Life.

This is most probably the darkest poem I’ve ever written.

Hollow hearts,

Hollow heads,

Hollowed brains,

Filled with the death.

Devoid of love,

Devoid of thought,

Devoid of actions,

They turn to rot.

Empty stomachs,

Living on air,

As sad as it gets,

It’s only our minds that have to be fed

Dying while living,

Living while dead,

This is life baby,

A few days and we’re dead.

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A confined girl in a free world.

She was born in a country,

Where the people were free.

She had the choice to blossom,

And breathe in the fresh breeze.

Her parents were liberal,

The wanted what she wanted.

To experience nature, culture and traditions

Of the lands around she.

But then if she did step out,

To see what she wanted.

A million stares was she the subject of,

In the bus, in the car, in the train, even on the roads!

Heckling became a part of her life,

And pepper spray her bae.

It wasn’t what she wore, be it a kurta or jeans,

The stares and looks were part of her daily routine.

 

In the metro, in the bus,

It was like a daily massage,

A massage she did not enjoy,

But she had to bear.

Her parents were worried,

Their child had to be safe.

Safe from the dangerous world,

Of what is called society.

People blamed it on her,

It was her fault.

Why be a women and give,

Impressions to all.

Why step out when not needed,

Why go out with boys,

That’s evil.

You brought it on yourself,Living in this place.

Throw away your mobile phone!,

It causes rape.

 

In a society were girls are killed right before they are born,

In a society were girls are judged before they can stand tall.

In a society were girls are judged on what they wear,

In a society were its her fault, she shouldn’t have been born

Will we see equality at all?

On weddings.

So my mother, (sorta like Kris Jenner but way way smarter) made this statement yesterday while we were at a wedding that in a wedding or a funeral you mustn’t hold a personal grudge against anyone (including the dude who spilt dal makhni on your dress).

I’ve always been a fan of weddings, Good food, you get to wear Indian stuff you barely get to wear anywhere else, hot guys (may the odds ever be in your favor), pretty decorations and stuff, and most importantly (for me at least) the emotions, the relations and the feelings.

In the movie 27 dresses there is this certain thing on how the lead female always likes to look at the poor groom while the pretty bride make her entry. I being me decided to try it out, and when the bride made her entry while doing the walk of red lehengas and phoolon ka chadhar to that song which has been stuck in my head for the past 20 minutes the dudes face glowed like a million light bulbs (or maybe it was just the lightning) and that even though there were 300 people out there 3% of them beside him and his neck must have been hurting cause he had been wearing this money garland. Like if it were me in his shoes (which were soon to e stolen) I’d roll up my sleeves, call it a day and start watching Kanan Gill. FUN!!

Apart from the bride and groom (OBVIOUSLY!) a wedding has many other factors, most importantly clothes, or basically overly embezzled pieces of taffeta and net! And let me assure you, going underdressed for a wedding (I’m talking less sequins on your skirt) is worse than getting less marks than bobby ka beta, or having a less expensive car than your neighbor, or being dark skinned. (in my country darkness is a dark dark sin, and I’m guilty). Basically, you go to a wedding to dress up. Not dress up for a wedding, and once you’ve dolled up you compare. Compare yourself with other people. Compare your cut colour and shape, compare your length (or lack therefore) and compare how many sequins are there in one square centimeter of fabric.

One of my most favorite aspects was that families were together. There was this little photo session going on with kids and their nana-nani’s , dada-dadi’s and the millions of relatives from around the world. And it was cute. It made me miss my family. It make me take a selfie with my mother. It doused me in love.

And that the general feel in the air was of love, of relationships and of family and of good food.

I like weddings. You can invite me for yours.

Lullaby for a myna

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A pretty smile, Chinki eyes,

Beautiful hair and a brain better than me.

A shoulder to sleep on,

Rebellious she may be.

But with a captain badge to bare,

May I say that’s pure irony.

 

The tiniest of the lot and the most mature,

Change is her, responsibility she is.

Perfectly poised, with good clothes to wear,

Talkative as a myna.

I can see your halo, pretty one,

Shining in the sun.

 

A heart of platinum,

Rare yet precious.

I can swear all heads turn,

Because she is beauty and brains mixed into one.

Little chunk of perfection,

Smart is she.

And she goes admiring lesser mortals,

Humble be she.

 

One of the four,

She stands out.

Not for her beauty, nor her brains, or her grace,

More like because that is what,

Everyone works for.

Little ann ban,

Don’t you worry bae

I’ll be there for you.

Salad Days

Sometimes I stay up till three in the night and have a multitude of thoughts in my mind. One of them very predominantly is, what I am going to do with my life. I’m in class 11th, I’m 16 years old. In a year will be writing the one thing that will most probably define, decide and describe what I am going to do with my life. It’s cold and I have psychology work to complete. (there that is all that is going on in my head)

My biggest worry now is whether I’ll be able to do without a hoodie for dinner and my responsibility is to drink my milk. I live a good life, have good friends, get to do what I like. I’m better off than most kids my age. I need to commit less hours to studies than certain kids. I don’t need to work. I’m a pampered kid. I could say a million things about my current scenario and to think  of it my whole life has been a salad day filled with a few wilted greens.

I live the lucky life.

These are my salad days.

Forever confused,

Sitara

Salad Days

Lights, Phone Camera and Diwali!

Of bright colors and bright lights,
When the streets come to life.
Every balcony a different color.
A different style, a different decor.

This is the festival of light, of fire crackers and good mithai.
Of happy people and pretty skies.
Dotted with fireworks of every kind.
In the end it isn’t a festival, it’s a state of mind.

(I’m in no ways a professional, these photos were taken from my phone camera. no hate please 🙂 )

Hi Kids!

*sneaks in slowly* you may remember me, you may not but hi!

So my exams got over, the net got fixed but what remained was the mind block. A sad serious amount of it, so much that I could write, but write what anyone could write. Nothing that I personally felt deserved a blog post. Nothing I felt was good. I’ve seen people post daily, even hourly but their writing seemed forced, that spark was missing.

And what has happened to me in these few days? (Let’s call it few please *puppy dog face*)

Ummm….

  1. Tests
  2. General teenage life
  3. This school trip
  4. General teenage life
  5. This MUN where I represented Slovakia
  6. General teenage life
  7. Diwali
  8. General teenage life
  9. This Harry Potter MUN where I was Ginny Weasly
  10. More teenage life
  11. Bleh

And soon, there may a serious change in my life (nope not romantic, though I wish (joke!)) and I’m planning to incorporate that in my blogging life, though let’s see how.

and if all goes well I’ll post some photo entries soon 🙂 say tuned!

Sitara

Leaving you with picture to show how pretty the rock I live under is