Maya Visai

The theatre i was sitting in bore memories of the past that i wanted to erase. I had initially avoided coming to  the very place thinking that's the best way to get over the memories. It then took me months to understand “Well that's not how it's going to work”. So I learnt about recreation. Recreating the memories with new souls. Souls that would color my past vibrantly with happier memories. So After a very long time i was brave enough to embrace the darkness and watch the Magic happen in the theatre. ( Every movie i watch in theatre is magical ). The soul that accompanied me was the wildest i have known. We chose that movie because we wanted to watch Maddy on screen and nothing else.  There was no expectations from our side but to just sit back and watch a good movie and also eat SPI’s popcorn. Well it turned out to be quite an experience. Everything about the movie was inspiring, Especially the song Maya Visai. Yes, that's how I got the name. But I wa...

It was a sparkling bright day, The clock ticked fast The Humans were in a rush I Wondered where they were headed And then i saw her, Seated With a tiny pocket mirror And a wee box of powdered bindi Her red lipstick made me smile Her hair was tightly braid Dark black with a little orange pin Her saree was elegantly draped Majestic maroon decked with sequins   A yellow thread hung in her neck, And a red stud adorned her ear She had a little tattered bag, And a trifling phone draped in bands Her hands were rough, Foot so rugged, That tattered slipper she wore Would have million stories to tell. There were hundreds of women like her In the same train as i was Everyone so unique, Everyone so beautiful. P.S  This is about a woman i met during my “Just Another Day” of travel to Chennai in the suburban train but she’s definitely not “Just Another Woman” nor was anyone in that coach and also this is no Women’s day. This is “Just...

Poetry is love A love that's so pure, Poetry is beauty A beauty that’s worth admiring. Poetry is ray of light A light that fills the void, Poetry is dream A dream that's worth living. Poetry is memory A memory that's worth inking down, Poetry is savage! A savage that breaks all the rules. P.S : Poetry is for the self before it reaches out to another person, It is what the Heart had always wanted to tell, it is breathing for the troubled soul or probably it is simply what Peter Weir said. Inspired From the Dead Poet's Society.