Thoughts to Words

All these social media posts which confidently begin with 'Psychology says...' and then state some directional or non directional hypothetical statements on a wide range of variables like love, relationships, human nature, etc what is up with your ethical consideration? Imagine if Psychology could file a defamation case against you? Social media is gaga over filters then why are you hesitant to filter out the incorrect information before betting for likes and comments? I understand not everything on social media is to be taken seriously but the growing influence of social media is a reason enough to be concerned. What is seen, heard and spoken on this platform has a tremendous impact on young minds. If Psychology really interests you, you must be cognizant of the fact that it is a science. A science, yes you read that right. Creative liberty is the gateway to innovation but misusing the name of a science to make-believe myths and stereotypes is like producing a malicious vi

For a writer, life is an art in the gallery of papers and pens dipped in experiences, spilling inspiration on Earth to peacefully free what has been put to rest, to care about what is worthwhile in the present and to accept the uncertainty of the future but believe in dreams. 'Life is a muse' thinks a writer but she is the muse of life. ©songbriti

"Cold grass blue tea." Disorganisation has its own way of defining things. The floor is having a blast of pastry cream and confetti. It is her birthday, I was ordered to celebrate it. Alexa, my virtual assistant reminds me that I have an appointment at 4pm. A bottle of water is ready on my bedside table and a clozapine. "Whispers of Immortality." Reading books used to be my favourite pastime, not anymore.The last book I read is in the store room, fighting for its life as the worms have begun their coursework. I push myself to the right corner of the bed after she declares she needs more space. Adjusting to her orders is not a choice. "How are you feeling today?" "I am surviving." The session ends after an hour and I leave Dr. Mehta's cabin with a smile. If you think, all the sessions have a happy ending, I must tell you that my battle is not plotted in Fantasyland. There are days when I cry out loud while describing how she scares me

Democracy, Kicked to the right, then to the left, scoring penalties for voicing opinions, before it is thrown off the centre stage, politics has an accidental of humour, and a paradoxical phobia for speech, rallies where speeches have added preservatives, failing to cover up the leaking corruption after the dicey win, what NOTA are you talking about? when all of the above is indulged in booth rigging? scapegoats slaughtered in the name of religion, quotas reserved for violence, even after colonialism was pushed out, the Economist Intelligence Unit headquartered in London, takes the honour to inform the world, the India they ruled for 200 years has successfully carried forward their authentic teachings of divide and rule, to be recognised globally as a flawed democracy.

At granny’s house last summer, she shared how she missed her ancestral home, the tree in her neighbourhood with star apples, where she often met grandpa, he was caught stealing her heart there. Clay models she sculpted, depicted invincibility! the cub on the mother's lap, in the showcase, they belong to mom, it is her birthday gift, but they are my friends and good listeners too. Granny-The Michelangelo of our family. Education in India bunked the classes on renaissance, even after 1947, judge me not you grin of hypocrisy, are Sahifa Banu and Amrita Sher-Gil alive? Artists are supposed to be eternal but do textbooks in school teach gender neutrality? Her almirah had pure white sarees, red and purple were her favourites. Regressive mentality, kept in Pandora's box during Dussehra and Holika Dahan? Granny would sit by my side; a cup of ginger tea, the setting sun, all her attention on my stories. I would tell her… how efficiently I enacted the rol

I can't bring the moon for you, but I can be your northern star, whenever you feel lost, I promise to stand by you, and light the way, you decide to walk on. ©songbriti

Words are interesting. I place them one after the other in the most convincing way to make you fall for them. A creature tucked inside a comforting blanket, a cup of bed tea will suffice as a bribe for you. I play my instrument of truth effortlessly and I make you the flag bearer of it. While you scream slogans of my bravery, I laugh at your half-grown sensibility. Pawns don't verify the lie because the luxury of truth can cost them their lives. ©songbriti