50 shades of happiness

There are many words for happiness,
And so many sorts as well.
There's euphoria, a grand word
That expresses the fireworks of happiness bursting inside,
And then there's glee,
Which seems just as strong, but squeakier.
Delight is an absolute happiness,
But not expressed as violently.
Exuberance and ecstasy are ultimate,
A punch of feeling,
While contentment is so much more peaceful.
But what I feel right now,
As I write deep, metaphorical poetry,
Is a sort of quiet satisfaction.
Not apparent in anything but my relaxed stance.
And really, satisfaction is the right thing to feel,
Considering I'm the only one in the bus with enough space to sit.

Symphony

People are like songs,
With their own rhythms and tunes.
And each one, each one is unique.
Some may seem too loud for you,
Or too soft, and one may start one way,
And end another.
Some may abruptly change.
Some songs get stuck in your head,
And then are forgotten as if they were never there,
And others, you can never get over.
There are only a few songs you can listen to,
Again and again, even after you've memorized their lyrics,
Backwards and forwards, and know their tunes like the back of your hand.
There are so many songs in this world, child,
And so when you choose your playlist, choose carefully,
Surrounding yourself with melodies that make
Your feet tap,
Your head bob,
And your heart sing.

If Germany were a person

If Germany were a person, she would always be a bit cold.

Always reserved, polite but clear with her boundaries.

She would be beautiful off course, and I won't go on to describe her because everyone's idea of beauty differs, but she would catch your eye.

If Germany were a person she would be good with her hands, good with mechanical work.

She would be practical, so much so that her romantic aspects are often overlooked.

Germany would get things done, she would be a leader.

She would work out and stay fit and stay strong.

But once you got to know Germany, you would realize she is not as different from you as you thought, that the common aspects of humanity link the both of you.

Sometimes Germany would show a bit more affection, and her kisses would be sweet, would brush you like a cool breeze on a hot day.

If Germany were a person, if neat, organized, beautiful Germany were a person, she would have had a past. She would, if she felt secure enough, show you her scars and let you know that the wounds heal slowly, and that some marks are permanent.

But she would also show you that people are not remembered by their scars.

I do not know how Germany would treat a tourist, but she stretched her arm out to me, and as her fingertips met mine, whispered in my ear, 'Let me show you the true meaning of wanderlust.'

Happy Ugadi!

I wish I could call him something other than 'Garbage Waala Uncle', but I don't know his name. I should ask. He works in my apartment and is probably one of the nicest people I know.

Today, I wished him 'Happy Ugadi' and his mouth widened into a grin. He started thanking and blessing me, his eyes not meeting mine, but the joy on his face obvious. This was not the first time he had acted like this. The last time, I had inquired after his family, and perhaps had wished them all the best or something, but I remember the same delight on his face, the way he started muttering under his breath, blessing me.

The security guard uncle outside the grocery store, Ahmed Bazar, acts much the same way, smiling every time I thank him or wish him.

It makes me wonder... These people are happy with the smallest things in life. And it leaves me feeling bittersweet. How much attention do they really get? How much are they acknowledged in daily life? Their whole social status, probably their view of themselves, is determined by their job and how it is ranked in the social ladder.

In the US, I think, it would not have been so. Whether a person is a maid, a babysitter, or a businessman, they make sure they are recognized. They raise their voices if they aren't.

These people around me, they are probably the most humble people I know. To be acknowledged is a great thing for them, to be treated as an equal, even more so. And yet, they are the strongest. They provide a lot to the society and they ask for so little.

The tradition of Ugadi is to eat something both bitter and sweet. And these people, make our lives that much sweeter.

Subject: Recommendations Of Candidates For Mars One

Have you heard of the one way trip to Mars?

A bunch of people who aim for the stars,

But on the red planet are landing,

A feat (and a price) quite outstanding!

It must be super hard to participate,

But I know a few potential candidates.

No, I don't want to go on this trip,

I'm not really into space ships.

But please take into consideration,

My suggestions, recommendations.

My neighbor is a great example,

A woman with energy ample,

Which would better be spent in outer space,

Than used to scowl every time she sees my face.

So yes, I'd be over the moon,

If I knew she'd be going soon.

Then there's the Aunty across the street,

Who's fashion sense is always on beat.

But unfortunately so are her ears,

And she makes it her mission to spread all she hears.

Who's generous with the information she's acquired,

And of bitching, is never tired.

So for the gossipiest character under the sun,

She definitely belongs on Mars, that one.

Then there's the ... unique case,

Of just returning someone to outer space.

Who was lost and aimless and seemed to roam,

It's all about just sending them home.

He calls himself my class teacher,

But I'm still convinced that he's a creature,

From a planet even further than Mars,

Whose home planet is lost in the stars.

But for this man whose teaching is extraterrestrial,

Mars is just as good a home, I feel.

There are few more people who you wouldn't have thought

Of as the ideal astronaut,

But should be in that spaceship, should sit in,

I have a good feeling they'll fit in,

And will create a community that is meant,

For people like them, sour and unpleasant.

So here you have the list of candidates from a 15 year old girl,

Of people she wants out of her life, and if possible,

Out of her world.

Brain Drain

When neurons keep firing,

Life just gets tiring.

With a brain that chatters,

About things that don't even matter,

Little events become dramatic serials,

And everything makes me feel inferior.

I start to lose hope,

I self pity and mope,

Thinking that I just can't cope..

With a brain that never shuts up.

My brain is the mosquito that won't leave me alone,

It's three a.m., and sleep's still not my own.

The mosquito that won't leave no matter how much I swat,

And continuously bombards me with thought after thought.

My brain is the motorcyclist on Indian streets,

Who decides out of the blue that there's just too much peace.

And even though the traffic can't move an inch,

He honks so hard, it makes people flinch.

My brain is the student with too many doubts,

Who's got three questions lined up before you can get the next word out.

The student you can't even kick out of class,

Just because she happens to be the principal's lass.

I wish I could see the parts of my brain and sternly tell 'em,

(While continuously glaring at the Cerebellum -

who controls the thinking)

That my sleep duration keeps shrinking,

Because of their nonsensical blabber,

Because of how they murmur and jabber,

And kindly request that they keep

Their traps shut, and let me sleep.

And just as my eyes begin to close,

Sleep is near, I just know,

I can faintly hear my brain say,

'Hey! Remember what happened the other day?'

And suddenly I'm alert, wide awake and bright,

It's going to be a very long night.

'Tis the time...

If I was someone else before I met you, I don't remember it. My parents say I am though, so I should take their word for it.

I guess I understand changing but now? Now, I won't be able to recognize my old self.

When I first met you, you seemed so promising. I told everyone about you, I told them about what all we would do together, I knew, I knew things would be great.

But someone sitting up there just laughed.

I can't blame you for everything. Some of my decisions were self destructive, and I brought the effects upon myself.

As I got to know you better, things started going downhill. Things that should have happened didn't and those that shouldn't have did, there were disappointments and hurt and drama, and it was hard you know? Hard.

Some things worked out though, and I feel good about that.

I can't say I'm sorry that we're leaving you behind, but I want to thank you for all the lessons you have taught me. And you did teach me a lot.

I don't remember who I was before I met you, 2014, but I think I know who I want to be now, and hopefully, I'll get there.