#2 The story of a thorn

Every thorn has a story,
That no one wants to hear.
But he was more than eager,
To get even a glimpse of it.

He was willing to prick,
His finger over and over again.
He would bleed for her,
Till death came by her hands.

She was by no means,
Moved initially.
But his constant fight,
Brought something to life.

She started seeing things,
She had forgotten long ago.
The fragrance of roses,
Began to feel like home.

But she was still captive,
In a dungeon of guilt.
And he stayed adamant,
To never let her leave.

With time,
She forgave her crimes.
For she saw no hope,
In letting go of the rope.

He dragged her above,
From beneath the ground.
With the first ray of sunshine,
She was born anew.

Though she was still a thorn,
Prickly and headstrong.
For all the good reasons,
She couldn’t be a tender rose.

She found love,
Despite what she had become.
She had a come a long way,
From being held down ‘gainst her wishes.



#1 The making of a thorn

She was fragile enough,
To let her petals bleed.
A mindless little rose,
In a desert of thirsty travellers.

They stripped her of her color,
Shattered her roots to the core.
Myriad of travellers came by,
But none stayed by her side.

Her tenderness dissolved in thin air,
As her leaves began falling.
In place of a vibrant rose,
Life birthed a merciless thorn.

Not a stranger went by,
Who could deny her charms.
Nor could they resist the pain,
She’d inflict upon them.

Every man pricked his finger,
There was no mere escape.
The sight of blood trickling,
Had her immensely satisfied.



If feelings did not exist,
Would hearts have any meaning?
If there wasn’t pain to resist,
Would our hearts still be beating?

If nothing ever changed,
Would life make much sense?
If souls never had an end,
Would we ever repent?

If bodies never died,
Would we live forever?
If mere existence thrived,
Would anyone be remembered?

If there were only happy times,
Would we really care?
If there were no lies,
Would life even seem fair?



As my secrets grew,
They weighed me down.
There were not even few,
Who saw me drown.

My only outlet came,
Through a paper and pen.
Till poems became,
The secrets I tell.

Veiled with metaphors,
I can cry my heart out.
The feelings I had in store,
Now have a voice so loud.


The story behind my hair.

People always wonder what makes me do crazy stuff to my hair. From extreme color to extreme haircuts, I’ve probably done it all.

The last time I remember having really long hair reaching my waist was back when I was 11. A year later I got a really short, above shoulder length layered haircut. Till I was 13 I experimented simple layered haircuts and I would get them trimmed every time they reached my shoulder.

Then I gave angled bob a go. It was medium in length. The first time I got it the hair stylist sort of ruined it because her hands were shaking the whole time she gave me the haircut. It was just so weird so I had to get it cut again. It turned out Okay-ish I think. My hair grows really fast so soon enough I had to tie them up in a pony tail.

I first colored my hair when I was 14. It was light brown. Then next year I went for golden blonde though initially I had intended for a more lighter shade of blonde. I also got rid of my pony tail and was left with really short layered haircut again.

Things got a little interesting by the time I was 16. Well, once again I had a pony tail but this time I didn’t cut my hair the whole year. I let them grow till they were an inch below my shoulders. I also colored them ash blonde, something I had been wanting to do for a long time.

As soon as I turned 17 I decided it was time to do something really, really crazy. Besides, layered haircuts had become too mundane for me to even consider at this point.

Hence, I went for a pixie this time!

I remember I posted a picture of it on my social media in the month of April last year and some people thought it was an April fool trick. But obviously it wasn’t. I got a really short Pixie and I loved it! (Even though the hairdresser almost cut my ear because her hands moved way too fast)

At the end of the year I colored them Magenta. Yep. On top of that we had an event at our school (Which is Indian) where I had to wear a Saree. As far as I know I felt normal and people were calm about it because everyone knows I’m up to crazy shit almost all the time when it comes down to my hair. I believe that confidence is the best make-up, shoes, hair and dress you’ll ever need to really feel pretty. I fell in love with the hair color because it was bright and lively. It made me feel confident. So, no matter what I wore or where I went, I was always comfortable.

I still have a pixie, though it’s an asymmetrical one now. Also I had to change my hair dresser because the previous one was actually hell bent on slaying my ear. It felt like she was playing ear ninja or something.

So, to get a better picture of my hair journey, here’s an artwork that sums it up.

If Tears Could Think

She had been trying to hide me all day long.

Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling. To an outsider it may seem as though she’s listlessly staring at the wall but I know what she’s really looking at. All the memories are played by her mind and she relives it all; the joy and the sorrow.
She is watching him walk out on her and her mother for the billionth time. The memory evokes longing for a father she never saw. She bites her lip to keep me from getting out.

Hang in there, she’s telling herself over and over again. Her hands are tightened in fists as I tickle the back of her eyes. “No” she whispers under her heavy breath.

In a distance the screeching sound of the breaks of a car are heard. The leaves rustle against her window sill as the soft breeze caresses them. The dark night resonates her mind but I hope she can see the faint flicker of stars at night and begin to live again.

She holds her breath, she knows I’m making my way out.
She forces me to stay one last time but gives in eventually. She closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. As I trickle down her cheek I hear her thoughts, Why am I so weak?
Trickling softly down her flesh I wish I could tell her how strong she really is. It takes courage to let me go. As I bid farewell silently, I pray that she will remember me someday when she’s happy.

Free those tears.
The pain will ease,
Melting your fears.

Remember them again,
When happiness blooms.
This isn’t the end,
You’ll know it soon.



If you had wings,
Would you let them destroy you?

Or would you rather fly,
Exploring skies unknown?

Don’t give up hope just because you don’t have wings. You don’t need them to fly. All you need is a heart brave enough to endure your differences and make them your strength.

A state of mind

“Her lips traced her laughter, her lungs could barely contain the joy”.

The music was loud and people I called my friends laughed with me. A minute has passed and we’re still cracking over some lame joke. An incongruous feeling settles deep inside my heart. I feel it getting stronger with each passing minute.
I’m still laughing while my mind plays flashbacks that I thought I had forgotten; old faces and memories still reside safely in the back of my head.

My heart can barely take it. The images inside my head are so vivid I don’t know what’s real anymore. I’m choking on my laughter. I’m happy, right?

Laughing doesn’t help me forget anymore,
It only brings back memories I love and loathe.


There was once a time when i dreamt with my eyes closed, of things beyond imagination.
With age, wit & so called wisdom; transient waters of time washed away those winsome eyes.
All that remains, are dreams. Yes, dreams that we see with open eyes, that are nothing but a reflection of reality.
The very purpose of dreaming has been seemingly lost along tides of time, every corner of our minds sees only those dreams that reality can confine.

Inspiration for All Rounders.

What truly inspires us?
Now that, folks is a question that nobody really asks themselves. We’re always searching for inspiration and looking up ways on the internet to stay hooked onto one thing. Sometimes, we even narrow down our perspective to the point where we believe that there is only one thing that can truly inspire us. At least I used to think that way. Until I realised that it would never work for me. I’ve seen people draw inspiration from one thing like; there are writers out there who can always pen down their feelings, artists who find peace through a canvas, doctors that love saving people’s lives and social workers who put others interests before there own.
Yet what of those people who don’t fall in just one category but many? I happen to be one of those people. Leonardo Da Vinci was too. Well, I’m not comparing myself with him but it’s quite evident that people like me and him leave things incomplete. The irony lies in the fact being an all rounder; almost completely talented at everything leaves less space for a complete outcome. I start writing stories and never complete them. I’ve tons of artwork that’s mostly painted half. When I was in school, I’d at times leave a tiny chapter at the end of the syllabus for no specific reason. It just made me feel like I was doing the right thing; I was being myself. So, what truly inspires people like us?
Since I haven’t had a chance to meet many people like me (just my mom and a best friend) I’ll try to answer this as best as I can though it’s going to be based on my personal experiences.

1. Remember, inspiration isn’t a concept confined by singularity.

So, you don’t just have to be good at just one thing to be inspired. It is a very wide concept. You can define it in your own way. You can be an artist, a writer or a social worker. Focus on your present, what do you feel like doing right now? Writing, painting, studying( I don’t know most people that enjoy this but I do; I don’t mind being called a nerd), helping people, doing chores, cleaning your room, dancing, playing video games, watching a movie, and there are countless ways to get going.
2. Drawn from feelings.

If you don’t figure out what you’re feeling then how could you find inspiration? But I do get it. At times we don’t feel inspired. The real problem is that we don’t know what we’re feeling. So, give yourself sometime and try to seek the hindrance making you feel down or lazy. Having patience and simply thinking can work wonders unless you end up over-thinking which could drain out all your energy.
3. Know yourself.

I strongly believe that it’s important to know oneself. Because inspiration is truly a personalised concept. If you don’t know your hidden talents and aspirations; you might have a hard time finding inspiration because it’s all inside you. To do this, try new things. Surprise yourself and who knows, inspiration might be waiting for you right around the corner.
4. Have an open mind.
Lastly,think big. This is helpful in almost all situations in life. Don’t go around thinking that you’ll always be the same or you can never do a certain thing. Like, if you have stage fright then you feel that you’ll never be able to speak up. At the end of the day, you’ll be fine. Are people telling you that introverts and extroverts are meant to do different things? Like, the former can write well and the latter are good at public speaking; that’s just plain stupid. There’s no such thing that only certain people are made for certain talents. You can be whoever you want to be, if you have what it takes it achieve it.

So, all these are just my notions about drawing inspiration being an all rounder.