love

Youtube Channel.

Poetry

HeyLo,

I might or might not have fallen into the trap of making content on YouTube too! This is both exciting and nerve wrecking at the same time.

I’ve always wanted to push my words to the visual medium for a long time now, but my laziness got in the way. But few days back, I was questioning myself “What day is the right day to start something new?”, and the part of my brain which is sensible replied, “Today.”. 

So here I am, pushing out all the possibilities of procrastination and self-doubt to share with you guys, my first ever YouTube video.

Do support me if you liked the content! My YouTube channel will be an extension to my blog. So you guys (who have been following me in here) will know what sort of videos you can expect! Please be sure to subscribe and share this video (no compulsion). I promise a great ride from here on!

Take care

From the not so-

purr

just the little things.

Poetry

 

“What is the matter?”,

 

“Oh. Just the little things,

that pull me down for a second,

and releases me back with vulnerable skin.

Just the little things,

that make the world seem bigger and wilder,

than the one I was born in.

Just the little things, 

that makes my tears seem fake,

for they make their appearance a little more than often.

Just the little things,

that matter to me.”

 

“Nothing.”

Take Care,

From the not so-

purr

chennai that was madras

Inspiration, Poetry

when i was 5,
i met this girl for the first time.
school taught me home is made out of brick and cement,
but this girl told me
home is made out of traffic and “take diversions”.

every time i looked out of the window,
i could see her beauty in the form of lighthouses and midnight sundals.
every time my tongue ran dry,
i could see her beauty in the form of idlies and sambhars.

time flew and i loved her more and more and more.

when i was 10,
i knew this girl was mine.
society taught me joy is made out of gifts and roses,
but this girl told me
joy is made out of superstars and super kings.

every time i walked any other parallel street,
i could see her beauty in the form of chaos and coffees.
every time i packed my snacks and left out for a drive,
i could see her beauty in the form of ecr and mgm.

time flew and i loved her more and more and more.

when i was 15 she played me like her politics,
when i was 16 she was flooded and so was i,
when i was 17 she was a cyclone and i, her mother.

every time somebody dragged her,
i could see her beauty in the youth and protests.
every time somebody stabbed her,
i could see her beauty in blood and scars,
every time i look at Chennai that was Madras,
i can see my world.

time is flying, i know, we know, and we will keep loving her more and more and more.

My winning entry for the Slam Poetry Contest held by the U.S. Consulate General in association with Prakrit Foundation.

 

The doorway to more such victories!

Take care

From the not so-

purr

unhappy artists.

Ficiton&Poem, Inspiration, Poetry

to be an artist is to be unhappy.

a popular formula that runs in letter and paint,
dripping in intervals like tear and rain.
a little boy once asked me,
“what does it take to make something lasting”,
and i told him,
“broken emotions.”

it’s all heart and art,
until someone stops feeling.
we are the artists who create ourselves.
we create ourselves with every stroke of brushes,
we create ourselves with every click of keys,
we create ourselves with every tap of feet.

you’ll find us hiding in google searches,
“quotes for breakup”,
“quotes for sadness”,
“quotes for life”.
and sometimes,
“quotes for love”.

the world was made by a creator
and perfected by artists.
we are the lonely,
comforting the lonely.
melancholy is our fuel,
and we aren’t ashamed of it.

to be an artist is to be unhappy.

Take care

From the not so-

purr