fledgling

The fresh sunshine of the coast Awakening the damp sand Tenderly kissed by the morning waves The golden drop, slowly trickling upward The ocean air, heavy with salt The sticky breeze in tropic heat The delightful spray of new life The cry of the seagulls awakens the fisherman His coarse hands The fruit of his early toil Sculpted over the ocean of time And sets foot in the damp soil Lovingly pecked by the froth of the waters The vermilion sun in the tan sky His arms, brawn and built The son of the ocean in slaving Let the chains immerse themselves And hush the throb of a tiny sprouting heart To let four more hum in peace The calm waters, washing ashore poetry Some, of joy and mirth Some, of pain and tears Carrying dissolved voices of hope and life And yet an ocean of smothered cries.    

The still air, ever so calm The blossoms, hushing their graceful waltz The rustling leaves, as if to quietly watch For my pursed lips to spill the words The raging torrents, now a calm ripple To quench the fire devouring the remains Of my broken shards of my hope The roasting sun a mere glow To melt my tears contained in my eyes And let the sounds of despair escape my lips To tear through the frozen cacophony Swaying on the creaking bough Lost in the ocean of thought Will there ever be a hand To grab me out of these murky waters? Engulfing me in the dark clutches of confusion Strangling my last gasp of air Oh, the ocean of my own tears The seething rays in the heat of fury Melting the sticky embrace of my own tears And let the strangling stalks of weed wilt The swirling gushes of wind Hushed to an innocent breeze Tenderly stroking my hair with love To soothe the raging storm in my chest Fanning my wet cheeks The cool waters kissing my toes Washing the tw

Throughout almost two years of Fledgling, you might have read about several people and places. This is my story. Since childhood, I have always been an ambitious child who yearned and burned with the passion to create an identity for myself. I was a sensitive child too, often bullied for my complexion. Though academic life was always a breeze, my social life has always struggled for stability and it still does. My conversations are rarely with people and my peers have always been in the form of a paper and pen. I needed something. My only comfort was music and literature. I delved deep into the literary universe and soon found myself intoxicated with the solace it gave me. Immersing myself in books and listening to other stories did help me take the weight off my mind, but these emotions, filled with inferiority, often overwhelmed my tiny brain and pushed them out in tears. It threatened to dangerously gnaw away at my confidence, which I could not afford to do at any cost.

Good morning! It is Day 3! What's up? We are already preparing to leave the hotel. It is around 7:30 in the morning and we will be checking out within half an hour and embark on the last leg of our journey. I took one last stroll around the vertical garden, the room and my favorite spots. I was leaving with a heavy heart, I knew. This was our last day at this beautiful place and today will write my final memories in this place. And? We boarded the cab to spend our day seeing the last few attractions saved for the last of our trip. Our first spot was quite far away - about 35 kilometres away from our hotel. We were headed towards Poombarai, a beautiful hamlet in the outskirts of Kodaikanal. This wasn't just a spot - it was once home to the notorious Seevalaperi Pandi, a Tirunelveli goon who once was the king of headlines in the 1980s.  This hamlet had a lot in store for us - beautiful carrot and garlic plantations dotting the borders of the hills. The villages

Why did you? Was the raw flesh of your own child The only answer to your monstrous hunger? Why did you crave for The blood of your own child? The thin ray of sunlight That melted the darkness of his mother's womb Just moments ago Now evaporated The darkness gripping him tight yet again This time, in fear and fright Is this just a nightmare? Will the stifling darkness melt away Will the warmth of hope Ever kiss this child of yours again? Even before the child Could grow its own wings You snipped and tore his future And killed the robust young man of tomorrow You crushed its dreams under your feet Though the innocent child clung onto you You buried the poor soul deeper The one that breathes life into farmer's fruit Has shattered the lives of not one, but two Let him sleep in his mother's lap The creator beneath the soil Her arms hugging him tight amid tears His own mother's plea To hold her son tight, like she would As the heat drains

Curled tight in slumber Wading in a pool of tears The grey waters, solemn and lifeless The clouds, grim and forlorn To stop the sultry rays From thawing the frozen happiness To let the grief melt away The burnt wax of twilight The acrid stench of the teary midnight oil My body like sloshed mushy noodles Still struggling in the darkness of dusk Thrown far away from daylight Where dreams and fantasies dance merrily in your eyes Than being shattered into a million fragments Wailing my lost victory and purpose The swirling colours, like my fragrant dreams Dancing and flowing in the skies Slowly melt and burn in acid In the scalding heat of the sun  The soaked pillow Hugging several sorrowful oceans of yesterday The salty stench of my past A fresh pang of agony and guilt Swirling in my stomach and intestines Where I yearned to walk my dreams Yet the bridge between remained broken The crashing cymbals in my eardrums Painfully tearing through my ears Like t

Good morning! It is Day 2! What happened? Last night was the hardest part we survived through in this trip. The temperature went below expected and we were left shivering and hungry. Three out of four of us have fallen sick. I am the only healthy and energetic one, out of the four of us. Last night turned out to be quite a turmoil for all of us. And? Anyways, this morning was indeed a happy one. Just as I had expected, the sunshine and birds were here yet again to wake me up. I started today with a snippet of wisdom from the book Most and More by Mahatria, a book I depend on for my morning motivation. After a short read, I took a short stroll outside in my dad's company, still wrapped up in a warm blanket. We chatted about deep realizations as well as daily trivia. We walked through the tiny vertical garden, admiring the flowers and plants. After a pleasant chat, we began getting ready for today's adventure. What's next? Just like last night, today

Lush hills. Faint sunshine. Blanket of clouds. This is Kodaikanal. It is early dawn. I slowly wake up, tired and worn out over travel in the bus. The next scene I see is nothing like what I'd seen before. As I pull the curtains aside, the faint sunshine illuminates the sleepy hills and the fir trees. A cool stream gently flows down the creek. Tiny houses dotted the hill, steam rising from the chimneys. Only when I peeped further did I notice that I was watching this 2000 metres high up! We later got off the bus and boarded a cab. If Chennai was a smoking concrete jungle, Kodaikanal was a slice of heavenly nectar. If Chennai was a life boat, Kodaikanal was a luxury cruise. Kodaikanal was truly an escape hideout from Chennai's scorching heat. What's next? We take a brief ride downhill to reach our cozy hotel room. Fighting the biting cold, we pull up our jackets and shiver in the cold, waiting to warm up in our room, which we were on our way. The mome

Uncomfortable, at the midst of public attention      She questions herself, "Am I ready for this?" The drapes gently unfurl, all ready To expose the young blossom to spotlight The sweet fragrance, tickles her nostrils Her own, the one trapped inside her The one of her wildest dreams, to touch pinnacles in the sky Her deepest fears and wishes, threatening to crush them deep She knows, it is finally time For the world to know The laughter and tears trapped behind the curtains Let loose, she says Her arms, thrown freely to her sides The graceful rise of her arms, high and low Begin writing her story, throwing sparkles of magic The streaks of emotions she left in the air Like washes of colour in the sky Like those wide smiles, a new geometric curve in nature The rapid knocks of her ballet shoes, Like her childlike giggles she shared Gentle, like the tender notes of the piano There was she, sliding like a teardrop That often escaped her kohl line

The gloomy tunnel of twilight Holding secrets locked deep Ones where not a ray of daylight touch In fear and secrecy The whispering twigs, yearning to fill Empty conversations, with words of no human sense Where the rocky pinnacles, weep in terror Tears of horror, trickling down the creeks And shiver in the cold deathly hallows With the icy breeze that it clings onto Only to slowly curdle and thicken blood Raging in the agony of a restless soul Its vengeful screams, muffled in the deathly silence Are the slaps of wrath and fury, Are the charging torrents of terror Hungry for my blood-soaked flesh, True? Just a mere trick.

I feel like an innocent child, again! Running down the street amid the frosty air Clutching tight my childhood treat Oh, I can feel it, warm and gooey! Yes, a piece of chocolate - a marvellous creation One that is crafted with memories Those days of my tender childhood Those fantasies of my naive youth What pleasure it was, I wish to relish now Like the nugget of wonder in my pocket! And oh, the same rich sweetness Hugged my darling's apron too The intense rich aroma Of dried coffee and cacao Oh, how I yearn for it today! While my tongue swirls the sweet sticky treat The chocolate, thick as heavy clay Smears itself inside my mouth Only to carry me away, beyond the heavens Like the devastating passion she struck in me While I bite into this sliver of beauty The crunchy almonds crack up in delight Like her cute childlike giggles The treacle steadily oozes on my tongue Freed from its prison of rich cocoa Oh, it is melting away Like the youth fantasie

The eerie air, screaming voices unheard The sharp piercing eyes, heavy with question Waiting for my tongue to carve an answer A wailing abyss Not the breeze of gloaming Not the wrathful torrents of the ocean Not the treacle of the heavens Not the humble blood of earth Neither the sweet cry of a nightingale Nor the thunderous roar of a hurt lioness But only those pursed lips could fill.  

Trapped and shrouded in darkness Not a wisp of air touched my skin Thrown on a piercing bed of arrows Screaming hatred, rejection and apathy    Have I fallen to dust? Brushed aside in lethargy Are the broken shards my confidence? The fragments, all reflecting me, amid a blur of tears A sculpture, once standing proud Now reduced to mere dust, crumbling in fear To console my weeping heart To fill the void of joy, evaporated Rushes in darkness, to hug me tight in solace Has the radiance of my bronze Lost its sheen to the icy white of yours? Is the light at the end of the tunnel Only a myth of human folly? Come light, Shine upon me, let my bronze glow And shatter the tunnel into fragments For I no longer see my crystal Buried beneath the heap of opinions Oh, and let those tears, slowly Evaporate in fury and passion And blaze like a gleaming flicker Proudly dancing to its own tune Not only to illuminate the world With its dazzling smile But also to shed l

Dear Comrade (2019) Cast : Vijay Devarakonda, Rashmika Mandanna Director : Bharat Kamma Music : Justin Prabhakaran                Genre : Romance/Drama Synopsis : Bobby, a youngster with anger issues, finds love in Lilly, a distant cousin with whom he              embarks on an emotional roller-coaster of its own kind.  Rating : ★★★★☆ "A crazy emotional ride" This tale speaks about Bobby, a young impulsive 'comrade', who has anger issues and tramps around his locality thrashing up goons. Bobby is an intriguing mixture of anger and idealism who is confused with his values and ideals. That is when he bumps into Lilly (no, literally), whom he gradually softens up to. The most fascinating aspect of Kamma's thoughts is the way he molds his characters in the most charming way. Watching the breezy friendship blossom into a devastating passion is truly the most delicious part of this film. This is a kind of film where trivia builds the story. This t

When my droopy petals begin to drop And try to slip very gently into The warm cuddling arms of Morpheus Alas, I am warned not yet For the fallen angel has shaken me Yet again. Rage and thunder, my soul While the world sleeps like a peaceful baby Screaming in the twilight silence Lest my soul be your captive Of your wicked midnight rendezvous Grappling and clinging to the last breath Alas, one that broke free moments ago Nibbling away on my peace so tranquil His claws piercing deep in my faint heart Leaving a sharp pang, throbbing so tenderly A fresh wave of painful agony Flowing through my tired veins The tormenting demon, you ask? One so merciless, and heartless Lest there be a creature of that sort For it is none but the Unbeaten foe of mankind The bitter souls of twilight That rob you of peace and calm The dancing swirls of worry Strangling my spirit, in iron chains Much to the struggle, to break loose Sleep, my dear child Forget the choking nightm

Most heroes we see on the big screen swim in money and fame, thrash goons and reduce larger-than-life tasks to dust. These heroes and their trivial might not stay in our mind for long, for we mostly just scoff and call it imaginary. But what if I tell you that there actually is a hero among us, who cares deeply about the people around her and actually makes an impact in people's lives? Our hero comes from the tiny Vinayagapuram Street in Surapet, Chennai. Sujatha, or Suja Ma as she is affectionately called by local residents, is truly a hero in her society. She is no person born with a silver spoon, yet she is a celebrity among the residents in the street, with every one knowing her residence. We all wonder about the story behind this wonderful human being. Read on to learn more about our Surapet Superwoman. Our hero was leading a simple life of a common woman (and she still does.) She noticed the society around her was changing and evolving. Her eyes fell upon a fast-growi

Waves of water caressing the rocks Washing over the sleepy pebbles While the warm sunshine of gloaming Kisses the clear waters of blessing The sun-kissed waters gently flow Beneath the massive boulders Bellowing in the caves Echoes the deep cry of the ocean Gentle mellow sunshine Hugging the cool glistening waters Playfully drawing vibrant designs Sparkling in tiny twinkling flickers My feet slosh in the water Leaving giant splashing ripples The white froth hugging my toes Clinging to my feet The sharp sting of the salty waters Flavour the crisp ocean air The damp sand of eternal footprints Laced by the foam of the ocean The chill ocean, serene and flowing Is jolted from its deep slumber The small quiet waves, fingers interlocked Charging down the horizon The crest of the mighty waves Only to crash into the massive boulders And shatter into a million droplets The calm sleepy ocean Basking in the evening glow The pink loving skies, fondly watching

Book : Great expectations Year : 1861 Author : Charles Dickens Synopsis : Pip, an orphan raised by his sister 'by hand' struggles to find himself amid the war outside and within Genre : Undefined Rating : ★★★★☆ Pip, a young orphan, finds himself under too many control territories, where he loses control of himself. While reeling under rejection and his induced sense of liability, he finds a warm kind-hearted companion in Joe, his sister's poor husband. The only comforts that Pip enjoys are his short yet lively chats with Joe and his gravy. His distinct way of calling his sister Mrs.Joe explains the master-slave relation they had, far away from an affectionate one. This book mainly discusses the internal conflicts we all have in the truest essence. Pip struggles to process and accept his surroundings and circumstances. He displays the traits of a whole flawed human being and sometimes makes us ponder whether we really are what we think we are. In the p

The moments when the bravehearts of Hindustan Throbbed with courage and passion for their motherland The minutes every Hindustani soul rose in pride At the ring of the words, "Bharat Mata ki Jai" The seconds when the eyes of every Hindustani Blazed in fury and rage The time when the blood of every soul Gushed through his veins and out And roared the name of Bharat loud and clear When the clear voices, once muffled Pierced sharply amid the British cacophony When the humble Danda Put the canons and rifles to shame When the roars of Hindustan Brought the British chaos to a standstill When the happy clinging of bangles in the hills Drowned and shattered in the thunder of firing cannons Mother Ganga, once pure and sacred Now washes over the banks in a deep tinge of sindhoor. The soil of petrichor, once dripping of dewy nectar Now soaked in the blood of her own children As Bharat Mata suffers in silence, a hapless mother Watching her children drop dea