Do Me A Favour


Do me a favour, leave me alone a while,

I just need to clear my head, it’s been a long time.

Your voice is becoming the voice inside my head,

And the very sound of your whisper, I dread.


Your words are soft knives, their implications hard,

These implications holding me off guard.

I need you to leave me alone, even if just for a while,

Because your words are slowly erasing my smile.


I can shout at you, but not at your voice inside my head,

That sound of your whisper that I have come to dread.

Your voice like a broken record, echoing everything you said,

Again and again and again and again inside my head.


I hold my head and scream and not a sound is heard,

Nothing at all, not a single word.

And slowly the noise that emanates from my inside,

Is not even mine, as I cried.


You have gotten to me at last, all those years that you have tried,

And here I am, your voice inside.

I despise you and everything you have to say,

And now I can’t even get away.







Day 6- Poetry Challenge

Day 6- Write a poem of any length incorporating every word from your latest Facebook status.

Sorry, I have been MIA for the last couple of days. Sunday, Vinod and me spent the entire day out of the house leaving no time for poetry writing. I have absolutely no excuses for the rest of the days (this is just who I am).

As for today’s challenge, do you even honestly remember the last time you posted a status update on Facebook?! Who does that any more? 

So scrolling back, for what seemed like an eternity, I found my last status update! 


If you’re wondering who Stuart is, he was my first pet and the first animal I have ever loved. He passed away a few months back and I miss him most of the time. 



Stuart Little

You fit into the palm of my hand, but held a much larger space in my heart, 

For a little hamster, we felt you were so very smart. 

Smuggling all of the food you could find into your treasure trove of yums, 

Stuffing your face- how chubby your cheek becomes! 

I watched ‘Fantastic Beasts and where to find them’ not so long ago, 

And all I could think of was you, putting on quite the show, 

Like Newt Scamander and his little niffler who loves all things shiny, 

Are you and me. It feels like just yesterday you were in my hands- so tiny. 

And how you survived that long weary journey from Manipal to Bangalore

On the bus in your cage, biting your way through the bag until it finally tore, 

And the sense of relief once were released, free to roam, 

You made our first new house a home. 

Day 4- Poetry Challenge

Day 4- Write a haiku. They’re often about nature, but yours can be about anything

So, a Haiku is a Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world.



Bangalore Summers 



Heat piercing through the skin,

Days are long and nights are short,

When will the summer end?

Bangalore summers make me smile

Because deep inside I know something well

Once summer goes, rains come.

Day 3- Poetry Challenge

Day 3- Find the nearest book (of any kind). Turn to page 8. Use the first ten full words on the page in a poem. You may use them in any order, anywhere in the poem.

If I was lesser than a foot away from where I am typing, I would have been closer to Vinod’s current favourite “book”- a large and rather inscrutable Bible of sorts for Dental Implants- the third edition of Contemporary Implant Dentistry by Carl E Misch. And just out of curiosity, if you’re wondering what the first ten full words on Page 8 are (I know I was curious), they are ‘Partial, Edentulism, Prevalance, interest, growing, number, implants, patients, survey, United States’. I think I dodged a bullet there, to be honest. 

But just as luck would have it, the book nearest to me is a novel I am currently reading called The Interpretation of Murder by Jed Rubenfeld.


Turning to Page 8


And here are the words that will soon mould the poem coming your way!


So, the words are *drumroll please*

  • Competition
  • Domination
  • Lust
  • Height
  • Size
  • Money
  • Balmoral
  • Boulevard
  • New Yorkers
  • Time

A Murder in the Balmoral Hotel 

The sirens speeding their way past the silent boulevards, piercing the hush of the nights,

As the car halts to a stop in front of the prestigious Balmoral Hotel at its heights;

 The homeless, the drunk, the insomniacs, all stopped in their tracks,

As a man scurries past to escape, blending in with the assembled crowd, all dressed in blacks.

New York is the city that never sleeps, New Yorkers are then the night owls,

Yet detectives took quite a while to get to the scene,

The picture that awaited them wasn’t pretty at all, the body of the young woman Lucille Parks,

In a room on floor eighteen,

Her usually sparkling eyes dulled by lifelessness and a slit across her throat,

Lay a former beauty queen.

And Mr Parks, who scurried the scene, quick and dressed in black,

Now called for a taxi to quickly leave, with eyes over his back,

A sizeable sharpened knife in his briefcase with her drying blood it was lined,

He thought about what he had done, the biggest mistake of his life, he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Several labelled Lucille a gold-digger, many others said greying Mr Parks was driven by lust,

For money and power and eliminating the competition on Lucille’s end, I trust,

But it was a known truth that their marriage was merely a spectacle of desire,

And for Mr Parks, an act of domination to acquire all that he did admire.

For time immemorial, the first suspect is always the spouse,

The police rang up Mr Parks who was fast asleep in his house,

Woken by the ringing phone, to find the police on the other line,

Confirmed that his wife was in New York staying in the Balmoral for business for a short time.

And in the meantime, on a floor above,

Mrs Lucia Parks stirred a little in her sleep,

Laying next to her lover, in the Balmoral hotel

In her room on floor nineteen.

Day 2- Poetry Challenge 

Day 2- Who was the last person you texted? Write a five line poem to that person

The last person I texted was my husband, Vinod. So, this actually happens to be the first time I am writing a poem for him! What I would like to say to him would be incredibly difficult to put into 5 lines, but this is exactly what makes it a challenge! 

In five months time, we complete 3 years of knowing each other. With every passing year, as I get to know him better, the more love and respect I have in my heart for him. 

I am a very private person, I like being in my zone, and it is something about me I’ve always known.

But waking up every morning to your face, I realise you are my space.

I never believed in fantasies and fairytales, or dreams coming true, 

But my wildest fantasy, my Prince Charming and my dreams

Are all trivial when compared to you. 

Love you my Vinoda. 

DAY 1- Poetry Challenge

Day 1- Write a poem where each line starts with a letter from your first name (an acrostic). It can be about anything, but it should not be about you or your name.

(This is honestly a lot harder than I thought it would be. )


No time to leave your tender words unsaid

repeat them to yourself in your head,

Everything you will not say,

has a way of making it out there. 

How can the little insignificant wave, you might say,

possibly misbehave,

And abate the sway of the mighty seas

and brave against the breeze. 


Neither the wave,

nor the seas

Are aware of what I am about to tell you soon,

Millions of little waves,

and the way it behaves 

Brings a high tide under the full moon.

If the sea even tried,

to hold the waves inside,

And hide the waves behind a curtain of lies

and tried to contain its shape

Rushing little waves crash a million times

only to escape. 






The thirsty lands pray for rain,
Farmers go hungry; no water- no grain.
The parched lands beneath dry tanned skins,
The masses, the cattles, the produce thins.

Eyes gazing upwards, in hope, remain,
Their prayers unanswered, all in vain,
Their dried up wells and dried up dreams,
Drought hit it all, it seems.

Our ears ache for the melody of rain,
To put an end to all their pain,
And when the sweet trickling showers do show,
Prayers of gratitude mightily grow.

The melody of rain that all have prayed for,
The once harsh, now clouded sun,
Has sprouted life once more,
One by one, one by one.


Tick- tock. Tick- tock. Tick- tock.
The seconds pass by, my hands cold as slate,
My eyes hurriedly gaze at the wall clock,
Plummeting into the corporate world, I await my fate.

Not unlike an egg laid in the sea,
Plummeting into its depths and how,
Unsure of what the future may be,
This is how I felt at my first interview now.

My letter of appointment and my first day,
Many of my friends who hadn’t made it through;
Suited up, in black and grey,
This was the job for me, I just knew.

Not unlike a tadpole green,
Flapping its tail, swimming the mighty big sea,
Learning to grow, in surroundings hostile and mean,
The young tadpole isn’t that different from me.

The job goes on, paralleled by none,
Learning as I fall and standing back up when I do,
The metamorphosis from a student to a professional, step at a time, one by one,
I realized how much I grew.

Not unlike the tadpole growing gradually
Transforming each and every day,
I barely even recognized the new me,
How I had grown in every way.

And the day I realized the sea isn’t all there is for me,
An amphibian I was, a family I have to grow,
The day I started my family,
Is the happiest day I came to know.

Not unlike the frog, afraid of sand,
The frog, who is all grown up now,
Leaping out onto land,
The world outside continued to amaze and how.

His journey between land and sea

And my journey between work and family.

But now has come the day,
My metamorphosis is complete,
The frog was no longer allowed to laugh and play,
For, all of his duties, he had continued to meet.

He’s far too old to swim in the sea,
And I’m too old for the corporate life
His story ends just like me,
(Gribbit- Gribbit)- with his wife.

True Colours

Think back, think back, as far as you can,

It’s always been a man for a woman and a woman for a man.

But there are some who do wish to break free,

Some people not so different from you and me.


Restrained by all, held behind a closet locked,

People judging all they do, the way they talked and walked.

And even if they did try to break free,

Chained they were, by society.


Women are women, regardless of sex,

Men are men in most respects,

You can be both or a mix of the two,

You can be neither if that’s what suits you.


People are people whatever their parts,

But what really matters is what’s inside their hearts,

So, break free, wash out that black and white they’ve painted onto you,

And let your true colours shine through.