A Letter To Myself That Will Remind Me To Be A Good Daughter.

Dear Self,

You’ve been so brave this year. Yes, you can applaud yourself. It’s known to be uplifting and pleasing. But have you been loving your loved ones enough? Hmm. That is something to ponder over.

You talk to yourself a LOT. And when the phrase ‘a lot’ is being used, it refers to the fact that you constantly over-think, critique and analyze yourself. It could be in front of the mirror, or while staring at the ceiling of your bedroom or just looking out of the window.

But amid all this, how do you leave out the most important thing to think about?

So think: we always choose to take for granted what is already being given to us. Things such as food and emotions such as love. Like, you feel the swift rush of love in your heart when your Mother says something that is sweet and intrinsic to her maternal nature. But sometimes, you fail to reciprocate and then you end up becoming the worst daughter this Earth will ever host.

You forget what her favorite food dish is.

You forget her shopping list.

You forget what makes her tear up.

And, you forget that apart from being a person who caters to all your needs, she is also a brilliant woman who has desires of her own.

You forget that sometimes when you go shopping, she furtively expects you to come back and surprise her with something she has desperately wanted for a long time. It could be her favorite lipstick that just ran out or the fancy shampoo she has wanted for a long time but is somehow hesitant to buy by herself because she hates Materialism and loathes high maintenance even more.

You forget that your decision to help out in the kitchen should not be born out of obligation but out of compassion.

You forget that rambling on about your life and your miseries sidelines what she is feeling.

You fall. You fall like an ill-prepared solder on the battlefield. And so this letter should help and serve to you as a reminder to not view your mother as your mother ONLY.

View her as this goddess who experienced such visceral pain while giving birth to you that she almost blacked out.

View her as a woman whose mind is filled with drowsy dreams and candid curiosities.

View her as someone with a cerebral mind and a warm heart.

View your mother as a human being and not as a refuge to dump your emotional baggage in.

View her as your everything.

Yours truly and sincerely,

Conscience.

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.”

Exhale of Happiness

  1. When my father closed his eyes,
    he saw dying walls with faded paint.
    He felt the broken faucet under his
    palm. He felt the creaking floors
    beneath his feet.
    When my father opened his eyes,
    he cursed and knew that he would
    see the same. But, a hand found
    its way to his bony shoulder and
    his vision changed.
    His taciturn mouth gasped and his
    eyes bulged. Reality settled deep in
    his veins as he stood near the cleanest
    edifice he had ever seen. He drank
    the refreshing air.
    What stood athwart him was a sculpture
    of architecture. Red oak floors and shiny
    windows, a spacious kitchen and the
    God that he had always believed in.
    My father stepped across the threshold
    and his heart burst out with exultation.
    Never devoid of money but encumbered
    by the grotesque passion of his three
    older brothers, he escaped.

    What did you think of this poem? Let me know in the comments!

Continue reading “Exhale of Happiness”

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.

“Ma, I put lipstick on and I feel so pretty!”. 

Grip the brush with the tightness
that a  warrior exhibits while holding a sword.
Dip it in a powdery box much like a king
does after a war. Except his fingers
caress the crimson Tilak and gently
graze his forehead. You are no less than
a king or a queen, for that matter. Spread
the colored powder across your skin,
with the delicateness of your mother
who watches with fascination as her
fifteen-year-old daughter lives out
her dream to look more beautiful
than she already is in her dressing
room. Now, smudge all the sprouting
blemishes that might have bloomed on
your skin, it will cover not only spots but
also your imperfections. Apply
lipstick now. Brush the tip across
your dry lips with the artistry of
an artist who has ample experience to
recreate Mona Lisa in his basement.
You are ready to face the world.
You wear a mask on the outside and
conceal yourself from within.

A lengthier poem, this one.

I have so much on my plate right now and this is why I come bearing some of the contents that are on my plate.

I have devoted myself to the empowerment of teenage girls. This is why I am going around interviewing young girls around India (virtually, of course) to document their life-changing experiences and interesting discoveries.

Check out the Facebook page and hit like-  Teen JWB

For any writing assignments, comment below or just email me-avantikainghal216@yahoo.in

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does it feel like to move on?

It feels like exactly how
it sounds. You move
three steps ahead of
a force that was once holding
you back. You break
away from shackles that
were rooted around
your wrists and ankles.
You had fallen down
and now you have gotten
up-stronger and with
much more vigor. Your
mind can conjure images
of a healthy future. And
you can actually smile
without feeling the torture.
You can look
back now, it’s safe,
because what you will
see won’t be a mistake.
It will be a lesson of a
lifetime. And you will
remember his face
without fear or tear
streaks. You are not
reading these lines. You
are reading between
them because you know
exactly how it feels to
have moved on.
Yes, you have conquered
the art of moving on
and looking back with
courage and not scorn.

I am talking to you. Yes, YOU. The beautiful woman who fell head over heels over someone who does not give a damn. I want to help you move on. (I rhymed here too. Give me a cookie). If you are feeling down for any reason (related to boys), feel reassured after reading this poem because you can do so much better.

Personally, I never moved on because I have never fallen in love, (But does falling for Nutella count?). And, this was only my imitation of a sanguine woman who feels that she is strong enough to forget.

Thanks.
Good night.
I love you all.
Stay blessed.

Urgent Call for Submissions to a spectacular Literary Magazine and More!

This is an urgent call to all writers, photographers, and artists who wish to see their work published in the elite and gripping magazine called Red Fez.

Click here to submit-https://www.redfez.net/submit

I am the Fiction editor there so just ping me if you have dropped an engaging story to the magazine and I will give it special consideration. Hurry, the new issue comes out in 26 days!!

Now to the poem…It’s about a family member who currently suffers from cancer. I would love your humble wishes and genuine blessings if you could just drop some.

A craving of creamy pasta.
or the succulent juice of mango.
My deceased-self conjures
visions of this past. When I could
walk the earth without a cane, 
when I could eat whatever I wanted
or when I would go to work only
oo come back home to kiss my
wife gently. Now, I decorate the
bed, just like the other showpieces.
I acquire dust at an increasing rate
and I think I might rust. I cough out
misery and suck back more disease.
I rot away, I rot away.

No matter how morose my poem is, you don’t forget to smile and breathe in positivity from anywhere you can. ALSO, COMMENT ON MY POEMS. I need to know what you all people think. If someone actually reads my works, that is…

Reckless Oblivion. 

Greetings, Internet! 

I hope you all are doing well. I am not. Nevertheless, my newest work. Judge it. Like it. Critique it. 

Aunt Betty drinks her 

Black coffee with infinite 

Patience and talks politics. 

We tell her to cut 

Us some slack and yet, 

She blabbers about the 

Republicans until it is 

Incoherent. We groan and 

Instantaneously become 

Ignorant of her words and 

The meanings they present. 

Aunty Betty becomes silent one day.

 She smokes her hooka with an 

uncanny nervousness.

She looks like she wants to 

open her mouth again to spew 

Trump or Christie in our face.

That doesn’t happen. 

She retreats to 

Her room and the next day, 

we find her dead body, 

submerged in silence, 

skepticism. We lie in 

Mystery of her demise. 

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.