Thoughts to Words

Apparently, Humour has a 'clandestine' affair with Pain, clandestine- is a hushed opinion, as good as the paparazzi’s interference. The lovers meet secretly but in the open, encircled by cosy zones, and cushions of comfort, sometimes crossing lines, perhaps to touch the horizon, to sing the chorus of their ascension, loud and clear, of the love that has it all. The cookies crumble, but are not heard on purpose, noise gives you the urge to purge and you act in accordance with your health  to protect its wealth. In love,  you may not be  'made for each other', but all that matters  is the unifying power  that you have  when you are together.  ©songbriti

The M.O.R.N.I.N.G in the morning stands for? You find out. Motivational quotes  are mostly sources of instant gratification when you consume it,  it is the summertime rain in your mind, pacifying you, you can dance to its beat and retweet it. Summer, being strong-headed, won't be lenient with heat, you'll sweat, sweat like a human and not a pig, a much-needed break,  you'll NEED, not WANT but NEED. The break is an experiment, the scope for further research you get after the break, is yours rightfully, even assessing the sunlight  without a recess, is up to you. Scientists may draw inspiration  from libraries and laboratories, but they have a unique dream  walking the talk in their revolutionary patents. ©songbriti

Ajay Pandita, a Kashmiri Pandit sarpanch was recently killed by terrorists. I am not interested in joining the club of pseudo-liberals and I will voice my humble opinion when a life is lost due to terrorism. About terrorism and its employees, a terrorist is a brainwashed person who has cut all ties with humanity and can go to any extent to fulfil a nasty agenda. Whether terrorism is hidden behind the mask of a political party and operates on fascist ideologies or it is being practised by keeping guns and bombs on religion's shoulder to set ablaze innocent lives, it is the same damn demon performing atrocious crimes and conspiring against civilization in different clothes. With the ability of logical reasoning, how hard is it to understand that the immoral deeds of a person have to be challenged and it has to be done without siding with a particular label? The only team you should be rooting for is humanity and it doesn't have reservations for a specific caste, creed, sex, race,...

When it comes to instincts, it's hard to walk past them. Damn, they're the testimony of how I ran out of tissues to wipe you off my eyes. I shouldn't be appalled if my eyelids explode like a pressure cooker punched in the tummy. I trusted the trust you fabricated with the diabolical atoms from Lucifer's body. Although you never were a fallen angel. You were the slur that perchance died out under the sun but the dead are loafers chilling out here and there as the darkness to the conceited sky which is hungrily lusting to have eight distinctly adulterous consummations with the moon.  The venom in me isn't your contribution. I wouldn't give you the power of attorney because anything that has you in it is an arrow stuffed with the yolk of the deil. Plotting to drag me to a bed that has a sheet flattened out of a dragon who is in his slumber but is very much in contact with the inferno boiling in his mouth.  In the cup of your hands was the fault in my stars, I worsh...

Absorbing a thousand and one Arabian nights in fear, my feathery filaments supply oxygen  and sonnets of hope in the bloodstream. The marsh arteries  in my courtyard, compile political convulsions and maritime disputes, contusions sprouting  from partition and bleeding internally. The flamingos legally keep shifting homes, summarizing the winters to their baby cousins  at the summer palace, but I am a refugee and an earning, with ordinary fins  in this extraordinary estuary. Fishermen of Kutch and Sindh ritually have their dignity ripped and boats seized because of me. Borders have sledgehammered  the heritage of my solitude, any considerate Jinni in the sea who can bring me a glimpse of it? ©songbriti

Socializing is a component that is a partially gold and partially silver member if not a platinum member in an ambivert's circle. As much as I enjoy entertaining my family and friends with politically incorrect jokes, I also love talking to myself, loud and clear in my room.  I have a soft corner for books. Last Christmas, I was gifted an e-book device (on my demand of course). The only child is pampered for the better sometimes, isn't she Santa? There are a list of books queued in a disciplined way on my Kindle's shelf to unveil their voices to me and I am delighted to give them all the attention I can during this free time. The question of making peace with self-isolation is not applicable to me because I am my best company and solitude is more than invited. How difficult is it anyway to stay indoors and do what you haven't had the time to do in a while? First off, family time specially with my furry brother is saving coins of happiness because none of us can practic...

Poetry is the mountain  where I meditate  in the crest  of calmness. Poetry is the rope I grip with hope when fierce tornadoes gobble up the sunshine and there is existential crisis. Poetry is the moonlight arranging a romantic ambience for all my solo dinner dates. Poetry is the universal donor donating a reason  to quarantine myself when a pandemic  is simmering in the air. Poetry is the history left in me, poetry is the reflection of my aspirations, poetry is the backbone of my soul. ©songbriti