In the 17th century, at the heart of the Spanish Golden Age, was a self-taught scholar and nun, Sor Juana de la Cruz (1651 – 1695). She is recognized today as a national icon, her image printed on the Mexican … Continue reading The Tenth Muse
I am in love with people I have yet to meet, From the small dimples on their face to the tiny freckles on their feet, I’m in love with people I have yet to meet, The way they bite their lip or frown their brows when solving a crossword Their eyes when lose focus as traveling the galaxies from inside Lost in translation, unable to read, and if one day we are to drift apart Continue reading I Am In Love With The People
“I raise up my voice—not so I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard…we cannot succeed when half of us are held back.” ―Malala Yousafzai” Head bowed, Face hidden away, She dreams of freedom, Each … Continue reading International Day of the Girl Child
National Teacher’s Day! Continue reading World Teacher’s Day!
You do not blow a kiss To a fire breathing monster You do not hold blood trickling hands reaching out of a grave You do not clip the wings of a bird Destined to burn them in the sun You … Continue reading Do Not Trespass.
Even the Greek sculptors would fail to capture your beauty
The mystery, the allure all have their specific duty
How the clouds part to reveal the moon and stars,
Who are well aware that their spell has been cast,
Your arrival brings a similar magic,
To not stop and admire it would be tragic,
A sin I would not commit,
A whim to which I cannot submit,
None can compare,
To the aura which you have ensnared,
As flowers at the beginning of day
Like the moon beckoning the water astray
Crystal is my mind,
My feelings for you have me intertwined,
The epitome of excellence is you,
The model of all traits
It is true!
The conundrum now seems how to let go,
How to evade destiny’s call
How to turn away from my curtain call. Continue reading Aura.
Shrill cries pierce my reverie
Vine-y fingers encircle my arm
Shoulders shaken, the cacophony-of worry- fills my ears
Mutely, not protesting in alarm
I am dragged back by The Distressed
Back to my life-as they see fit
I try to speak but am silenced
Not allowed out of home since birth
Atleast not without an escort
Eons have transpired in their pointless worry
Visionless by birth, voiceless by the protector
(I realise) I cannot tell anyone of the things I see
For in my condition, who
In this world would dare believe me Continue reading Within The Confines of My Mind.