Author: Deeya Nambiar

I believe in taking every day as a learning phase, and exploring my writing skills. I have enjoyed the challenges as a journalist, content writer and college lecturer, and at the moment am living life analysing the extraordinary in the ordinary!

What Say?

The drilling work was in progress;

The sound, unbearable.

Unusual as it may sound,

My mind was drawn

To people from the past;

Rich, famous and the change-makers –

The contributors who shared the walls,

Painting shades to the landscape called History.

Often quoted on occasions,

They breathe through the medium offered

And exist in the seconds of our memory clock.

A drill into their lives happen frequently;

That sounds unbearable!

Dissected time and again

With none to clarify

Their privacy gets auctioned off

And their pains never felt, sincerely.

Wish, the dead ‘rest in peace’.

 

Conquer

Door shut behind.

Ventured out in the dark

Far, further, and further away

Whispers heard no longer

Alone walked miles, and

Fear went away, ashamed.

Scripted

scripted

On a trek, toward a hill top

The rolling stones, haphazard ways and cactus plants

Crossed the path, again and again.

A bald patch of land stood alone

Senses turned triumphant, though;

A vision arrested

From the path that divided, where

The azure sky glittered golden

And the geometrical land patterns held out puzzles below;

The sun rays reached out to both

Play of light and dark, illusion and shadow.

Distant from noise, pollution and people

Distant from relationships and commitments;

A few hours of solitude;

An unexplained long pause

On conversation, thoughts and subconscious;

But once the mind reeled on

Love draped to the roles of

Relationships designed, denied and defined.

Presumptuous to existence comes alive

And the descend to the start turned casual;

Nature spreads the balm yet the mind scripted.

Mighty

The ink simply refused to flow,

When I picked up

My favourite Hero,

A Chinese make.

Black body with a golden cap       

That faded with time

Yet reminding stood

The many exams battled –

And conquered smoothly;

The speed maintained

By my fingers holding gently

The thing of past now.

With no ink around

Water came to its rescue;

The nib reacted with a jerk or two –

Splashed a few drops            

When pressed on to the paper;

A little scratch, then light and bright

“Life” it entered with a clear “if”.

The mighty hero a fighter till date

Refused to let go its valour

My pen, my companion.