Weekly Writing Challenge

A Vow of Silence?

For this week’s challenge, Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence, a letter from an Anonymous, speaking about silence.. through my POV..


“It’s something so common for me, like a language, for it has inadvertently replaced my mother-tongue. Like a second skin to cover my tanned exterior. Like a wall, that shields me from the world, and sometimes, me. Like the pillow to which I’ve narrated countless feelings, and still they remain unheard..and anonymous. Like a best friend, who comforts me in the dark, and unseeingly holds my hand, as I walk through their corridor.


It’s something that the oppressor have repeatedly desired from the oppressed, for it is the later’s weakness.

It’s something that it takes for the world to be happy with you, for to not have it tags you ‘rebellious’.

It’s something that every individual desires from another, even if it is for a moment.


It is something of me that gives you the right to comment on me.

It is something of me that makes it okay for you to bully me in that corridor.

It is something of me that makes it acceptable for you to abuse me in the darkness of night. Or maybe, even in a crowded bus.

It is something that the society taught me was good.


It is something  that we all speak at some part of our lives. Some more than the others.

It’s something that the dominating spouse demands from you.

It’s something that a parent demands from you, and you, in turn, from your child.


It has long been the unseen glue that holds a marriage, or for that matter, every relationship, together.

An abuser’s fantasy.

A secret to be your boss’s favourite, sometimes.

Or sometimes, it is just to prevent suspicions from falling your way, or just, making you look bad.


It is something that has long being said is one of the most beautiful jewel to adorn the human, yet when I wear it, you term me weak.

It resonance may be golden, but remember when that resonance fades and there is the dull hanging in the air, you may hear a symphony that will rock the air out of your lungs, for it will be in that moment when I will discard this jewel and adorn a more precious jewel: My Voice.



Love – It’s What You Claim You Deserve

Happy Valentine’s day to y’all! Although, the day has ended on my side of the planet, nonetheless.

So, this week’s Weekly Writing Challenge: My Funny Valentine? gave me an idea. (Well, what can I say, I love challenges and love twisting them in my own way!)

Considering how this day is such a big deal for everyone, for the obvious reasons to the ones who have a valentine, and a day to find one for some of us who don’t, I decided to explore the natural tendency of the human race to find love.

Do we actually deserve the love we claim we deserve?

Just give it a read…

You claim it’s what you seek,

a love beyond your greatest belief,

yet you hide in your deepest corners,

the dark shadows of your grief.

You think another glass could

hide the cracks of your past,

but don’t you know,

this illusion won’t forever last?

You weigh love with,

whatever pleases your jaundiced eye.

But what if, that look,

is just an illuding, beautiful lie?

You seek the loving company,

yet your heart secretly desires solitude,

for it can’t bear being trodden upon

by the clash of egos and attitude.

You say that you deserve love,

yet hate is all you’ve spread,

and so high is the mountain

of carcasses of relationships dead.

You say you seek the light,

but say, how’ll it thrive,

when the darkness that you hide beneath,

won’t let it survive?

If you seek love, then do it for all the right reasons..and if or when you do find it, maybe it’s a good idea to not let the issues, trust, commitment or other, to burn out what they say, the most beautiful feeling in the world.

Till then, it’s better to stay single!

Something That Allures Me To You

This is something I wrote for Weekly Writing Challenge: Leave Your Shoes at the Door.. Not too great but hope you still like it.

The p.o.v. of a stranger watching another stranger travel daily..

“I see you take the same route everyday. Headphones in your ears, your lips moving rhythmically, as you try to sing along the lyrics. Your eyes, they move curiously, shying away from a stray pair of eyes, that may just happen to land on you. That’s when you’d tuck a stray lock of hair, fallen astray from your loose hair, behind your ears. Your cheeks a brilliant shade of red, with the unwanted attention.

“Occasionally, you’d shake your shoulders as if you’re doing a step in your mind to match with the beat, and pretending to be ignorant, when you see me looking right at you.

“There is a sprint in your step, a glint in your eye, or is it a drop of unshed tear that you are trying so hard to mask with your smile?

“You try to move your way all the way to the front of the crowd, your feet always in a hurry, yet you pause for the old lady to pass by.

“You see everyone, yet you’re lost in your own world. A world of peace, no doubt, from where you find that lost smile. Or maybe, it’s a world of hope, that you’ve clutched on so tightly, that reflects in your smile.

“You may not be the most beautiful person but there is something about you that allures me to you. Something that shows me how beautiful you are inside.”

An Innocent Affair

A flashback of the good ol’ school days..


So, another challenge caught my eye, Weekly Writing Challenge: Lunch Posts, and I instantly remembered my school days, so thought of writing a poem, which was intended to be a short one, but that’s what happens with me sometimes..


it’s weird that i’d remember, you know,

for i didn’t care much for you back then.

it was a time unvalued,

gosh! how long it’s been since then.

as the chalky white words were written

via the canvas of the board on our books,

we’d find a chance to open

a secret away from the teacher’s looks.

bite by bite as it all vanished

into a well, mysteriously deep,

trying our best to mask the smell

so the secret remained ours to keep.

covering the potholes of secret,

we looked on with naive eyes

masking the chewing as a habit of hands,

we tried to sell our harmless lies.

no, we weren’t obese or severely starved,

just 12 o’clock lunch was ages away

back-benchers, with bags covering the view

grabbing every opportunity to feed our stomachs away.

hardly we were ever caught,

you know, we were a clever lot,

the best ones in the school prolly,

the stomach’s pain feeding our folly.


strange, how we were forever hungry,

and gobbled everything that our mothers gave,

along with a special canteen recess, later,

with the pocket money that we’d always save,

for now the lunch boxes

are brought home, as they were,

no longer a stash of secrets,

to be eaten at the 9th hour.

it is a memory, of the days,

when sat all the girlfriends,

gobbling from the other’s lair,

to carry on the innocent affair.

Lots of love..

xoxo 🙂