Inspired by the Fear of Being Average

Why be average when you can be a prodigy, an extraordinare, a virtuoso? This argument seems very sensible on face value and the temptation to buy it doesn’t just come from cognitive fallacies but also the ongoing work culture and socio- cultural corpus. Every cog of the economy makes money off of being ‘outstanding’ or having the ability to make you stand out- think of coaching institutions or consulting giants, it boils down to the same premise.

‘Tis the Szn: Navigating Anxiety and Depressing Feelings during the Holidays

If it seems like everybody came out of 2024 wearing tiaras and sashes while the only thing which keeps you from being empty handed is a string of disappointments, you are still heard and seen. If it feels as if the best part of the year is its coming to an end, your feelings are still valid.

Officially 18

It is daunting to be eighteen,
To be an “adult” on legal papers
When you have the meandering mind
Of a teenager;
To carry the unrelenting boulder
Of people’s expectations on your
Bruised and bent shoulders,
When you can just shrug at best
On being asked about future plans.

She

There is an unsettling thunder in her gait,
An outright mockery in her smirk;
Her half-closed eyes speak of a defiance
That cannot be defeated.
She pinches pain in those
Tight-lipped smiles of hers,
And burns all hate in her retinas.

What weapons could ever destroy her?
She is the war herself.
Armed with a silent endurance,
Clutched close to her bosom.

Breathe

And when I feel stuck in the doldrums of life,
When nothing seems to move anymore,
When I slip down the dark abyss of nothingness,
And my eyes simply don’t wish to search for the light anymore,
I take a breath.
I breathe in the air
That is moist with the tears of poets,
Ringing with the pain of musicians,
Whispering in my ears, the beautiful stories of many unpublished writers,

Live

Live for the flowers you haven’t seen in full bloom,
For the constellations you aren’t friends with,
For the dance of the Northern Lights on the skyline you haven’t been audience to.
Live for the cats you haven’t cuddled with,
For the dogs whose noses who are yet to boop,
For the birds you haven’t chortled along with.

Loving You

This and that are things,
And you are not.
You are the reason, the protagonist, the very center of this saga.
It’s for the Moon to wax and wane,
For the tides to rise and fall,
For you to love yourself
Even when it gets hard,
Even when it is blue.

Bloom /Blogmas ’21

A rivulet of sweat rolls down your forehead, threatening to invade the right eye.
You huff and shut your eyelids tight, wiping it off with the back of your left hand and resume work.
Oh, these tiresome days!
Unending hours of sweltering in the enraged sunlight, bruised red and burnt brown from its fire piercing your skin.
You feel like you’d melt under the heat of the predicament, or perhaps, vapourise into thin air.
But, even with the looming possibility of a blackout, ragged breathing and shaking limbs, you stand there persistently.

Alive Again: Death & Grief

When did the Sun stop burning in all its glory,
Painting the distant skies in warm hues,
Illuminating our vast lands,
Nourishing our flora and fauna,
Just in the fear of the imminent dusk?

When did the rivers stand stagnant?
They painstakingly made their way through cataracts and bends,
Trailing down hills and valleys,
Embracing the green plains and the arid sand,
Resilient as they slowly evaporate into thin air, nearing their end.

Nonetheless

You’ve been broken down to pieces,
And pulled yourself together nonetheless.
Your mind has reeled at the amount of things to be dealt with,
And gotten stuff done nonetheless.
You’ve been overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to breathe,
And inhaled hope nonetheless.
You’ve feared everybody else’s verdict,
And put yourself first nonetheless.
You’ve struggled to even wake up some days,
And made it through those days nonetheless.