“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

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Time Oxford brought out the poet in me.

Incredibly short verses of poetry written by me while doing a short summer course of Creative Writing at Oxford University. It sounds fancy, I know. You can also catch all the highlights of my expedition on Jaipur Women Blog. The blog name will be ‘Velvet Eyes’. 

  1. Of an arm
    Coyly placed on my
    Shoulder and a smile
    Plastering his face,
    He breezed away into
    The arms of another
    After treading on my already broken heart.

2. Teardrops fell
Slowly but surely as the parents distanced
Themselves from their only offspring and
Ventured off to a world of modernisation
And Ignorance alone together.

3. The sun is my continual nemesis
And it destroys me in more ways than one.
Silent questions are raised eternally and
Will not die down until I stop concealing
Myself from my own bright demons.

4. There are pictures sketched on the
Concrete that the law abiders despise. They
Condemn them because the depth of the paint will
Never rest comfortably in their eyes, like it does in mine.

5. Shaky hands
And a sweaty forehead, a heartbeat faster
Than a bullet train’s speed is all that takes me
To saunter over to the podium and spill
Meaningful words that reach every ear, move
Every heart and propel them forward in their life.

Have a great day and don’t forget to smile, Netizens!

Avantika.

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!

Lies That Last for a Lifetime.

The after taste of a lie is
Like that accidental gulp of blood
Inside your mouth. The eccentric
Taste of copper and salt could
Never rival that of a lie. The
Wrongful sentences are plastered
Upon your teeth and your tongue
Procures syllables of deceit. You
Even try trapping your tongue between
Your teeth to stop lying. But old
Habits die hard and slow. You have
Lied now and gulped that pint of
Blood. The after taste is unpleasant.
Disgusting, even. And now you don’t
Know whether to feel guilty or happy
for lying and getting away with it.

Wassup, yo? A little counrty-ish greeting never hurt anyone, right? How have you all been? Be in good spirits, dear WordPress Family for I bring to you a very exciting news.

If you are scrolling through WordPress, there is a huge chance that you are looking for reading material to soothe your mind and nerves. Look no further. We bring to you a phenomenal novel sale that will allow you to browse through thousands of novels at very cheap prices. (It’s a family business, I take pride in it :))

Here is the link-

https://www.facebook.com/events/995211427221378/?ref=1&action_history=%5B%7B%22surface%22%3A%22permalink%22%2C%22mechanism%22%3A%22surface%22%2C%22extra_data%22%3A%5B%5D%7D%5D

Whoa, that’s one lengthy link.And, in case you feel the need to buy a novel at excessively cheap prices-think, it could either be ‘In the Skin of a Jihadist’ or ‘A Thousand Splendid Sons’, you can also contact me here-avantikasinghal216@yahoo.in

Just drop in a friendly email and send in your queries. They say I am a nice person.

Bye, for now!

 

 

 

 

‘Flushed’ and a friend’s graphic design blog! 

Before you start skimming through the poem, I’d like you to do me a small favor.

This is a dear friend’s graphic designing blog and I would be grateful if you would give it a look-

https://www.instagram.com/thechronologicallyvivid/

Okay, you can go ahead and read the poem now, if you are not bored out of your mind already, that is.

My aversion to dating started when

a boy of eighteen looked at me funny.

I melted under his gaze and had no

idea of what to do. The red that I did not

know about until that moment rushed to

my cheeks and my words were jumbled

when I spoke. I spoke of Albert Einstein,

I spoke of the misery in Syria and while I

did so, his eyes were otherwise occupied.

His eyes were pools of lust as they zeroed

in on and below my collarbone and neck. 

I was on my feet before I knew and 

penned down this poem before anyone 

could know of my “embarrassment”.

The scaly fingertip. 

The tips of my fingertips have been
Used until they have been overused.
The papers I behold with my fingers all
Day have led to the disappearance of
My identity, in a way. My uniqueness has diminished to a point where it is no longer unique. I trace the tips in
a rhythmic fashion until this motion tires me out and my mind wanders to arbitrary trips to the grocery store to buy eggs and milk. As my eyes close on their own accord, I dream of insane things.

Note to readers-This poem is primarily based on the scientific fact that your fingerprints start fading as you age and faster when you handle lots of paper or lime.

Your welcome. I know you like it when i tell you facts out of the blue.

I hope you have a great day. Spread smiles!

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.