A humming word

Note: For a childhood friend, diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Dear sister, I have seen you weep for long You let the salty tears wet your soul Does vulnerability make you whole ? There's a tremor in my heart, every time you wail. When your soul is famished My heart turns pale I don’t know how you do it, Sister? Every time you’re hurt, You open the windows; inviting the dusty bad along with the breezy good Have you no fear of being misunderstood? Being strong is now a euphemism for Mincing your emotions in a grinder of time But Sister, you sing when you’re joyous Laugh, when you are boisterous You cry and live You mourn and give Your cheeks are drenched with your tears But in your heart, reside no fears Sister, i am afraid too But when i am in the crowd I mask it well I dont want be apart from the crew But Everyone is fearful of the same The same mask. A different name.

Do you remember those maps we bought at the stationary shop? Those flimsy sheets of paper that sold maps, political, apolitical For five marks, we would mark the bumps and ridges and the slimy waterbodies Do you remember the year when we did not know what north-west or north-east meant And a half-mark was cut Now, they are sold in three-dimensions and five-dimensions Our maps are marked by Caste-marks and headgear But we know the slimy measurements Are measured by what we wear

While we focus on what we love, we need to remind ourselves to build ourselves and grow healthy from within too. Have been speaking to writers and content creators who have interesting insights how they moved to healthier habits to improve their writing! In the words of an anonymous young author, "I consumed a lot of chocolates to be able to write better. It became an addiction. I put on a lot of weight and slowly i realised I must not consume all that chocolate and focused on walking, exercising which releases serotonin and am still able to write." Erstwhile, the writers consumed unnecessarily to increase their dopamine level but they are now focusing on increasing their serotonin level through physical activities, exercise. And i know many writers and artists who are into healthy habits to live longer to be able to write longer. And, as an ode to them and to focus on this, renamed my blog to The Cycle Writer.

For none knows the euphoria locked in a single theater ticket counter  The nearest theater was only a kilometer away from my grandmother's house.  But for the emergency of earning tickets, my aunt and me were dropped on the Chetak  And left to haggle for 14 tickets armed with the privileges of our gender  The stuffy line was what movie-goers were made up: ruffian, dreamy, resolute and, we would await, ignoring the stench of inexplicable; we'd not care to guess But we'd know what it was  The line moved slowly  And our heart beat steadily  We shouldered the responsibility of a gorgeous evening in the guise of a movie  And had we not gotten the tickets, our family would be disappointed  How would we entertain fourteen entertainment hungry monsters?  But as we inched closer and closer, there it was the ticket counter and the bespectacled man  At first he would be adamant and  when my aunt would persuade, he would blush and tear 14 ...

I have done this before  Stood at the airport  Or the bus stand or the cab stand  And watched you go  It always meant more to me  I assumed that you’ll never know  How much you mean and always have meant  And i act like it is all okay  Because you are not ready  Or you want only to see me as a friend And despite the mourning lover in me I nod and smile  And await for your flight  Or your bus or your taxi to leave  So that i let myself be hurt  And let the tears flow  Knowing that you’ll never know  But i know you have to go  For a new job or to find a purpose  But if there is a signpost in your road ahead  I yearn that it will bring you back here  And you can watch me  And maybe a change of heart will alter your thought But till then Adieu For i know you must go  And these smoldering emotions  you mustn’t know

Even when she suffers a headache, she puts a balm and smiles though the vapory balm leaves a burning sensation in her eyes She gets up a glass of water for the elderly, tying a bandana on her forehead. The rest are around but appear dead   Posting pictures or writing about a misfortune in another part of the world but close their eyes to the apathy that unfurls.   [Note: She is the "only pronoun" I could think of in such a scenario.  Sometimes, we forget about the silent abuse around.  As Mother Teresa said, If each of us would only sweep our own doorstep,  the whole World would be clean] Pic: vignesh

If: There's room in your heart Some space in your day Let them in   If: There's a chance to forgive And a blessing to forego spend it on him, excessively If: There's a chore that can slip And task that isn't worth it Let it go   If: There's a choice between your heart and your mind Cross your fingers and choose to be wise and kind Make space for them, him who annoy you or catch your whim