Forked By Foes.

Honestly, I don’t know where I got the inspiration to write this poem but something must have sparked it off. I had one of the most disturbing weekends of my life. And, weekends are not supposed to be spent in misery.

Anyway, let me know how you spent your weekend.  Did you party? Did booze do its unspoken magic and you woke up the very next day with a “hangover” worse than the Hollywood movie itself? Let me know!

Also, if you made it this far, why don’t you click on this link and share my story with your friends? I promise you-it’s sweet and brief and it surely is not boring.

Continue reading “Forked By Foes.”

Renovatio. 

Probably the lengthiest poem I have ever written! I hope you like it. Please give me your honest opinions in the comments below! 

P.S The title of the poem is in Latin and translates to rebirth. 

She was made up of words,

They all said. She was meant

To be an author, they proclaimed.

But her mother, Mrs. Smith

Cooked dreams of an early

Marriage and a crawling toddler

For her. Thus, she ran.

 

She ran, leaving a world

Behind only to step into another.

She would paint her own life,

Embellish it with colloquialism,

Flowery words and further,

In her haste, she could only

Collect what her greedy hands

Touched. A toothbrush. A

 

Satchel and not as much a

Glance to the lady who was

Constituted of belligerence and

Hostility for her shaky career.

Betty was the bird emancipated

From a wooden cage. She would

Flap her wings around a strange

 

Place. She would grasp the

Feather and let it sink into

The welcoming ink and let the

Words spill out on an otherwise

Blank page. Oh! The jolts of

The train were like droplets of

Water flicked hurriedly after a

 

Nightmare. She was in a rocking

Carriage with people carrying

The burdens of their own stories after all.

She never batted her eyelashes

At another. Her concentration

Was pinpointed on the leather

Of the ledger she had managed

 

To gather. Her dexterous fingers

Groped the skin of the new diary

And her heart beat faster by

Imagining what would go in it

And which magazines her work would

Travel to. She was the witch and

This diary was her wand. She

Would cast enchanting spells

And thrive from it all.

 

For once, she heaved and a

Bizarre fear settled in the pit

Of her stomach. She knitted

Her brows deep in worry and

Anxiety for the thought of

Starting over. But the word

‘Valiance’ quivered in her mind like

Trees from an arrogant wind

Before a storm and she felt

Bolstered again. Because, she

 

Knew that no matter how harsh

The wind howls at the tress, they

Quiver but they never crumble and fall.

My first ever poetry slam! 

Stop.
Did you hear that?
It was the sound of your fear.
In the form of short breaths and tiny beads of sweat.
You are terrified. And you are foolish.
For you binge-watched Criminal Minds for two hours straight.
In the middle of the night.
And now, your primary fear is a fast approaching attacker.
Hidden behind the curtains or huddled up in your attic.
You contrive plans to beat him. Beat him with all your strength.
Until your fist is tainted blue from the punches
And cheeks ruddy from all the rush
But wait!.
All of this is fictional and inside your head.
For you had bolted every door before
you made it to bed.
But some woman out there screams with a
clay tongue as the ingress to her innocence is shattered by someone.
And here you are, lamenting about gender bias, confined within four walls.
I have faith in challenging.
So challenge the age-old convention of casting women as  Mary Janes with doe eyes in those horror movies and drab shows.
The fear that had blanketed you earlier should be gone by now
You should be able to get up and adorn the cape of bravery
And stand up to these loons while spewing profanities at them articulately.

Hi! Did anyone miss me? No? I figured that out by myself. So yes, I participated in my first EVER poetry slam and this was the poem I performed. Like it? Hate it? Tell me.

Read the interview I took of the organizer here-  http://jaipurwomenblog.org/post-jaipurs-first-poetry-slam-vriddhi-plans-to-have-a-comedy-night-soon/

THAT’S ME.
Bye!

Refulgent Resistance..

Feeding a flame to a candle,
Is a task known to be complicated.
The stem of the candle struggles
And turns away; it stays still, yet
It is trying to say-“No more.”
The flame persists and there it is!
A flash of light-brilliant and bright.
It shimmers in the dark cavern of
My hope and I yearn for the
Candle to not turn away; to not
Struggle and to give way.

The flame is intimidating; it’s fiery red
With an undistinguished blend of
Orange and yellow along the ridges.
And so I lose myself in the radiant
Beauty, forgetting the stem of the
Candle and how it turned away.

Just like my dreams and future.

Can you believe that I’ll be in college this year? I can’t get over that fact. How has life been for you all?

I am watching one of my favourite sitcoms of all time-How I Met Your Mother. Do you like it? Do you hate it? Let me know on my twitter-@avantika97. I post funny excerpts from my already awkward life there.

Avantika.

 

 

 

Media. ✅ Freedom. ✅ Values? My take on Indian Media. 

I am the epitome of selfishness and wanderlust. 

Ask me why and try to act like you are insanely inquisitive about why I used the adjectives above. 

One fine evening (yesterday), my phone vibrated in a mellow manner, indicating that I had a new E-Mail and thank god, I checked it. 

The E-Mail constituted a brilliant opportunity, hidden below many well written articles. 

Yes, the Orange Magazine is recruiting young and budding journalists so that they can cover the Deutsche Welle Global Media Forum (I had some difficulty in writing the whole thing but it was worth it) 

From a very young age, I became desirous of success, confidence and most importantly experience. Therefore, today, I wanted to pen down my thoughts on a very thought provoking topic-‘Media. Freedom. Value.’ It is also the primary topic of the Forum. You get it now! 

And after calming down the excitement that was running through my veins for I had an opportunity to write an essay or a media sample, I started actually thinking-“Hmm. This is a topic worth pondering. I never thought about it before.” 

Here it is. 

I have meticulously read and re-read about how Colonial India imposed censorship on India for a brief period of time for they were scared of the nasty fulminations that would come their way in the form of print or social media if they did not exit the country. 

Thus, it is fair to say that the journey of Indian Media has been a bumpy and adventurous one. So, a goulash of emotions and occurrences run down my mind when I think about the Indian media. The Media where there are overreactions, exaggerations and click-baits. The media that is important for dissemination of information but is also responsible for communal riots and ugly fights. 
The Indian Media is a considerably free and convenient realm of social interaction and information exchange. However, sometimes, this realm becomes so devoid of the necessary human values that it becomes grotesque and irksome. 

I like to watch A LOT OF YouTube videos (don’t tell Mom!) and I often catch sight of comments under every video that I see and what I see there could be equivalent to a man-made gutter reeking of jealousy, discontent and inferiority complex. People often diss the YouTubers by using abhorring language and that is exactly the moment when they lose their moral values. 
Positivity has been a cryptic concept that has been lacking from my life and I like to inculcate positive feelings within my soul  but these comments of faceless people sitting behind computers with nothing but dangerous conjectures are what kill my positive vibe. 

Any kind of media has freedom of speech and communication but in that lengthy process, people sometimes let go of their moral values like kindness, compassion and well…common sense. 

Tell me what you think and who knows? We might just have a heated debate in the comments. 
Hypocrites everywhere. Gosh. 

I am kidding. 

Regards, 
Avantika. 

When We Are One. 

The moon’s soft rays 
Kiss the moor ground 
With the delicacy of an 
Innocent maiden of 
Old times. The gentle 
Light caresses my skin 
With a mellow touch. 
I look up to the sky, 
Tainted with stars which 
I am inclined to touch. 
They are silver dots of 
Wonder and they 
Fascinate me. 
The trees around me 
Are silent and still, 
Embracing the moon 
And its pulchritude like 
I do and in that moment, 
The line between 
Human and Nature blur. 
The line is now indistinguishable,
it’s almost invisible. 
We are one. The trees and 
I. There’s no destruction. 
There’s only peace. And tranquility. 

Hi WordPress! How much i missed you.
Now that my exams are over, i can post without  worrying about not finishing my course (believe me, i came very close to that). How have you all been? How has 2016 been for you? I have big dreams for this blog. Give me suggestions and wise words for the improvement of this blog if you want. I am thinking of collaborating with a lot of bloggers this year. Tell me if you are interested. 

(I know, no one will show up. There’s no harm in trying) 

I hope you have a good day, folks. 🙂 

Avantika. 

New Year Resolutions. You’ll end up forgetting yours in no time! 

Strangely, I am not feeling the ‘New Year’ buzz even though I am encumbered by loud music, over enthusiastic cheers and refulgent grins. 

It might take some time to sink in that it will be 2016 in a matter of minutes. 

I won’t be in school anymore. 

A normally functioning human being who will miss seeing their friends on a daily basis will be sordid at this fact. I am not! I am hardly rueful. In fact, I am glad I won’t have to put up with the charade to like school because I just cannot. 

Of course, 2015 has been VERY eventful. 

All with my blog becoming a little more active, with 259 family members attached to it. You all are family! 

I got nominated for the Lovely blog award. Could anything be more awesome? 

People make resolutions for new year and brighter tomorrows all the time. However, I am not in the mood. I am not in a mood to list things I want to change in myself next year. Can I be myself without having to think about alterations in my thought processes and mannerisms? 

The answer is very much YES. 

Why change? When your new year resolution will be just like that belittled sweater you bought at a Black Friday Sale? 

The truth is, you will forget what your new year resolution was before the push messages for 2016 even meet their sad end. 

That’s right, hit ‘delete’ right away, folks. 

I am not saying that making resolutions is unhealthy or foolish. It’s just that, for once, let nature take its force and do what it wants with you. Let the chips fall where they may? 

Why try to walk on coal when you cannot? Why break promises you cannot even keep? 

Thus, let’s be the same people we were in 2015 and let’s be ourselves. Let’s, however, do something simple. Let’s embrace positive thoughts and a prosperous future with arms spread wide. Yes, wider. Wide emough? I think so. 

Happy New Year, Family. 

You do you. 

Never change for anyone or anything. 

It’s 12:00 already? 

*flurry of push messages* 

Ah. 

The Christmas buzz.

In the lonesome streets
At night and under the
Bright moon’s light, I
Wander with a heavy
Heart and a hindsight
Of the horrible events
Of tonight. My jacket
Is causally slung over
My shoulder and the
Engagement ring sits
Like a wounded dog
In it’s case, curled in a
Ball. My eyes water
At the sight of your
Angry and flushed face
And how you scraped
The chair along the
Floor angrily as you
Gaped. It was unexpected.

It was plaintive. Whatever it
Was, it was evident that
You were not ready.
And neither I am, to be
With a girl who only
Longs for Tiffany’s and
Not some local jeweller.
A cup of hot chocolate
Awaits my cosy residence.

The lambent
Lights of my Christmas
Tree will sing silently in

my presence and
Meanwhile, I will devise
Strategies to move on
From you and refresh
My existence.

Merry Christmas to everyone on WordPress. This year is coming to an end and that makes me want to tear up. It was fabulous. I hope this year brought you a lot of happiness too.

I wrote this poem for those who feel that they have a right to be sad on Christmas. You don’t! Whatever horrible situation has befallen you will mitigate and become better. Be grateful for whatever you have. Share smiles and radiance with your loved ones. Be spirited!

With all the love I can muster for you all, Avantika!

Delusions And Deafeats.

You are like the trapped
Bee who makes the irk 
Some buzzing sound 
When it is captured in a 
Glass jar. You keep taking
rounds until your insignificant
wings just can’t bear to
function and you settle at the 
Bottom with an abrupt 
And unpredictable 
Quietness. You have 
Given up, silly human. 
You fail to see that the 
rim of the metal jar gives 
Way to the tiniest of 
Spaces. It’s wide enough 
For you to get out. Yet, 
There you are, sitting 
And sighing, waiting for 
Miracles to happen and 
Ignoring all the opened 
Doors and the small 
Space on the rim of the jar. 

The Fiery Fight.

The cold pavement against
her cheek does nothing to calm
Her hot, boiling blood.

The rags that cover her
Sinuous body do nothing
To cover up skin and the
Humiliation she suffers.

The hands that only wrap
Around rancid items of
food do nothing to stop her
longing for lavish delicacies.

She lived the life of a
Beggar with equanimity
Until something snapped
Inside of her.

Now, her anger will be her strength.
Her frustration will be her driving force.
She will turn her future into a comfortable, liveable one.

She’ll fight. She son’t run.