On a sugar overload

“OK, my daughter’s lost it”

My mom rolled her eyes and said,

“All the sugar that she’s eaten,

Has gone into her head”

“Let me tell you now,

Expect the unexpected,

There’s no telling what she’ll do,

This is hyper-ness perfected.”

“She may start to sing,

In odd voices of all sorts,

Or start to jump around,

Like a kangaroo grown short.”

“She could become a timid

Bunny who likes to bounce,

Or a fearsome puma,

Who on her prey she’ll pounce,

Sadly that is my husband,

And this goes unannounced!”

“And let us not forget,

There is always that chance,

She may think herself as a diva,

And she may start to dance.”

“She may become a gangsta,

She may start to rap,

But we would never get it,

There’s a big generation gap.”

“She could become a witch,

A part of Harry Potter,

Or a powerful demi-god,

Lord Apollo’s daughter!”

“But most likely, she will hear my words,

And then she’ll shout ‘I’ll show’em!’

She’ll grab a pencil, grab a paper,

And pen this silly poem!”

Thanks...

I often like seeing my audience and I marvel at the fact so many read my blog. Thanks so much!!! It really brightens my day! And what's more is that I have readers from all over the world, due to my mom's many friends on Facbook. However, recently we have noticed that there are some readers from Russia, and that's curious as none of us know anybody from over there.

Could you please let me know who you are?

And anyways, thank you all...!!!

Mosquitoes

All of man has one common foe -
And that is the horrifying mosquito
They suck blood, they're fast, they're black,
And size is what they really lack.
But that's the way they want to be,
They'll suck your blood when you can't see.
You'll happily be dancing into the night,
They'll sneak up on you and take a bite.
Or you'll be studying hard with all your books,
And they'll steal your blood, and you won't even look.
Preposterous creatures,
With unpleasant features,
Who can leave red bumps in all sorts of places,
Ruining the most beautiful faces.
This continues to happen all the time,
Shouldn't they be punishable for their crime?
Sometimes we get lucky when we swat -
We hit them right square, and leave them to rot.
But sometimes (most times) they escape, which is plain unfair -
But all I can say is: Near mosquitoes, one must BEWARE. 

"Check"-mate

She was weary, she was tired.
A long day of school, the sun burning hot, and life all mixed up.
Everything seemed so extreme now, like black and white.
Black and white. She smiled at the comparison. A chess game was what this was.
This fight, this ignoring, they were the white side, the angels of the game, but in truth, a pack of wolves.
She, on the other hand, was the black side. Black, because that's what they thought of her. Black because that's what she was. But black suited her perfectly fine, she liked the color. It represented the darker, rarer side of life, dark, but not necessarily bad. She played a one-man game. And she liked it that way.
White was the majority, black, the minority.
This comparison worked in so many ways.
They were the pawns, following one leader, protecting one leader - who had the importance of the king and the strength of the queen.
She was the pawns, and the king and the queen.
Neither of the sides were about to bow down to the other.
Not them, not she.
Her tired mind suddenly seemed alive, jumping with words, their comfort zone, and it poured out.

They ignore, no, they don't look my way.
It's a fight, and it's getting worse day by day.
Should I say sorry, and end this feud?
Or not? For then, it's me they'll exclude! 
I can get this friendship back, the type that doesn't break, 
But is that what I want? My dignity's at stake.
I can change the past - as if it never happened, 
Say the word 'sorry', I might again become the best friend.
But, if I don't, let's be honest, what have I to lose?
The so-called friends might take me back, but I have to choose -
If they are my real friends - well they wouldn't have chucked me out, 
They'd stand by me through good and bad, and now I start to doubt...
For they are playing "Simon Says"
They're following the leader's ways..
Or else they'll be next, I'm sure they're scared, 
They'd have taken the risk if they really cared.
The fight might end, I may go back, 
But my own mind is what I won't lack, 
I'll do what I KNOW is right, 
Even if it leads to another fight!
Friends again? Maybe, maybe not...
But a valuable lesson, I've been taught!

She laughed. It wasn't that easy, as saying sorry, and getting re-accepted. But she did feel better about herself.
As she read it out to her dad, he started to laugh.
"Well, at least something good came out of this fight!"
 


 

"Splash" dance

In soccer- it's the goal I won't get,
In volleyball -the ball doesn't get over the net!
In basketball - I can never reach...
When will I ever, EVER find my niche?
It's where I rush to after school,
A tiny, but lovely swimming pool.
I do it by myself all alone,
Not in the house, yet quite at home!
I'm not fast, oh no, not by far,
I'm not what you'd call a swimming star.
I want to cruise, I want to sail,
I want to compete - but I'm scared to fail,
I've never really been good at sports like the rest,
Yet I won't give up, dreaming one day I'll be best.
For, you see, I believe it's MY place,
It adds a twinkle to my eyes, and a smile to my face.
Inside me, a strong passion burns,
And that's actually what's helping me learn.
It's where I'm me, and this love gives me hope,
That inside I've got a spark, inside I've got some scope -
Maybe if I do exactly as told,
And practice, and practice, I may win that gold...
And though now I'm meeting my failures with a crash,
Later I'll be greeting my successes with a huge SPLASH!

Spectacular love

You know how much I need you...
A feeling so intense,
It's hard to describe.
I met you when I was 7,
Young, I know..
But that's the way it was meant to be...
I befriended you, I started to love you.
You changed when I changed -
And I was always eager to meet the new you, but I would always miss the old one...
You got hurt at my expense -
Badly scratched,
Limbs sometimes bent...
I can't live without you...
You've given me so much...
You've helped me understand,
I learnt all because of you!
One day, one sad day, I may say goodbye -
Only when I'm ready, though...
Only when I'm ready to see the world,
On my own, without you, my lovely full-framed glasses ...

A blog, a breakfast

If any of you ever wondered why I was suddenly writing so much (or at least, more than usual), it’s actually because my mom and I made a deal. She promised she would make an Indian breakfast for us; something she barely ever did. And in return for the dosas, and idlis, and akki rotis, I had to write a blog. Let me tell you, the system was good. Amma kept her side of the deal, and though it would never be a ‘Priya, go and write!’ exclaimed in a harsh voice, I would still get a guilty feeling every time I didn’t write a blog for a breakfast. So my mom’s silent way of pressurizing me paid off. I started to scramble and write to make up for the breakfasts. Actually, I’m still a little short. I think I have to write one or two more articles. To make things easier for me, Amma agreed to let a story be equal to TWO blog-posts. And now I realize I’ve never written about, well, writing, how I feel about it, and all that stuff. So here goes:

I started to write poems when I was six. Astronomy was my favorite topic back then. I still remember my mom used to read to me from this large book about space which I still have. And my brother, though he was only two back then, picked some things from the read-alouds too. And so, that’s what my first poem was all about… the solar system.

Planets of our Solar System

Without a Sun,

We won’t have any fun,

Mercury is the fastest one,

Venus is very hot,

Earth has life a lot,

Mars is a red ball,

Jupiter is the largest of all,

Saturn has rings that are wide,

Uranus rotates on its side,

Neptune is a blue gas ball,

Pluto is the farthest of all.

I can still somewhat recall the excitement I felt at the first line I made all by myself: ‘Without a Sun/We won’t have any fun.’ My mom helped me with ‘Planets of our Solar System.’ I distinctly remember that she gave the line ‘Earth has life a lot.’

That was one of the biggest turning points of my life.

For a long time, I aspired to be writer. I was hugely inspired by J.K Rowling, and at that time I used to live in that fantasy world of Harry Potter, a place I still like to visit sometimes. If anyone ever asked what I would be, “a writer”, I’d say. There was no other answer. Actually, it was kind of surprising considering how when I first started going to school in U.S, I had to learn English as a Second Language (ESL). But after I picked up with my writing, I started to do better and better in English, at one point being in the enrichment program.

It was, however, at the Heritage school in Gurgaon, that my interest was recognized, something I’m really glad they did. On my first Children’s Day there, I was named Ms. Poet. And because of that, I started to write more and more poems, for my projects, birthday parties, and for myself. At that time I was still sure, I would be a writer.

After the move to Bangalore, my interest dropped. My parents let it be, blaming the schoolwork and studies, but at one point I think we all realised I just didn’t want to write anymore. On the other hand, I started to pick up an interest in swimming again; an interest that still drives me to swim whenever I can. But being into swimming didn’t really compensate for my-not-writing, or what I called (wrongly, I guess) my writer’s block. Writing was the one thing I could do pretty effortlessly, the only thing I could do well. Why give it up? I didn’t know. I would always uneasily shrug it off, whenever my parents attacked that topic. I would write sometimes, but it became very, very, rare. Even my diary writing went down, and my poem-writing would’ve almost stopped if it weren’t for the many birthday and anniversary cards I had to make.

I don’t think I’m going to be a writer. I really don’t. But I don’t think I’ll actually give it up again (so long as Amma keeps making her delicious breakfasts)!!! Writing is a really great way of expressing your feelings. And there’s some honesty in it too. Amma is somehow always able to tell when my writing comes from the heart and when it’s just seeming kind of fake. And truth be told, I like expressing my feelings, I just can’t keep anything bottled up inside. And so no matter what I become, or what I do, I’ll have writing with me. It’s my tool, my way, of telling the world what I think, and how I feel. Someday, it might make a handy weapon, honed by all the good breakfasts made by my mom.