The Mundane Artist

In the 21st century, I don't think that human rights should be a question. It is an everyday living phenomena. We say we have progressed immensely as compared to the prior generations. But, have we? Have we really, when brutality is at its rise, children are dying, women are raped, and there is no sign of justice? A year or two ago, I came across 'Female Genital Mutilation. ' And I was shocked to see such a violation of human rights for girls. So read on! I insist. However you may perceive this piece of writing, nothing, and I mean NOTHING should stop you from being aware of this brutal practise, which I am ashamed and afraid to say that it EXISTS. Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) is nothing but removing of external female genitals, or injury to female genital organs for purposes that are NOT medical. It is as gruesome as it sounds, maybe more. It is, as mentioned above, a clear violation of human rights of girls and women. It is carried out on girls between infancy a...

gaze greets the stars trying to grasp hold  did i pull away hastily?  i choke at your name i search for you in this colossal  a ship without a compass i was the storm the color to my rainbow oh! what have i done?  don't do this! i'm a tragedy you're beautiful sail away! sail away!  won't you listen to your amoreux? a beautiful tragedy, then?  adieu love a beautiful tragedy is all i'll ever be a beautiful tragedy is all i'll ever be

"I'll take you to a therapist," said his friend. "I don't need a damn therapist!" he screamed.  "Dude you haven't been out in a month. It's eating you, don't you see?"  "Get out," he said.  "I'm taking you to a therapist tomorrow. Be ready at 4," his friend said before walking out of the door.  "Whatever," he whispered to himself.  ~~~~~ "What the hell man?" screamed a groggy voice.  "Wake up!" his friend shook him, and pulled his blanket off.  "Are you insane? What time is it?" he asked, and grabbed his phone to check the time. "It's 4 in the bloody morning. Are you crazy? Get the hell out of my house, and let me sleep," he shouted.  "Shh, do you want to wake your parents up? I know it's bloody 4 in the morning. I got a C in math, but I can very well read time."  "Oh that's great. So now kind...

There's a concept on loving oneself. Now I am not a philosopher, neither have I reached peak wisdom. But this is something to just ponder upon. There are so many people in this world that will pin adjectives to you, positive or negative. Someone will say that you're good-looking, whereas another will say that you're a bit fat for that dress. We have been taught to embrace the positive, and eliminate the negatives, which is a great way to be content with oneself.  We all love to be showered with compliments. And why shouldn't we? We should also compliment others. It's a great way to spread optimism. Give and take, give and take.  But there comes a time, where we start to depend on these compliments, or something negative to happen to uplift ourselves, uplift our spirits. My question is: Why? Why do we wait for compliments to feel good? Why do we wait for something bad to happen to us so we can tell ourselves,"You're amazing!"?  These ad...

"Whoever the homeland may belong to, it is not merely a piece of geography. It is also not just history. Nor is it the rivers of the region, or the mountains. It is all those things that keep getting absorbed in your very being whether you want it or not. It constantly nurtures your mind, heart and soul. Keeps it alive ... It is our land that gives us a vision. Gives us strength to see our country and see beyond it. To connect with our place and times." - Krishna Sobti, Author of Daar Se Bichudi (English translation: Memory's Daughter) 

"What? Are you serious? But I really have to get to school! Argh, fine." Harleen sighed. She locked her door, and stomped, rather than walked downstairs. She was so angry. Her driver ditched her at the last moment. She would've been very understanding if only this last moment of cancellation hadn't occurred before. She started her journey from her house towards school. The school was closed for the winter, but a few diligent teachers wanted to take some tests, classes and get students to submit their due assignments. But Harleen was a smart kid. She wasn't going to school for any of that. After all, she studied well, and her assignments were submitted on or before the due dates. She was going to school for her applications to be filled by the teachers for college. College. Graduation. She detested these two words. And these two words had been revolving around her from the past few months, and future few too, it seemed. This added to the apathetic behaviour of...