Summer Special
On the raw, chopped pieces of heartbreak,
Lay the sting of old memories with the tang of new experiences
A sprinkling of spicy promise
Lightly dusted with salt of good hope
And simmered in the heat of a new season.
Summer is here.
On the raw, chopped pieces of heartbreak,
Lay the sting of old memories with the tang of new experiences
A sprinkling of spicy promise
Lightly dusted with salt of good hope
And simmered in the heat of a new season.
Summer is here.
I dressed up for a Christmas special dance workshop.
…is the name of a book by the guy who wrote ‘The Fault In Our Stars’. I happened to mention what an amazing title that was and what a shitty book it turned out to be. My AlphabetSambar peeps suggested we reclaim it by writing something else around it. And…
“He isn’t quite a male chauvinist, just an Indian man.” said a review about a character. What does this mean? I looked at the men in my life through this lens.
In my 20s, I was made to pick a side in the battle of the Smug Married vs the Singles. I didn’t create that division, they did.
My heart is a sieve. Shot with tiny holes.
For the Indian man, there’s only one real woman in every relationship. It always goes back to her.
And sometimes,
looking up into the Sun
some veiled sugar
bottling all the pieces in,
quietly seeping
thickly concentrating,
waiting for the Day,
when it can tell off
the hot tempered tadka types,
“I dont need you sputtering folks;
I am Chhunda….I last,
and I bring happiness
round the year …”
@suranga date: Wow! 😀 I really enjoyed it. It reminded me of the early days, when a few friends and I would have these poetry-in-comments conversations.
Ramya !!!
Thats adorable 🙂
How you been?
Guess what.. everytime I came back to your blog over the last 2 years, I have been thinking about sitting with you in barista for a coffee in the morning 🙂 Should do it again sometime?
Next time I am in Mumbai – will try 🙂
Cheers
@Vagabondess: Mailed you.