem.We all constantly need a vacation.
WHY?
Because the daily rut's not a vacation.
So what's a vacation?
Its not just traveling to fancy places and drinking expensive wine and adventure and shopping and getting spa rituals, NO! Its just loving life, each moment of it, unwinding but being occupied, not sleeping, being wide awake, breathing, feeling the breath.
I think a vacation is loving what you do and doing what you love.
Doing that thing that gives you instant gratification from all the burden of life.

That thing for some people is travel, paint, sing, write, fly like a butterfly, aaah, what rose-tinted-visuals.
& no sir, you don't need a vacation if you do what you love all your life.
I am looking for that one thing, that I can do, that I love, where I won't want a vacation, where I will earn lots of money and yet live each moment like I'm gliding through (Read:Greedy Pleasures).
All of that.

But alas! Here I am. Studying when I should be sleeping. Writing when I should be snoring. Having lunch at high tea. Its a mess. Recommendation Letters. Statement of Purpose. Stupid MCOM, Bad professors. GMAT in 25 days. Its so tiring, mundane, hectic, Its all so blah. I miss everythingggg. The life, the bests, the boys, the late nights. I've been grounded. By myself. Its necessary.

But you know what gets me through?
That I'm on my way,
To my Vacation :')

Ps. I have repeatedly warned you that things that are written at this hour should never be used as a reference to judge me , *runs away*

Et tu, Brute

William Shakespeare,

He was pure genius.

I had a hate-love relationship with him in school. I loved Julius Caesar,  hated Macbeth and loved Merchant of Venice. Romeo and Juliet was beautiful, The tempest was like a conjurer's dream and Hamlet was pure boring. But when I say hate-love, whatever I felt the stories always demanded a strong reaction. They couldn't be ignored. It demanded of you to form an opinion with real raw emotions. Today we read books -  good and bad. There are books that make you go crazy. The alchemist did that for me. But there are so many that just pass by and you never look back. He could never make that happen. 

That was his magic. 

 I had a phase when I tried talking like his characters.The dramatization, poetic emotions, passionate characters, murder and insecurities, love and lust. It enthralled me. His works were life-like. His characters imperfect. They were like you and I. They were just more honest about their emotions.

Of course, now there is this new theory saying he was they and Shakespeare was a pseudonym.

His language was arcane but somehow his words touched you. They had a certain depth in them. He created an atmosphere that set perfect pictures in front of your eyes. All books do, but these were vivid colored pictures. I haven't read any of his works since school but the stories and phrases were he kinds that remain etched in your memory. I still fear the Ides of March (Something Bad always happens) , I wish life had time pauses where I could come out and recite a Soliloquy. In fact there are times when my mother catches me talking to myself (Read: I am not mad) , and I put the blame on Shakespeare. I do a little literary genius strut and tell her its my version of a Soliloquy. My inner goddess does a cat stretch with her chin up. 

The point being,  we owe him so much today.

We don't realize but there is so much we say, so much we do, the thoughts we feel, the wit that we think is ours -  that we owe to him .

Knock- knock !Who's there? - Yes, we joke because of him.  

I smell "Foul Play" but I'm going to stand by my opinions, "Come what May." 

Lovers that we are we say , "Love is blind" and he is the "Heart of hearts."

 To pamper our ego we quote, "The world is my oyster" and the incessant pride is what we owe to him. 

On confessional days we "Wear our hearts on our sleeves". 

A beggar is a "Sorry sight" and a stupid man is a "Laughing Stock."

 When we are nervous we waited with "Baited breath"  and it "makes your hair stand on ends" and once the results are out "What's done is done." 

When someone dies, "He breathed his last" and "He vanished into thin air" and then follows the philosophy of life and death and how nothing is permanent , 'All the world's a stage".

There is "Good Riddance" of the "Green Eyed Monster" because  we finally "Sent him packing." 

"For Goodness' sake" let me sleep "I haven't slept a wink". 

The "Naked Truth" is that we "break the ice" and make new friends  because "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." 

We say good people have "A heart of gold" and bad people are "Devil's incarnates" 

We have "Seen better days" but "Too much of a good thing" is bad.  

We shouldn't be "Faint hearted" and we should "Fight fire with Fire"  because once the "Game is up" we will all be "as dead as door-nails."

 Life is a "Full Circle" and we should "Play fair" to make it a "brave New World." before  the "Game if up" 

Oh, Shakespeare, you were a "A piece of Work" 

ps. There are SO many more. Read them on http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/phrases-sayings-shakespeare.html.

Indescribable

Never tried writing fiction. Shouldn't try next time either . Nonetheless New is Good.

***



He was domineering. Smart and Sassy. Thick Nerd Glasses and a rusty stubble. He was intelligent, hawk-eyed and exclusively honest. It wasn't a pleasure to be in the same room as him. He had hard looks, a sculpted face and deep eyes. He was constantly observing, judging, forming opinions maybe? He was a pure-heart that was engulfed by an over practical mind. He hated showing his emotions and acted as though he had none.


She was statuesque. Tall, Long Neck , Wavy brunette locks and sharp featured. Her integrity was seen sparkling right through her face. She had an audacious charm. She was intimidating and arguing with her was taking on a hellish task. Old school, conservative but liked her rum and coke on odd days. She was a feminist and she'd not stand a word against a woman. She was fairy-tale-like in the inside and wanted to be rescued but outside she would act as though nobody needed to rescue her. She wanted to be her own hero but secretly dreamt like a 17 year old. She was powerful but sometimes the forced kind of powerful.

They were hypocrites. Strong on the outside , weak in the inside.
But their strengths and their weaknesses were opposites.
She was Right brained and he was left brained.
They had different strengths and different weaknesses, but together they were neutralized.
They couldn't stand each other but they couldn't do without each other either.
Their egos pampered and hurt each other together.
It was unsaid, undone and unrequited. It was needless because their wasn't any need to show, to do.
They could talk for hours but never agree and if they agreed it would be a catastrophe.
They were like magnets which faced their positives to each other and repelled. The repulsion was extraordinary. They flipped turned and got attracted and once again flipped turned and repelled.
It had no future no past, no start no end. It was constant.
It didn't lead anywhere now was it increasing or decreasing.
It wasn't love, or lust or sexual desire. It wasn't cheesy, it wasn't hatred. It wasn't the opposites attract and get together either.
It was some force some power ?
It was this force that was indescribable.

Theirs was story that had no end,
No fullstop,