Reviving my lame past #2: Excerpts from my incomplete, immature, stupid, unedited novel. Written when I was little so DON’T JUDGE, SHEESH.

For me, it was after I had woken up from my slumber to find a woman examining my long, uniquely shaped ear. I noticed her ears were also of the same size. I tried to sit upright, only to find that i was sitting upright and further attempt to do what i was doing may prove unhealthy. I remember wanting to blink, but not feeling the need to. Before i could say a word, the woman quickly filled me in with all the details. She was my mother, i realised, and said hello. She asked me if i wanted something to drink. I said yes, and she took me deep into the forest which was where the vampire society of Kerala lived. Going further, we reached the fringes of human civilisation. My first victim was a 20-year-old woman with extraordinarily blue eyes. Being 19, I had the face of an innocent poor victim of parental abuse and my first victim decided that I would be a nice addition to her household. She asked me to come with her, but I declined and asked for a hug instead. She hugged me tight and I drank her blood. It tasted exquisite. One of my new-born friends describe blood tasting similar to hot chocolate, but I’m not sure if the comparison is valid, as I have not tasted the beverage myself. I felt no regret, no sympathy, not an ounce of guilt. This is what i am, i realized and accepted myself. No, veganism is not an option. Your presumption, dear humans, has always been wrong.


With a heavy sigh, she  said hi again and asked me where i was from.

“Down South,” i replied.

“Kerala.”, i added after a moment of contemplation.

“What are you doing here?”, asked the beauty, giving me a once over.

“I’m taking a vacation. I just finished all my training.” I told her the truth.

“What’s your result?”, she enquired, her voice soft yet demanding.

“Haven’t been announced yet. Next year probably.”  I replied

“You’re lying.”

Now, I don’t lie. It’s against my moral principles to hide the truth. But in this case, the blue eyed princess was absolutely right.

I had got my result.

I’d always read that it was trying,  not winning that mattered. So i gathered all my courage up and told her the blunt truth.

“I am.”


“I am lying.”

“I know that, bloodsucker. What’s your result?”

Forcing myself to ignore the insult i answered her question.




“So you failed!” she cried.

I kept mum. It is trying that matters, i said to myself. Moreover, twelve is a mark!

“Guess what, sucker?”

“What?”, i asked meekly, reeling from the shock of being called a bloodsucker twice.

“I failed too!”, she crooned, and seizing my hand began to run in circles, occasionally jumping high.


To mummy, who thinks I’m a dummy :) 

My mother tells me,
“To be a writer, you gotta learn to talk more
Go out more
Interact more
Experience more”

Little does she know of the words buried under silence
Of the poems hidden in loneliness
Of the thousand different experiences I can go through
Between the walls of my bedroom

I may have shut the world from my eyes
But I have universes under my skin
And they’re enough, 
They’re enough for me. 

Here lies my heart again
Stripped off every mask I’d glued to her
Opening up herself
Letting her emotions sink in blood
Only to bounce back, unchanged
This flood has left me floating on the carcasses of what we were

Here lies my heart again
Treading the paths of my love again and again and again

She is sick
Of opening herself too wide
She is sick
Of carrying hurt in her veins
She is sick
Of being asked to move on

Can’t you see
She is crippled with love
She cannot move on.

Reviving my lame past #1: When 15yr old me Googled more shit than she should’ve, she produced this MASTERPIECE. I’m not even gonna edit it. Enjoy. 

Abeecee: Your highness, could thy humble subject make a declaration?

Queen: Most certainly,Abeecee! What is the nature of thy declaration?

Abeecee: ‘Tis a declaration of love, my lady.

Queen: Whaa-

Abeecee: cough cough.ahem.

Milady, milady, thou art my malady,

Thou also art the cure to my malady.

I seek no branch of science with you,

I ask not for thee to implant a brain.

All i do ask milady,

Is will thou marry this baldy?

Queen: Sir, what splendid poetry thou writes! I must get away before I blush myself to death! I will be back anon with an answer, sir. Most loyal helps, come hither. Let us retreat to the garden for a moment.

(In the garden)

Queen: Good men, wilt ye assist me?

Servant 1: Aye my lady, aye.

Queen: Make haste, then! What shall I do? The lad loves me!

Servant 2: Indeed he does, my lady.

Queen: But what shall i do?

Stranger2: Methinks, the situation calls for a recital of thy misfortunes .

Stranger 1: Aye, my lady. Methinks so too.

Queen: My misfortunes! What say thee, sirrah! Whenceis thy common sense?

Servant2: I know not, my lady.

Queen: Oh, what shall i do? Wilt someone bid the minister?

Minister: My lady?

Queen: Pray tell me what i am to do, minister. Else i shall die of heartbreak.

Minister: What plagues her highness, Servent3?

Servant3: A man sir. A man hath asked for her highness’s hand sir.

Stranger2: He knew her highness’s weakness for hideous poems, sir.

Stranger0: And now her highness knows not what to do.

Minister: Indeed!? That is most unfortunate. But my lady, i do see a– my lady?

Servant1: Her highness hath kicked the bucket sir!

Minister: What!?

Servant 1: Her highness is engaged in a meeting with her maker sir.

Minister: What?!

Servant 3: Sir, her highness hath fallen prey to heartbreak.

Minister: What?!

Servant1: Methinks ye must kick the bucket too, sir.

Minister: Sigh. She was a beauteous creature.  Her genteel heart was much too genteel, eh?

Stranger1: Aye sir, much too frail to survive among the fittest.

Minister: Aye aye. Cover her epidermis and dissect her.

Servant0: Sir, ought we not dissect her first?

Minister: Do what thou wilt. What does it matter? The world hath lost a gem. Good day, good men.

Servant0,1,2,3: Good day Sir.

omnipresent perspectives. 
cold, boring- not really interested in people
ceremonial debates reported
filtered evolution,
constant code for survival, for better or for worse
behind closed walls
burning grey matter.

raise an alarm.
We are changing so much.
always connected.
yet so far.

Silence creeps upon me
It’s cold fingers reach for my throat
At the slightest release I mumble
Incoherent words gape at the audience
They gape back, amused now

With every bark of laughter
The fingers grip me harder
Don’t struggle, it seemed to say
I accepted its advice
Accepted the silence. the shame. the slow death. 

I am staring at blank pages
pen in hand, stuffed with my own blood because i couldnt find enough red ink
the ink bottle is empty like what’s between you and me


i’m digging my heart for words
all the thesauruses i’d swallowed was for nothing
you took my language when you left


is stifling.

my phone screen is bursting from expectation
but like always
there’s emptiness
and i fall back into the familiar cycle of self-hate.