The Mundane Artist

I don't know much about the universe. It's like someone who lives in my neighbourhood who I know exists but feels so foreign to me. I know that only 4 percent of the universe has been discovered so far. There is so much out there and so much that may just be a figment of our imagination.  I don't know much about the universe. But when I closed my eyes and went into a deep sleep, I was transferred into something that felt like the universe. It had a dark highlight to it that engulfed everything but it also had these twinkling somethings and colourful twirls that distanced themselves from each other so symmetrically and yet, so randomly.  I don't know much about the universe. But I know that it was a pathway built prior to my entrance into this world towards you. I tried to make sense of it but I couldn't and I just went along with it, like I was floating. It wasn't just my body that was floating but also my mind. It was in a daze; a daze that felt like love but i...

Warmth.   That's what I feel right now.  I am sitting in my balcony, in my comfortable white chair. There's a cup of peppermint tea on the table. And I stare into the scenery.  The sky resembles the ocean today. The sky's colour makes it look like a poem about philosophy. The birds are swimming and returning to their abodes. There's an occasional aeroplane floating through the sky, on its way to its destination. The rumble of its engine, when it moves through the clouds, makes it feel like the clouds are producing this sound. The naked eye cannot see the litter. You'll have to dig deep within the sky to know what litters it. As I said, the sky resembles the ocean today.  A warm breeze passes by, and I take it as an indication to change my observation.  I always wonder, which is the perfect brown to fill the mountains on my canvas? Do I want it to be a deep brown or a light brown or another brown? But, will the mountains like it, if I choose to fill it with a c...

According to Britannica, poetry is defined as "literature that evokes a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience or a specific emotional response through language chosen and arranged for its meaning, sound, and rhythm" (Nemerov, 2020). The above is a formal definition, perhaps for the purpose of academia. It may not be important if at all.  To me, poetry has been everything that I have wanted it to be. I have defined poetry for myself and that is the beauty of poetry. It lets you define it. It gives you itself wholly and unapologetically.  Poetry is my life. It has given me so much. It has helped me.  I am writing this because it is officially National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) but also because this is something I felt like writing about. I feel like I owe poetry this much for all it has done for me.  Poetry has helped me through dire times. It didn't matter how subjective or objective the time that I was going through was. If it w...

You.  A year ago, you were on your bed, hardly speaking or moving. But still, you remembered us, some you called the diamonds of your eyes.  A year before that, you were on your feet greeting us with the tender kisses that was your trademark on meeting us. You wobbled through the house doing all the chores that you loved doing, that made you feel alive and well.  You.  You, in your blouse and petticoat (the blouse of myriad colours but your petticoat white, always), going about the house feeding the other human being in your house.  You, in your blouse and petticoat, sitting in front of the television watching the news or "travel TV" as you liked to call it, showering us with wonder of the places you'd visited through the television.  You.  You, in the kitchen, cooking my favourite dal with peanuts in it, or screaming from there to ask me, "Hiranshi, inda banavi aapu?" ("Hiranshi, should I cook you some eggs?")  You,...

"How is it?" I asked her as she tasted the dal khichadi I made. I was never much of a cook. But all those hours that I spent binge-watching food videos was inspiration enough for me to try. One moment I was just watching, and the next moment I was hell-bent on wanting to try out at least one of the dishes.  I decided to make dal khichadi because it is my comfort food. There's no beating it. Maybe mac and cheese and fries do come in between my commitment to it, but most of the time, on bad days due to whatever reason, it is my saviour dal khichadi that comes. "It's pretty good. Not bad for a first time," she said. I squealed in excitement. She looked at me and smiled. "What are you smiling at?" I asked. "Nothing. Just happy to see you excited for a new hobby! I can see you take this the long way," she said. I walked back to the kitchen. I put the plate down and breathed for a moment or two. Things have been difficult. We...

At this point, I did not know what was happening. I had come out with him ? I mean there's nothing wrong with him but I have never hung out with him. How did this happen?  I entered the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror and just stood there. The only thing that was missing was a cigarette so I could spend at least 5 whole minutes doing something because this was weird to me.  He looked dazed and I felt the alcohol hitting already. The only weird thing was that we had just arrived and the first thing, before even going to our table, that I did was hit the bathroom because of how spontaneous this plan was. So, yeah. I had no alcohol in my body but I still felt... inebriated? And not the good kind. The confused kind.  After spending 5 minutes, I let out a sigh and decided to just go ahead and let the night take me wherever it goes.  "Sorry. Have you been waiting out here for a while? Did we not get a table?" I asked him.  The restaurant wa...

We decided to meet at the beach. He was a few minutes late so I thought to set everything up. I called out to the sea. No reply. I was baffled. It usually answers my first call. I called to it again. No response. I was just about to call out again. But this time I was responded to. A sprinkle of water on my face. And I smiled. I asked it to rise by saying that one magical word: rise. That simple, isn't it? Communication. It is so important to communicate in any relationship. My relationship with water, therefore, was... simple. I call out to it in the easiest manner possible. And it shows. I walked closer to the water. I was rather slow to walk because I was zoned out thinking about what this majestic body would show me today. I reached the edge of the shore; where the water teases you but doesn't touch you. Finally, I had reached my destination. I took another step like the men on the moon. Lo and behold! The sea parted for me. It doesn't say much. But ...