Damsels in Distress of Social Media.

I don’t understand why some teens only stick to love & heart break poetry, particularly Indian teens at my school. It’s common to find so many wannabe poets setting up Instagram pages to only write on these two topics. It gets mundane after few posts & even cringe-worthy. This doesn’t imply to all new poets out there but it does to a few of them, as far as I’ve noticed.

Poetry, in its most basic sense, is a means of self-expression which is lost somewhere along the lines of these clichèd topics. Why not write about self-growth, nature, etcetera?

On a more positive note I’ve seen people explore once they’ve established a page. They learn gradually.

On the other hand what undermines a good prose/poetry is its grammar. Why not focus on honing your grammatical skills first?

Some people use big, fancy words that seem to have come straight out of the dictionary. Their only motive is to add some salt to their writing but it still ends up bland, why? Well, the trick to improving your writing style is to keep it simple. There are no restrictions on using fancy words but make sure they meet their purpose.

Look up the meaning of the word you’re about to use & its examples. Try to incorporate it in your daily vocabulary. Don’t just sprinkle them on a prose, try blending it in.

To give life to your writing you need to really understand the word yourself before simply looking up its meaning in the dictionary & using it abundantly. Is the word an adjective or a noun? How do you use them in a sentence? Figure these questions out before making mistakes & posting them online.

There used to be some sort of English club at my school. I can’t even remember the name or what it exactly was. Anyway so it comprised of writers of my school. The one who started it was a prolific writer at my school. She was a straight-A student, always perfect. But what lacked perfection was her writing. Her poems were really good, as far as I’ve heard and she did win a lot of prizes for them too, so it must really be something. But when she began posting her stuff online, I was shocked. I had high expectations but after reading her work, I could observe nothing but grammatical errors(Minor but noticeable), love/heartbreak poetry & improperly constructed sentences.

Writing can be your only outlet, I agree. But make sure it defines you, not love, hearbreaks & sadness only.

Keep it simple & efficient.

Happy writing!

Online Condolences.

Flags painted on cheeks,
As widows silently weep.

An updated profile picture,
After the soul is lost forever.

An article posted online,
While little children whine.

Rage brings people on streets,
But bombs drown their screams.

Vivid photographs capturing pain,

Yet innocent lives die in vain.

The painful echoes of their screams,
Appear on our mobile phone screens.

As we type away in the night,
War engulfs another life.



What is creativity? Well, its definition goes something like this.

Focus on the synonyms above- imagination, innovation, originality & individuality. These are elements that make one creative.

I think self-growth is the most basic kind of creativity that we’re all inherently capable of. We’re constantly creating ourselves. We re-create ourselves as we break.

The canvas we’re working on is life. What makes us different is the tools we use for growth. Not everyone can use a brush to paint strokes of color. Some of us are more habituated to using a pencil for a more crisp outcome. Hence, the rate at which each one of us grows differs too. Some learn to paint early in life while others still struggle to find their right colors.

So, keep growing in your own unique way. Don’t sketch along the same lines as others, your life should be your artwork.

Invent yourself through tough times & experiences.

India VS Pakistan

I think Indians are way better than Pakistani’s considering the fact that we’re all so diverse & straightforward. All our neighbors care about is hurling insults at us. They can’t help but put the blame on India no matter what the situation be. They’re racist to the core. I’m pretty sure the points I mentioned above should suffice to prove my Nationalistic Pride.

Don’t you agree with me too? No? That is great. But if you do, please keep reading.

Growing up in a country other than India or Pakistan gives you enough exposure into various cultures & ways of life. I’ve met some of my family members who left India for Pakistan during the partition decades ago, in this foreign land.

Being an Indian, what comes to your mind on hearing about Pakistan? To tell you the truth the first thing on my mind is my childhood friend who is Pakistani. We literally grew up together. People would often mistake us for sisters. We studied in the same school till 5th grade. We often had little fights as children over India & Pakistan, both of us trying to prove our country’s better. As we grew older we would discuss at length about our cultures & similarities.

I remember going to my cousins place. They are from Lahore, Pakistan. My uncle would get quite racist at times. While all women would talk about clothes & fashion I would sit on a chair in the living room listening to men talk about politics. The fact that my uncle completely ignored was that we were Indian yet he would go on incessantly insulting India. My dad never said a lot during these conversations. He did speak when my uncle wouldn’t stop. But he was always polite.

Some of my Indian friends fathers support the Pakistani cricket team because they’re Muslim. It makes me laugh every time my friends vent out their angst against their fathers at school.

I think cricket is one game where people should support their own countries. It is abnormal to support some other team based on their religion.

Besides sports there should be no place for segregation of this kind. It makes me sick to see people with such mindsets.

One of my Pakistani uncle even said once that why was Pakistan made. At that time we simply laughed. But later I realised it was wrong. No country is perfect & neither are its citizens. Statements like these shouldn’t be uttered. It’s wrong to say such things about ones own country.

I understand that India & Pakistan were separated from each other. Putting blame on one another is useless at this point. Who is better than who, kon kiska baap hai? Notions such as these are of no help.

True nationalistic pride lies in firstly, respecting your own motherland and secondly, giving the same respect to other nations as well.

I was also shocked when one Pakistani, on realising we were Muslim said, “Oh, you’re Indian Muslim?”. I suppose that reaction was out of ignorance but still it was quite unexpected.

I’m an Indian Muslim and a proud one. I don’t hate Hindus. My Pakistani friends have had misconceptions about Hindus but I always tell them that they’re people too, just like you & me. A mere difference between religion doesn’t make them or us monsters.

At the end of the day, there are good people & bad all around the globe. You can choose who you want to be. It’s not religion or nationality that influences their nature, it’s their thinking & how they see other human beings that makes them good/bad.

All the incidents mentioned above have actually happened. I’ve seen people with different viewpoints which I respect because they’re free to speak their mind. However, so am I. The only purpose behind this post is to depict how we’re not really that different. At the end of the day we’re just people, bones & flesh on either side of the border.

Let Her Be

Don’t confine her in poems & prose,
You can’t win her over with a rose.

Leave expectations far behind,
When you’re entering her mind.

She isn’t the heroine of your story,
Her past is the one filled with glory.

Raw beauty by definition,
She’s devoid of limitations.

She has bled to the core,
Yet she’s ready for more.

A bruise for a birthmark,
She was fire since the start.

She is truly exceptional,
Her magic is unintentional.

Killing a tide was a silly notion,
That only enraged the ocean.

Let every man witness,
Her demanding respect.



You seek it in people,
You look for it in skies.
Your wait for a saviour,
Has no end in sight.

Wasn’t it people who took your peace away? Wasn’t it nature that covered an ugly realm with beauty?

You look for consolation, pieces of advice & gratitude in others only because they’ve lived longer than you’ve, seen much more than you’ve.

The solace you seek comes from admiring changing hues of the sky. So, why don’t you change?

Bloom into a saviour, quit waiting for one. Mend yourself through self-love & past experiences. Take control of skies that dwell within you. Give them a chance to show their true colors.

Be the saviour you seek,
In every nook & corner.
You are all you need,
A constant gardener

An Addition to my Art Supplies

Here it’s, finally completed!
This artwork, as is evident, is inspired by Rajasthan. The photograph also features my really old Rajasthani jewellery I used to wear as a child in fancy dress competitions & stage plays.

So, this is a post specifically about my true love, painting! I recently bought ‘Winsor & Newton’ water color set & to tell you the truth, it’s a blessing in disguise. The colors are just so vibrant & beautiful. Looking at them I could only think about Rajasthani culture which has vibrant colors imbibed deep within its roots.

When I was 8 I bought a water color set of a local brand to teach myself painting.

As you can see, it was time for my old pal to retire! 😀

Here’s what my latest addition to art supplies looks like :

Thanks for reading!

Things We Underestimate

1. Respect.
Anyone can earn money but try earning some respect along side a prosperous bank account.

2. Compassion.
You can be strong, resilient & confident but having a little bit of compassion will do no harm.

3. Tears.
Let them fall. Holding them back will only make you weak.

4. Wisdom.
It’s not only good experiences that count in life. Bad ones can be a source of immense wisdom.

5. Tolerance.
You don’t always have to be right. Remember, your ego isn’t your amigo if you’ll stoop down to any level to prove your point.


The dead leaves he never steps on,

Are remnants of his damaged heart.

That so many have trampled upon,
Leaving him in broken parts.

As a result he has never felt whole,
He is just a heap of bones & tears.
Broken promises have taken a toll,
Giving birth to brand new fears.

With the first ray of sunshine,
He wipes his tears with a smile.
But as the last ray disappears,
All his lies vanish with the light.



A poem devoid of rhymes,
A religion missing devotion.
My soul is the ultimate sign,
Of a canvas lacking emotion.

My thoughts fill the pages,
Of A book without a name.
Mirroring a lamenting visage,
That will never be the same.

I’ve tried hard to feel whole,
With the dawn of a new day.
Yet the cracks in my soul,
Come alive with the dying sun ray.