While my hometown has its flaws and has taught me the importance of speaking up, it has also reinforced the value of self-respect. Those who voice their concerns and establish boundaries are not insecure rather they are so sure of what they deserve. There’s no room for half-hearted actions or repeated disrespect. True self-love involves setting clear standards and protecting one’s well-being and not being taken for granted.

While I try to keep up with this I always revisit YT and listen to Zakir saying ghar na jagah hai na log hain ghar bas ek yadash hai!

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Remembering where you come from is vital and one should never forget that. Despite my college dreams of big cities, I find myself falling in love with my small town all over again. Here, even a modest 10- rupee note can bring satisfaction while enjoying pani-puri (:

Everyone needs a place or person where they can freely express their emotions—whether ranting, crying, smiling, or laughing—without judgment. I’m fortunate to have both but my small room at home has always been a safe house for both me and my friends, iykyk.

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Staying in my hometown for a month straight after such a long time has been a profoundly grounding experience. This place reconnects me to my roots in a way no other place can.

There’s a unique comfort in enjoying familiar meals without needing to explain my preferences. While being asked is nice, there’s something deeply nostalgic about enjoying the dishes I grew up with, even if they’re not my absolute favorites.

Mom’s calls after her classes or during breaks, 1-2 times a day just to check on me, are a cherished part of my life here. When I’m in Bangalore, she doesn’t call as often, not wanting to disrupt my routine and that I understand!

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..with slow strolls and early mornings
cups of tea and space for interpretation
take it all slow, because,
she's a wildflower on the green carpet, a natural beauty
no matter how hard she tries to hide, she'll stand out!

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I am the first of my kind
normal and insane
hippie and hipster
secular and spiritual
saltwater and ashes
art and science
head and heart
I am the earth and air
turning fire and sky
Kiss me till I feel real
because
I have walked the line between worlds:
a women of the darker season.
An introverted extrovert.

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Nothing here has changed with time
I am still unapologetically myself
Regardless, I always make time for those who handle me with care
I have worn them like organza, even in cold
We may be falling out of touch with time
but let me remind you, Lilith dances to the beats of afro alone
and her worth isn't defined by attention.

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see, I have a bad habit of turning things into art.
I can turn your love story into poetry,
but with time I discovered darkness, sadness, rush, grief, lust, disappointment and what not.
I needed to spice up my art but you and your story gave it all.
You introduced me to a different world- It was twisted, cruel and heartless. There was surely some compassion but it came with a price.

Now, I am not sure if I'll ever perceive love has a pure form and accept that less is more and love is enough.

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Instead of all the erroneous congregations, the choice of being a recluse is worthy.

If you desire to win me over, the existence of your wordly soul has to dominate my state of solitude. Wonder why?

Because love,
you are competing with my comfort zone
which in succession to many ethereal things
ceases to exist.

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Like a persisting theme in some satanic symphony
the choking darkness had returned.
No light. No air. No smile. No exit.
Even erudition seem to be an enemy in the crushing space around us.
We try to drive our thoughts in other directions, we keep up with art or music but all in vain.
We can't move! (sometimes can't even breathe)

Oddly, we just wish to create a crack for some air regardless of the abundance.

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Collect your thoughts
Amidst the mess and
you might find
the most beautiful
and erratic experience
of finding hope.
Like it's raining
with moon light
on a dark barren land
And I
don't mind getting
drenched,
my love!

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