Monday, May 2, 2016

Space Ballerinas

Oh Darling!
let us be space ballerinas

dancing our way through the space-time continuum
bending space time
creating love holes
manipulating gravity and light
let us consume ourselves
with love
let us emit love rays on all spectrums
let us put out the sun with our brilliance
if only for one millionth of a nano second.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Dragon Poo Poesy

At the back of my mind
where it stinks a little of dragon poo
and battle memories against You-Know-Who
along with the discarded armors I have worn over the years
and battle scars I received from facing my fears
There’s a firm little hope
planted on the ground
which I pat only when no one’s around

The hope that
even though change is a bother
may we grow together.

Friday, April 8, 2016

The Dragon Charmer

Act 1: Kalpana breaks the space time continuum

Kalpana sits on the bed browsing through the dragon section of Reddit. She growls at times when she reads something she doesn’t like. The offenders are put in place with some swift keystrokes.

Kalpana is a girl of strong opinions. And her opinions are generally regarding dragons. In the dragon subreddit, she is generally known as the Dragon Queen in sharp contrast to her account name fluffykitty249.

While she surfed through the thread, she saw a two minutes old post. It read “Dragons are so obsolete, it’s all zombies and Godzilla now. Lol.”

Kalpana felt a red flush spreading up her neck to her face. Her eyes bulged, her breathing quickened. A thousand curses ran through her brain. A million! A billion! A trillion!

The thoughts raced through her head so fast, the electrical impulses in the brain began moving beyond the speed of light.

Kalpana felt the air around her start to vibrate and crackle. Suddenly the very fabric of time and space ripped apart around her and sucked her in.

Act 2: Kalpana becomes the witch of Fort Guinevere

Kalpana woke up face down on mud. She felt like she had just banged her head against the space-time wall. The wall broke. She wearily stood up and looked around. A large wooden wall stood before her and a deep moat behind her utterly confused, she walked around the wall, hoping to find a door.

She finally found a huge wooden door. As she approached it, an arrow thudded on the ground before her foot. She leaped back exclaiming “Holy mother of dragons!”

A voice cried out from the top, “Who the hell are you, woman?” After a pause, it added “And what are you wearing?”

She stared at the top the wall for a bit. Slowly, she realized her predicament. She didn’t know where she was! What if she was stuck here forever? Without a change of T-shirt and jeans?

“I am Kaplana” she shouted back. “From Nepal”

“Where’s that?”

“Between India and China.”

The person yelped and shouted for the captain. The captain, a fat man in a steel armor clearly too small for him peered over the wall. “Let her in” he gruffed. “We will need all the witches we can get.”

The gate opened a little for her to get in. “Welcome to Fort Guinevere” the guard said. “I hope you brought spells for dragons.”

**This is the start of my new series in collaboration with @frankentigger. We wrote this for the Flash Fiction Dragon challenge at Terrible Minds.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Dream journal excerpt OR that in which I call @iisuperwomanii baeeee

2:57 am: Dreamt that @iisuperwomanii aka Lily Singh was interviewing me. She asked me, really interested-ly, “What is that you do?” and I answered it and made this joke-reference at the last (which I can’t seem to remember no matter how hard I try, and I am trying) and she laughed. I am so happy currently because she laughed. I made her laugh. I caused that laugh. I made her happy, even if only for a millisecond or so. (Because I have this theory that there’s an inner For-laughs monster, which gets tickled for seconds or a millionth of a second(perspective and sense of humor <and also a million other thingsies> play their corresponding roles here)and it is kind of like the stars already being dead when their light reaches the Earth. I mean, when you start showing signs of laughing physically, that joke has long been devoured (maybe this is why we stop laughing abruptly at times or why we forget the joke) by For-laughs. For-laughs monster is all your gloom and depression moster-ified. He ( or she, mine is a he) literally lives “for laughs” (Imagine a world where we are named after our passions. My name probably would be For do-not-know-exactly-what-yet. What would yours be? <you could comment.> (Oh me Gaud moment when I actually try to interact with my audience) )
@iisuperwomanii, you are baeeee, because you have won over depression in the quest of finding you (Yes, I outpour clichéd stuff, which always sounds so awesome in my thoughts but comes out as mush) I am currently in that angst phase of my life, where I do not know exactly what I want to do, but I have a few vague ideas. I constantly worry about it. A very tragic combination for my happiness. (and for For-laughs)

…The point here is, that I am goddamn happy because you interviewed me.(who cares that it was in a dream? Scoot over, stupid minor unimportant reality detail) I did not ruin that moment with my innate awkwardness/klutziness/whatever. Plus I made you laugh. (creepier rephrase: I helped you feed your For-laughs.)
P.S. You always inspire people to chase happiness because as you say, it is the only thing that matters. But what of the abyss that is on the path of chase? (plus I am such a klutz) What of the terror that clutches at your heart whenever you even try to look at that (metaphorical) path? What of the overall sense of doom that roots you in your spot(which is under the billboard named Depression) and you feel like you can’t move an inch, let alone go towards that/those path(s).

P.P.S. I can’t believe I ended up crying at the end of this writ. This was supposed to be Goddamn happy. 

Sunday, January 24, 2016

That time when I wrote an article-thingy over a tweet OR what I would actually say instead of ‘Oh Well!’

Disclaimer <or more like why you shouldn’t read this> 1 : Most of this is pure rant. Because I can’t contain myself stuff. You do not need this kind of opinionated negativity in your life. Please stop.
Disclaimer 2 <or more like why you shouldn’t read this> : I can’t stop writing this, even though I’m telling myself that this isn’t going to do any good in the world. And I generally am able to prevent myself from penning more negativity stuff.<since there’s already oodles of it in the <non-fiction> world>
Disclaimer 3<or more like why you shouldn’t read this>  : I am that girl who simply can’t let things (and/or people and/or experiences, for that matter) go. I am that girl who still gets embarrassed by the fact that she once laughed so hard in Class 6 at school, that she had snot flying through her nose, in front of the whole class. It is like: letting go is a  piece of art in a part of town I can’t ever seem to reach, let alone see that art and then contemplate. Letting go is a concept so alien to my fantasy-addled brain, maybe because you don’t ever have to let go in the fictional world. Sure, characters die, but there’s always imagination and fan-fic and what not.
See how fiction warps my words so.
This is why, I can’t let that tweet go. <the tweet in reference being :  Non fiction हरु पढ्न थालेपछि यस्ता कथा, कपिता, उपन्यास ठग्न लेखिएका हुन् झैँ लाग्ने के ! -@ sandesh__ > Sorry if I may sound rude and prejudiced but how much of fiction are you familiar with, sir? C.S. Lewis? Diana Wynne Jones? Sir Terry Pratchett? Brandon Sanderson? Neil Gaiman? Lev Grossman? Patrick Rothfuss? Tolkien? Jonathan Stroud? Zappia? Madeleine L'Engle? Roald Dahl?
<so not trying to show my literary prowess or anything even remotely as such here but I just had to ask that.  Also, I refrained from writing the plains-of-imagination and stuff. >
And this is just a part among the parts of fantasy in fiction that I’ve managed to read <and not explode, but sometimes I do explode. Yes, I’m very prone to explosions, as you may have deduced from this writing itself>in my life. How can you even imagine saying such a - <I know “it is a free world”. I am not to be stopped by logic. <even though the previous bracket originated due to my train of thought being ambushed by logic> I’d already warned you in the Disclaimer 1 about not reading this, as a whole >
I know, everyone s allowed to have opinions. And twitter is for venting. And if we did not vent things like these and just went “Oh well!” instead, there would be a cacophony of “Oh Well!”s in the world.
Every time I read that tweet, I want to utter a battle cry <the battle cry in reference being “WHATEVER!” > , don my armors <all fantasy metals and there’s this once made up of vacuum so that all your bullets will not even brush me, since no medium, HAH! And to prevent the laser or any other light rays, there’s this armor made up of fluid, which no one knows anything about, because I made it, double HAH! > and battle with you <in all multiverses>  till death do us apart. Let me remind you, I have legions of dragons. And we are not stopped as easily as my train of thought.
How can you judge an entire genre without even knowing <perhaps> a small part of it? And if you have read fiction, how could you? I’m not comparing non-fiction to fiction here. Why would you even compare two genres?
Now, I’m just terribly sad because even people who read <like you> compare genres.

P.S. This makes no sense, I know. 

Thursday, January 21, 2016


My happy is a little rusted around the edges.
My belief that I can ever be happy still needs a lot more believing.
But how it feels when it fills my being
This wild
This loving
This giggling happiness.

Friday, July 31, 2015

The verb ‘miss’ OR Wired weird

I do not take the verb ‘miss’ lightly. Believe me, when I text you, “Missing you”, I seriously am missing you, like my atoms and the intramolecular space between the molecules made up of those atoms are filled with thoughts of you. I am that deep. (Double ha with a hyphen in between)

I miss people much too soon, way too often and often like a blind person groping for eyes to see the world with. The blind person, if he finds those eyes which fit in his sockets without any medical technicalities involved, could have basically two alternate worlds in his newly acquired sight. One of those worlds would be what he’d be viewing if he had rose coloured spectacles. By the term ‘rose coloured spectacles’ I mean a rosy view on life. Which is definitely not : the word ‘life’ floating on air with a rose hovering atop it. (But wouldn’t it be cool if words existed like that? But then: UH-OH, laws of gravity.)  Rather an optimistic view on life. A world where there would be rainbows after every rainfall. Where strangers genuinely smiled back at you if you smiled at them. And where people missed you back with the same(or slightly lesser) intensity as you missed them. And you’d feel rewarded with love for thoughts of missing them so much. And they cared about your thoughts in return. 

But the blind person with the magical eye sockets could also faced with the possibility of facing another world. A more grimy view of the world (though this grimy view is not due to the grime on the surface of the eyeballs he’d just found after a lot of frantic groping). A world where rainbows are only created if the sunlight disperses through prisms made up of invisible water droplets hanging in the air blanketed from the ordinary eye by humidity. Where strangers give you odd looks and sometimes even stare at you suspiciously if you gave them a smile or two. And where people simply assume you to be over clingy if you texted them ‘I miss you’ and created a rhyme for them about how much you miss them. 

So the results of my thought experiment have led to this : that I am better off not missing people much. (I have now written a sentence containing this and that separated by a colon.) Do move on to the next paragraph and let me demonstrate to you the inner workings of my logically illogical mind. 

People usually start missing something/someone/someplace after the thing/person/place is in the past. After it has occurred. Usually. But me, I am wired to miss things as they are happening. Wired weird, right? (Weird and wired are anagrams. Cool right?) 

For instance, I started missing the university I studied in (2010-2014) during my third semester.(We had a total of 8 semesters.) I begin to miss good times as they are happening. 

I think that is good because I kind of enjoy moments more. “Hey, these are my memorable moments.” I smile wider, laugh more maniacally and feel more happiness coursing through me. Somehow, I appreciate now more. Me missing the present as it unfolds makes the present somehow more precious. Somehow more richer. 

(Let me leave you on this optimistic note. Though the blind man with magical sockets might or might not look upon our dreary world (where scientific phenomenon such as dispersion is responsible for rainbows and not unicorn farts), it is good to have a kindling of hope in our hearts that he might see the other world. As me myself have done with kindred spirits.)