Of Sex And All That
Photo Credits : The Nebula Quiet by Kira Issar
Location : Model's appartment, Gurgaon
Her mother stared at her from across the table. In those eyes, she saw the face of years of cultural conditioning, which was now taking the shape of remorse and disgust - the anger flowing like a steady stream of water on the canvas . . .
From reel to real
She walked towards him. Every step of hers, underlined with grace and appealing mannerisms. "Why do you act so helpless?", her voice echoing through the audience. He stared back at her with no efforts to contain the irritation. "Oh! So . . .
She pressed the disconnect button and threw the phone in full force. It banged against the wooden cupboard and fell open. The child came running and wondered what had happened. A wave of frustration arose in her. Anger, despair, . . .
I watched them liking enslaving writings. Writings about the lovers they lost,
the battles they fought and the depressing stuff. They joyously spent,
a dozen and a half minutes, in reading poems of heartbroken girls . . .
Oh! How many summers did you wait for it to open.
Sometimes with a rose in your hand.
Playing the game of ‘love me, love me not’.
Oh! How many falls, fell away, waiting for it to fall apart.
Playing the game of waiting and walking away.
You kicked it hard and . . .
choose your life
Let's take a dive into the unknown,
Break glass ceilings,
And begin new beginnings.
Tell me what you see there:
Books and tales and maybe submarines?
Sometimes floating and sometimes crawling
And maybe . . .