Happy mollusc

Do you know what I feel?
I think you need a tragedy
Yeh
To fill the gap
Build a bridge
Between
Who you are
And
Who you want to be
Maybe it’s sadistic…?
Wanting to inflict pain
When you have no reason to
Moaning with self pity
When there’s no despair too
.
The world is your oyster I hear
The one with the pearl or without?
I ask
Because you see
The details matter
Not all oysters have pearls
And not everyone has goals
That are achieved ideally
What if my oyster lacks it?
The pearl..
.
Did you know?
A happy oyster doesn’t get a pearl
While a traumatized oyster
Gets one
I swear
True story
So now you see..
Why I am a sadist?
Well no, I am not
Not really
But hey
Getting a pearl
Is cool, right ?
Don’t you want one?
I would
.
.
.
But you know what
Just..
Blow up your sorrow
Like ×10 times
But get over it
Like in 2x
Make your pearl
Because hey
Miseries are personal 
That’s your fair share
Why would you want to compare?
Your pearl
It’s waiting just there…

-Sandhya Sadhanand

New beginnings

Been a barren land lately
Are your flowers the revolution?
Intoxicating me vaguely 
Inside an optical illusion

Of merry-go-rounds 
And happy-go-lucky towns
With balloons and butterflies 
Flying all around the place

Making me forget my race
Against time and future

Ha..this aroma
Of freshly baked buns 
And steaming hot chocolate 
Indulging me in the warmth 
Of your memories and hugs

Listen…
Your voice 
It’s a standstill 
Waking me from my slumber
Reminding me to breathe in
,
Not just those rotten trees
But also
Your eventual breeze…

Sandhya Sadhanand

In an impasse

I wish I could tell you
exactly how I feel
Articulate my emotions
in metaphors and rhymes
Carrying coverted messages
of the mundane world
I wish I could tell you
That my definition
of life
has been twisted
Yours and mine.
For day and night
are just a blur
As time dissolves
and I could see it
circle down the dirty drain
Round and round
and round and round
Does it make sense
anymore?

Fear of infected breaths
News of sudden deaths
Every day, every minute
Our surrounding is tense
Yet we drag on..
Nonetheless

I can’t tell you how I feel
I need not tell you how I feel
Because
You know how I feel
When our country men collapse
And our world is in an impasse..

Valentine’s Day special

And

There will come a time when

Cheesy love stories

And lovey dovey quotes

Make you want to throw up

Giving you a familiar chill

Not of passion

But of revulsion

Image courtesy : google

Cravings

The greatest and deepest cravings

Are not for things we never possessed

And people we never knew

They are for our memories

Of those few rare things

And fewer beautiful people

We lost in the long run…

-Sandhya Sadhanand

Blame.

Cool air blows
Tickling my hair
neatly tucked safe and away
behind my poor little ear
The same ear
that just a winter ago
heard the pitfalls of liberation:
being free and flying in the air
was termed unruly
I guess
Unruly and jolly have an uncanny similarity
in more than just the rhyme

.

The wind tickles still
As if teasing me
Tugging me away from this folly
I chose to embrace
Folly, no doubt
Why else would I
Walk into the ocean and refuse to swim
Hating the suffocating waves
Blaming them….
Yet ironically admiring,
The breathtaking beauty of the waves
Like a pouncing lion
That grace!

.

I can’t see anymore
My eyes are blurred
Don’t blame me
I told you
There’s salt water everywhere
On my face and my scars
Searing my eyes
Burning my wounds

.

.

I did it again
Didn’t I?
Blame.
I am still in the same waters
Ain’t I?

Damn.

A death wish!

Snow White, the Albino exhibit of the Big Bang Circus Night.She swirls, she swings, she whorls and she rolls, the flexible and amazing, yet the belittled and defamed white girl, for the evening. Speakers blare and lights blaze as she swings into the only world she’s ever known, the world of ropes and strings. Taunts arise, giggles come out, abuses roll out, nothing knew to her, the shockingly white Acrobat swinging her way across in a dark world. Rotten tomatoes are thrown that she dodges. Mocks and yells are strewn, that she digests.
This 18 year old pattern witnesses an alter, as a drunk brunette shouts “The unlucky witch” and throws her knife at this pale figure swinging midair. A split second as the rope is cut, a gasp as she misses her swing and floats. The end is near and it whispers in her ear, fear for a moment but she closes her eyes and smiles. For now, her only wish shall come true. Not a wish for death, but for colour. A wish that shall colour her in a blood red as she hits the earth. A wish that shall bring her alive in her death!

Idea courtesy :  @aarthi_ss thank you girl!
Image courtesy: google

The break up

We broke up 
Did you know?
Oh please
I am at peace 
I guess
So
Dont be sorry
I am fine
We are fine
We have to let go
Learn to ignore 
Right?
It makes sense
With recent events
Right?
We might reconcile
In a while
Right?
Why won’t you reply?
Oh because..
They sound rhetorical 
My questions?
Sorry
Its just my hysteria talking
A true brat that one
Anyway

,

Are you wondering ?
Why who how?
I know
Everyone does
Star-crossed lovers
Are a thing
Right?

.

Can’t tell you though
You ll judge me
If you see him
Across the street
Always surrounded
By girls and guys
You ll tease me
If I tell you
His everyday plight
Wages every night
Not a toiler
But a darling
His smile
His body

.

.

Oh

I dont want to talk about him
It reminds me 
of his smell
His taste
On my lips

.

.

Dont
Remind
Me
Ok?

I still miss him
With his cute little stall
And merry twinkling eyes
6 for 15
Happiness umpteen
Looking handsome
Even in ugly hands
My guy !

.

.

.

Just a minute
You know who I am talking about
Right?
Not the pani puri guy
Duh!
No
Ofcourse not
My man
Is the golgappa
Himself
!
Anyway
Hes the cuter one
My saviour 
under the sun!
Oh
I meant savory
Yeh,that’s the one

P.s  Dont mind me
Its just the lockdown messing with me and my cravings
Also its just the image messing you with me and my poems

Inspiration of sorts

He sang in my ear

You can’t call it a melody

Twas a perfectly worded tragedy

Perhaps

Perhaps not

…

I ll never know

For he never completed his story

 Of how he strived

A stinker in the slum

Never really seen his mum

Living the life of the declined

Against all acts of mankind

Now soaring high across the sky

Through toxic fumes that make him cry

A story no doubt

Of dire times

Meant to enlighten

Yet 

Doesn’t quite brighten

Me or my spirits

Because 

You see

There’s a mutual hatred

Between him

And me

And now sermons from him

Is a slight

To me and my pride

…

…

…

But

…

Perhaps 

You know him too

He goes

By different names

But mostly

By 

A Mosquito…..

-Sandhya Sadhanand

Trapped…

There’s so many places we would rather be

An island, a beach or just under a tree

Yet here we are 

Trapped in our body 

Or so it feels lately

What happens when we fly

Away and above this world of lies

We ll never know

 Because if we could go

We would have left long ago

Bidding bye bye to the dog-eared books

Lying scattered around 

And the Ganapathy Saraswati Budha idols

With their eeringly calm looks 

As if to assure us of the freedom newfound

Fly fly fly we would

High and high in the sky

Never looking down

Never looking back

Well, atleast as long as the adrenaline lasts

Because when it does

it ll just become a part of our past…

A memory to remember

 Or rather

A dream to linger!

– Sandhya Sadhanand