Days Like These

On days when breathing is painful
When music on full cannot pull
my pitiful thoughts spinning in whirlpools
to a silent blissful cool;

On days when I can’t but hate
the trade offs in life I made
family for freedom, freedom for money,
money for travel, travel for stability;

On days I roam pretending I’ve grown
all worries in a messy bag thrown
in a corner of my mind I actively ignore
so I can feign normalcy against all truth known;

On days when I can’t love the sky,
whether the Sun shines or clouds float by
Even as it tries horizon to horizon spread so wide,
to comfort the eyes heedless of time;

On days I spin stories of distant glories
which color my life like a jar of candies
I keep held in my hand as the day dies
feeding on the little nuggets to help me survive;

On days I count focusing  my eyes
On my hand as I flip fingers to get to five
reasons that hold my life
hostage to none but the route I decide;

On days I feel how unfair
it is to have no one to blame
my hands fumble finding nothing to claim
except the helplessness that remains;

On days like these I find my truce
in saying life’s playing a fucked up tune
and when it switches to the next track
it better be a song after my own heart.

 

Candy House

Candy House

I make myself a candy house everyday,
with new flavours – raspberry,
bubblegum, orange, guava, cherry;
with new tweaks – a cotton candy bed
or a swirling table with a chocolate seat at the head.

And everyday, the candy house protects
the brilliant colours and savory odours,
from the blackness of innumerous insects
that leave the house I carefully crafted to moulder
into hollowed nothings and ugly cuttings.

In my city I roam apprehensive
jealous of people living in wooden houses
that boast of splendid appearances,
and stay the same stable homes
through passing days and years gone.

And they think of my candy house
as an exquisite work of art,
ignorant of the pests that plough it to bits
or of the desperation that keeps building it up.
Again. Everyday. So I can keep up
the sweet appearances.

Candy House

 

More Poems

An expression in ink

You tell me I live in a society.  And societies have rules. Undocumented. Unsaid. Unanimous. Untampered. Unquestionable. I tell you I have a life. Mine. And while I know you are right. I also know that I’m not wrong.

When I make choices,  I understand all the directions the repercussions might burst into.  I may underestimate the magnitude,  but I get the general direction. But the choice in itself is valueless to me. I accept the consequences as a payment for the freedom of making it. But your comments and your slights are not to be wrapped in the same packing. When I travel to a new place,  I understand that I may be lost.  When I stand on the stage,  I confront the risk of drawing a blank.  And when I get a tattoo,  I know it’s permanent.

You don’t have to spell it out to me. I know how to read. Or listen. Or think. Or choose. Everything. The design. The place. The size.

You don’t have to protest about missing your vote on my pre-tattoo design deciding panel. I don’t need it. Your permission. Or approval. Or pat on the back. It’s still healing and I’d rather not get it infected.

It might surprise you to know that it wasn’t an impulsive decision. I did think long about it. But even if it was,  I don’t get why I need to tell you about it. If I have to maintain a journal of my choices,  I’d rather it be my body than the constricted puzzles in your brain.

I don’t need you to make me look for questions in my answers, when you really don’t care about the why or the what or the how. Because you’re too busy making the world fit into your own fancy mold to understand it.

Every statement that I make, does not need your approval stamp. And you can rant about your views in words that won’t sting more than an inked needle. And my mind will pay you no heed. Because opinions are like seashells.  I’ll choose the ones I like and leave the rest to the waves.

Dedicated to all who made me think yet again about something I’d already been pondering over for years – getting a tattoo. And dedicated to all those who are still letting others steer your life when you’re one hell of a driver yourself.

In my mind 

In my mind, I have so much to speak
Words like a waterfall gushing out of a creak.
They splash across my mind before I sleep
but never when you stand in front of me.

I am not very talkative to begin with.
The cogwheels in my brain don’t move to many a topic,
maybe just books, art, anime, music.
And to you they seem as unreal as a witch’s tonic.

So when you come stand next to me all expectant,
I try my best but stay as vain as a pendant
wishing to defy the gravity to which it’s nature tends
even as the clasp holding my string of thoughts fragments.

‘Coz in my mind I’ve already said a million words
in makeshift worlds of which you’ve never heard
that convey most of what whirls in my head
even as in the real world I tactfully keep the silence fed.

So you think of me as uncomfortably quiet
While I think you to be suitably notified.
But if you could only read thoughts, we might have a tryst
Heedless of the words that stay,  just in my mind.

 

More Poems

Comikist – My comic pick list

I have just recently been washed up on the shores of the gigantic sea of graphic novels. I like to think that I’m not a complete novice, because I am somewhat familiar with the world of manga. But the fact that I’m fairly new to graphic novels, is still just that – a fact. I’ve been picking up and sampling a number of comics these days, and here’s my opinion on some of the Marvel ones.

bp-coverBlack Panther #1 – #8: Ta-Nahesi Coates, Brian Stelfreeze, Laura Martin

Black Panther has been one of my favorite avengers ever since I read Civil War. He has that mysterious aura around him (which has nothing to do with how he always wears black) and his personality, which jjust exudes class. My interest in him is also somewhat influenced by Storm being his love interest and their wedding scene from Civil War which was just breathtaking.

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Coates however divulges into the world of Wakanda with utter submission. He never fails to bring in subtle aspects of the culture which I can only partially appreciate as I’m not as acquainted with African culture as I would like to be. He doesn’t give up the questioning yourself characteristic trait of a superhero, though it is more subdued (maybe because Wakanda is so obviously in chaos and everyone is doubting T’Challa anyway).

What bought me over to Coates’ side is the constant discourse on monarchy and politics which definitely gives you something to chew on.

Without doubt, these discussions are the treasure trove of the black panther comics. Brian Stelfreeze does a wonderful job with the art. I love the simplicity of T’challa’s costume, the masks that capture the rebelling women and how the colours flow from Wakanda to the dream world to where the rebels are hiding.

This comic has the potential to be a gem in Marvel’s crown of comics with its thoughtful discussions and beautiful art.

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Mosaic #1 & #2: Geoffrey Thorne, Khary Randolph, Emilio Lopez

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Remember how I was talking about the self-doubting superhero in Black Panther, Thorne takes all that self-doubt into his hands, wraps it in a fabric of moral obligations, and throws it out of the court of Mosaic.

An acclaimed and repulsively overconfident basketball star, Morris, who has everything in his life – skills, fame, a loving girlfriend, a father as constant support – suddenly has everything brutally taken away from him leaving behind a superpower that feels more like a curse. The only way for Morris to survive is by possessing (or rather becoming) other people and living through them.

The simplicity of the art in the comic contrasts with how intricate Morris’s powers are. Since the comic is in the starting stage, the story is still not developed enough to form a definitive opinion.

One thing I’m really looking forward to is how Morris grows into his superpowers and his view on being a superhero, because he is definitely not one right now.

I also like the name ‘Mosaic’ as a complement to Morris’s powers. Even if the people he’s lived in may forget what happened to them, Morris does not. And some part of them remains in him and will definitely affect his personality. I really like the lettering in the books, done by Joe Sabino, especially when Morris has a personality breakdown during body snatching.

As Mosaic is still developing, I will just be another reader on the sidelines. For now, I can say that it is definitely grippy.

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Groot #1-#5: Jeff Loveness, Brian Kesinger

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This is my first comic on anything related to the Guardians. I’m surprised myself that it took me this long seeing how much I loved the movie. But somehow, Guardians without the music did not really appeal to me that much. However, I feel like I didn’t understand enough of Groot’s personality in the movies except to recognize him as an overly friendly tree who’ll go to any lengths for his friends.

I wasn’t a fan of the art style chosen in the comic. The lining was too harsh even though the expressions were interesting. I didn’t get the dig at Superman with the Kor/Al scene either. What I did like about the comic was how Groot’s character was center stage. You could see the effect he had on people around him, even with his limited three-word vocabulary. The little adventure with silver surfer was fun too.

I wouldn’t call Groot a favorite, though it is good enough for when I’m missing the duo. I did have doubts about the series since it stars a character that can hardly speak. But I soon realized that Groot’s personality needed no more words. I may still grow into the comic. 

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The Mighty Thor #1 – #7: Jason Aaron, Russell Dauterman, Matt Wilson

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The new Thor has been raging strong in The Mighty Thor continuing from where it left off in Thor. The war of the realms that was hinted at since the beginning is finally gaining speed as more realms are thrown into turmoil. I have been a fan of Aaron’s work ever since the first Thor came out. Feminism aside, what drew me into the story was that the new lady Thor is just so… badass. And when the identity was finally revealed at the end, it was a perfect win.

If you’re into women superheroes or even if you would like to give it a start, this is just the book. If not that, the Thor universe in itself is pretty sticky. There is a lot happening in this series with rainbow bridges, light elves, crazy CEOs, Loki being Loki, the All-Father being incredibly stubborn, Malekith being enchantingly evil, and Thor flying around wielding Mjolnir. 

I also forayed into The Unworthy Thor just so I can know what was happening with Odinson all the while that the lady Thor was stealing all the glory. All because the new  comics got me so into the world of Asgard.

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That is all on my mind from the Marvel side of the universe.

So what have you been reading lately?

‘Tis the season!

Stockings hanging beside a fireplace towards the right with a christmas tree on the left.

Each morning on the 25th, the first thing I do is look under my pillow. And each morning on the 25th, for as long as I can remember, I without doubt find something or the other there – a box of chocolates, a little toy, a book. So it has become a habit of sorts. These days, my younger sisters wake me up before I can look myself with the standard – ‘What did Santa get for you this time?’. Before I can tell them, they rattle off with their own list of under the pillow goodies. It seems this time our Santa did a little upgrade. He finally found the socks we’d hung near the bedpost so there was less danger of us waking up while he sneakily tried to stuff gifts under our pillows. Maybe this Christmas, we can pat ourselves on the back for becoming more considerate.

I remember having a fight with my friends when I was in the fifth grade. All because they had the gall to suggest that Santa wasn’t real. With narrowed eyes and puffed up cheeks, I declared, ‘Maybe you are just not good children’, and stomped away. Because I believed in Santa. Despite all my rationality. I had years worth of gifts to prove it. Every 25th without fail. And even as Christmas creeps near this year, I see my younger sisters writing a letter to Santa and asking their dad to post it, with all the surety that it will be read that only children can have. And I wonder if they fight with their friends about Santa’s existence or not. And if they reply in the same pompous tone as I did or not.

It took me, after all, quite a long time to realize that there is no such thing as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ kids, there are just some which are incredibly lucky.

And in some ways more than the others, I have been quite so. Rather than being bad children, maybe my friends just did not have any person in their house who believed in Christmas or wanted their children to. It is not our festival anyway. We already have enough with Diwali and Holi and Dussehra and Janmashthmi.

But festivals are fun. And carols jolly. And as I shop with my Aunt reading off from a list of gifts that her husband handed her which she needs to get before 24th eve, I still find one box of chocolates stuffed beneath my pillow when I wake up on the 25th.

PS. Talking about Christmas music, I’ve been listening to this for about 3 years now.