B» ~*´`*｡*ﾟ° ~



It is even ready to die for vengeance.
— % &

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you go on a blind date with.

Often it is an average package - regular, plain and mundane. You go through it because you want to get to the end of it.

On occasion it is a deranged wacko, just one peek and you realise that is a terrible disaster. Time stretches to an eternity, and you grit through it, your mind plucking out imaginary hair like chicken feathers.

But quite rarely, it turns out to be movie-level perfect.You are smitten. You just don't want it to be over. Though it ends anyways and all you are left with is a story to tell about this exquisite atypical rendezvous.
— % &

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The closest he came to confession was when she stood next to his locker.

The girl who kept missing her handkerchiefs to the point of frustration- plain ones, perfumed ones, filled with snot ones.

If she had laser eyes she would have found them all hoarded inside the locker like some coveted treasure.

— % &

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Why do you remind me of things like
Cotton candy and teddy bears,
Making me feel sleepy and vulnerable ?

Even though you look
Deceptively still,
I know you keep moving-
Always in the same direction
As your fellow companions.
Do you all share one mind?

Did you not want to go against the tide even once?
No winds of defiance?

But what annoys me most
Is your pliancy, you shape-shifter,
Why don't you let me complete my story on you?
I start with an elephant, but before I finish,
you end up a dragon.
— % &

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Feminism is exploring in a profound way the empathy in our hearts that leads us to believe in a world tending to equality and a mysterious interconnectedness among all things- living and non-living, pervading the whole of universe. — % &

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Drowning in thousands of tiny little thoughts every moment, each one holding the potential to burst into a thousand more, at the slightest touch. Having given up on the blessings of simplicity long back, we have learnt to lie down on our back and look at our thoughts like a kid gazing at the clouds, knitting stories at the different shapes and colors.

We are story tellers, us women- with words, with gestures and sometimes, with plain silence. — % &

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Fish in glass bowl
Fell asleep to sound of waves
Little did she know
They were freedom cries by sea.

— % &

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A grumpy grandma whining about
Being forgotten,
Lays folded, untouched,
From the mid of Feb,
Sighing at the early onset of Summer heat.
— % &

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I stared at the ground where his shadow was supposed to be. I wondered if I am missing something. I looked around for some kind of explanation for the strange phenomena. Perhaps a light source that muted the shadow on the ground, but couldn't find any.

(Continues in the caption) — % &

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You are all invited to my funeral.
Watch me dance, sing, do stand-up comedy
On pre-recorded videos projected wide-screen
And you better stay seated till the very end.
It is not nice to be rude to the dead!


(P.S - Please bring your own drinks. It is a low-budget funeral) — % &

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