As the ink seeps my skin,
It gives birth to new meaning.
Words that resonate,


From some deep dusty corner;

Of the heart,mind or soul they drop anchor.

No stereotype, nothing to prove,

Artistic labour has given birth.

Encrypted message in all its glory,

It’s now an integral part of me.


Braided for life! 

I once wore braids; tight and even,

My long brown hair was in restrain,

I looked rather nerdy and disciplined.

They gave me a balance,

They gave me an identity.

I walked tall in the awareness,

That my mother’s hands always brought consonance.

She rather enjoyed the daily rigor;

Of tying my hair up tight and proper.

She lovingly smiled rather relaxed and calm,

While I looked at the clock in alarm.

Things were all in control and collected,

Life had an abandon and could be predicted.

The braid I now tie is full of character,

It’s filled with all those days of laughter.

My hands move fast and in practiced sync,

A smile and calm it does always bring.

The face in the mirror is weathered but wiser,

I am all set to embark on my next adventure.



Strange are we!

Strange is our existence!

What we know,

What we don’t,

It’s all strangely universal,

Yet strangely unique.

How we know,

How we don’t,

It’s all strangely regimented,

And strangely compartmentalized.

It’s all so clear,

Yet lines strangely blurred.

All so defined,

Yet strangely flexible.

It’s all rather convenient,

And strangely relative.

Strange are we,

Beautifully flawed, complex;

Yet strangely;the sense is in the chaos! 


Is what you know true?

Isn’t this so true for today’s media frenzied world in which we tend to believe just the perspective we are given on a platter!? Be it current events or history, it’s all skewed in favour of the people with the power. Whether it’s stories of colonization,slavery or just plain business, the view we get is rather one sided and hugely distorted. 

Hope more perspectives and opinions are heard and our mindsets are allowed to evolve such that we see things for what they are; not what we are forced to see them as.



It was a green and peaceful place of joy,

Had a vibe that made me want to explore and the sights enjoy.

We used to take long walks and sigh,

How lovely to feel the wind and admire the blue blue sky!

Then progress came knocking.

We must all have better access to housing,

The more we build; the better for our nation,

Isn’t that a sign of economic development?

The districts we must all connect,

MRT lines wherever there’s signs of any inhabitant.

Sights of workers toiling are a part of our routine,

Cement and bricks are part of the landscape us surrounding.

Sound barriers stand tall in technicolor,

There’s no room for trees, forests or reserves of nature.

Creatures of nature are imagined to intrude our prided quarters,

No understanding placed on the biosphere that’s plundered.

Aren’t we happy indeed!

We are progressing and on the path of success as deemed.

We are a nation of concrete and steel,

Much like the developed and well heeled.

So cheers to our progress,

Hope it’s what we had desired as a nation at the onset! 


Embrace the new! 


As I walk ahead I let the remnants of my past fall,

Some fall easily, some are persistent and me call.

I hesitate and look back to be sure,

There’s only darkness yet some embers do me allure.

The path then moves ahead to light,

I begin to see all that I learnt in delight.

As some thoughts me entangle,

I breathe and let time them handle.

I don’t hold them anymore,

They are not mine to let grow.

Suddenly, I start feeling the wind,

The peace roots in spirit and mind.

I see myself in truth and reality,

What else is left to be seen with clarity?

Slowly but surely I walk with strength and pride,

The walk turns to run and run to flight….

My wings have grown and gotten stronger,

I am free, I am me, I am beauty and wonder! 



When love comes a-knocking!
When love comes to your door a-knocking,
Don’t suspiciously look and send it off not believing,

Be open to the form and ways of receiving,

It may come late or at times it’s about the perceiving,

The beauty is in always being open,

Not letting time or experience make the judgement.

It’s too precious to ignore or deny,

Let it make you better in its presence and multiply.

But if love comes to the wrong door; erring,

Trust that other doors will be the path of opening,

Love bears wisdom in its approach and conduct,

It’s merely the forms that are myriad!