GloPoWriMo 18/30

Something you subconsciously enable to be furthered within my society,
Without understanding the ill-effects of your existence,
The trauma of your association,
The preservation,
And lynched creation you force upon peoples,
Who struggle to shake you off.

What you are able to do,
Is create classes,
Mobilize masses: who react unknowingly,
Respond provokingly,
With condescension in every word,
Every breath,
Every beating.

You entrap,
You enslave, and you,
You limit potential: an insult higher,
More denigrating, disgusting,
Than the expletives that
Dominate every 13-year-old’s narrative.

I struggle to shake you off daily,
People believe you come from the field,
The road,
Swirling; creating a storm,
Clinging onto my skin,
Holding onto my soul,
In plain view of the world.

They’re wrong.

You are venom,
Slow poison that,
I pick up every time I walk around alone,
Every time I hold a book up at that person’s face,
Or build a wall across the border that is my personal space.

You are,
That nagging reminder that society has a
Perception of who I am
What I can be:
A thought that profoundly scares me.

And I fail to understand,
How when I stand on the shore of the sea,
At the crossroads between waves and the sand,
Water is able to erase your existence so easily:
When I’m struggling to wash you off daily.

GloPoWriMo 17/30

I sometimes write letters in my head,
To people, I meet only once,
And then seem to forget.

“Friend”, I recollect:
Your name merely one on my newsfeed,
Social media reminding me we share memories,
Stories, pictures and inside jokes,
Your display picture is one I scroll past,
Your status is one I read and regret.

I sometimes write letters to you in my head,
Reminding you of the ice-cream you ate,
The tacos we shared, the mess you made,
But I always bin them,
“Acquaintance”, I recollect:
The letter best left not posted,
Your name best left unsaid.


GloPoWriMo 15/30

I made it to the halfway stage. 15 more days of having to cope with my attempts at poetry, guys! 🙂

It started with a YouTube video
I stumbled upon when I typed Law,
And filled my little, dark brown eyes with
Amazement, wonder, and awe.

It started with a YouTube video,
One I didn’t completely understand,
But one that contained euphoria, disappointment,
Shiny things like trophies,
Portraits of individuals who looked so cool, they could be in a band.

A band named Champions,
For that’s what they were:
In my head and in fact.

It started with a YouTube video that
Sparked off nights of dreams
But days of work
That eventually amounted to nothingness
A subpar rank
That confirmed I would never be them.

3 years on I was gifted a chance,
I stopped eating right,
Sleeping right,
Thinking straight.

That too amounted to nothingness,
And today I find myself wondering:
If it all started with a YouTube video,
Maybe all I need to end it:
Is another one.


GloPoWriMo 13/30

Again, with a little delay. Here is poetry I’ve written.

With your misleading words,
Marvels of punctuation,
And bias, that goes unnoticed,
You manage to convey information to individuals,
Who ignore the rest of the story you seek to portray.

You are an ally of the junkie,
Of the student starting GK preparation a tad bit late,
Of every child whose mother forces him to read.
But the foe of addicts,
Who are stopped at Page 3.

I have no opinion about you,
But I fail to understand why you are capitalized,
And publicized,
As opposed to the text below you.
For just like world leaders today,
Whom you often describe,
You take focus away from truth.

GloPoWriMo 12/30

I come from a place,
Whose name does not roll off my tongue,
But lingers,
And with my semi-accented tone,
Leaves a bittersweet aftertaste:
Half part nostalgia,
Half part disgust.

Let me explain:
I come from a place not-very-well known,
And on the edge of the map, barely visible, barely shown,
Without prominent roads,
Or crowds, or wooden doors,
But huts and sheds,
And temples.

Temples of deities I pray to daily but
Forget their names,
Part of a rehearsed exercise,
Year after year,
To forget memories of the mountain I once climbed,
And the dust my parents drove me through.

I come from a place that I’m not ashamed of,
But a place I misrepresent
Night after day after night,
In the hope that my association
Is to deserts and not to dust,
Is to silicon, but doesn’t reflect my blood.

And I ask myself why I do this,
Hoping that I’m one of the few,
But the places that we come from are places
That make our existence possible,
More than the places that shape us,
For without my roots,
My mother’s rasam would contain more tamarind,
My father’s stories wouldn’t put me to sleep,
And I would be, like the city I now call home:

GloPoWriMo 11/30

In speech, we feel superior,
Making statements,
To fill voids of silence, marked to be inferior,
As with indigenous tongues, treated as ailments.

We use words we don’t understand,
To boast of our vocabulary,
Condescend; Never empathize,
Underlying principles such as (a lack of)
Causes relationships to capsize

GloPoWriMo 10/30

Today’s prompt: Write a love letter to something you hate

You split my country into nonexistent boundaries and leave your aftertaste in my mouth for
5 whole years,
By which time I can finish off my Law degree and hopefully settle abroad,
Just to escape your clutches.

You provide headlines for my grandfather, who revels in your existence,
But you scare my Ajji to her wits:
For every day she begins to believe our country is filled with hatred and violence
A little more than she did yesterday.

You create arbitrary standards for success,
But your success rate is akin to Domino’s promise of 30 minutes or free,
Because where you fail to deliver,
Nobody is able to hold you accountable.

Such is your grasp over people’s imaginations,
That they fail to see past your saffron or your tricolour.
You drive the youth into an ideological frenzy,
Where religion, language, and corruption are part of their daily diets
But you take our country nowhere,

For we still fall behind on metrics globally accessed and viewed,
And every indicator you provide is an improvement only compared to your Opposition,
Because blurring the line between truth and fiction,
Is not a trend that Donald Trump has started,
But a contribution we should be proud of providing to the World.

GloPoWriMo 9/30

Today’s Prompt was to write 9-line poetry.

Dear Chemistry,
To you, I was a mere pupil,
But to me, you showed me my x’s and answered my y’s in the form of Orbitals.
You embodied the Universe in Periods and Groups,
Taught me to be an artist, as I drew Organic Compounds with straight lines,
Nurtured my passion for History by teaching me about Rutherford, Mendeleev & Curie.
You took me in your arms and narrated
The immense beauty of perfectly conducted Neutralization and Oxidization,
But you had no reaction to my love.

GloPoWriMo 8/30

Today’s prompt: The last line of your favourite poem. Mine is “Pike” by Ted Hughes (

That rose slowly towards me, watching,
As I faltered at multiple steps.
That watched as,
I took some credit for team events,
And watched without warning,
As I basked in recognition.

That rose too far,
And as with everything else,
Came crashing down upon me,
Dawning the realization that
Nothing external will save you at your lowest
Least of all,

Your own ego.


GloPoWriMo 7/30

I’ve been away debating for the last two days so I’ve written down my poems in a book, but forgotten to post them. Here’s me playing catch up.

As I cycle,
What becomes clear to me is that life slows down
When you are in motion,
And that is a counterintuitive statement I must explain.

As I pedal away,
My wheels revolving and covering meters of tar,
And dust,
My brain fades to black,

Nothing except:
The winding trail in front of me,
And the privilege of breathing clear air.

Life slows down,
Because as I turn through corners,
I pretend to be a MotoGP rider:
Leaning and collecting the wind as I drive past,

Allowing me to reflect on my life’s ambitions,
And every turn that landed me where I am today.