fledgling

  2020 has been testing the capabilities of mankind.  For some, it meant losing their jobs. For others, it broke relationships and snatched the lives of millions. For people like me, it was an interesting time that forced me to introspect and reap answers within. Since the beginning of the year, the troubling instances that followed - the pandemic, protests, and the global loss of faith in the future has left little hope and faith; rather, fear has taken its place. Is this a mental pandemic ? More and more people are losing their peace of mind, getting sucked into the toxic, hungry quicksand of the media. Many of us couldn't manage to get a good night's sleep without tossing and turning in our beds. Although the mental impact isn't obvious, it has been a tiny worm slowly chewing at our peace and well being. What an irony the past few months have been.  Mental health has definitely seen a dip this year, considering the distressing media consumption least spoken about, the th

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free Where the world has not been broken up into fragments By narrow domestic walls" These are lines penned by renowned poet Rabindranath Tagore, during a time of bloodshed and captivity. More than a century later, these lines still resonate with the average millennial, for we find ourselves in a crisis never met before. As Tagore says, we may be bound in our homes, but we are still free men and women in our hearts and minds. The virus may have locked us up in our homes for months, but it definitely hasn't strangled our minds with metal chains. In fact, it has provided plenty of food for thought about the future of our nations. We have still found a way to regain our lost freedom by letting our minds explore endlessly. As a citizen, freedom to me means being able to express my thoughts freely. This pandemic has managed to accomplish the impossible - breaking the vicious cycle of our hectic schedules.

I feel torn in different directions  My heart feels ripped into strands Just as the wounds began to heal, My soul and life amending the faults And pretend like one happy union The acid in my life Melts those those scars Are the cries of help and distress I hear Not from the battle I fight with Life, But from the quiet, muffled struggle within myself? Sometimes, those scars melt , And escape my eyelids in frustration. How long can I put up this grand act? That I am whole, complete, and unscathed While I struggle to keep my broken shards together? How long can I soothe these cracks in my soul, With balm, that when Life rains on, Melts and runs like my tears I feel my body and soul fighting each other, Something that hasn't ever seen peace And now the clashes are something I cannot explain. Where do I belong? In my safe, little cocoon Where only I exist? No, that suffocates me. In the world of family and people? No, it confuses me. Is this battle ever going to quieten? Where do I belo

KD Karuppu Durai (2019) Cast : Mu. Ramasamy, Naga Vishal Director: Madhumitha Genre : Dramedy Synopsis : Karuppu Durai, an bedridden man nearing his eighties, wakes up from his coma and runs away from home, when he learns his family has been planning to perform ancient euthanasia on him. Rating : ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Puts a smile across your face" ‌This is a humorous, uplifting take on 'thalaikoothal', an ancient form of euthanasia that placed the shameless monopoly of precious life in the hands of the very children that one nurtures. How ironic, I feel, when one's children can decide when you breathe your last, when it was you who breathed life into their very bodies? The story starts with Karuppu Durai, an ill man in his eighties, lying in a coma. The film begins with an beautiful, rustic monologue of senile innocence in the raspy, mellow voice of Karuppu Durai. But, to wake this comatose man, all it takes is a whiff of his daughter's biryani to get his engines

The fire that lived in my pupil That fed on the salt of my tears, The taste of solitude in my tongue  Where my flesh and limbs mattered Even when the heavens melted upon, I didn’t feel a trickle. You are the flame that scars my heart  Yet your fingers gently caress and heal You flavour my soul with thunder And bless me with fierce heat Yet, I find you resting  In the folds of a quiet ripple  You watch me slip and falter Like a music note in the air  Yet catch me before I fall. You crush and shatter me Only to stick my fragments together again, With silver dusts of courage. You whisper in silence, That my every atom was carefully picked From the cosmic dust of the Universe Inside every cell lies a stellar secret  And you leave the keys in my palms You run in the streaks that race on my palm In the sickly sweet ichor of my veins You are the gentle rhythm of my life, Just you, and me.

Like a droplet of the ocean, That embraces its joys And continues its worldly wander, This too shall pass, Time goes on, And so does life. No matter how many times your heart bled in agony, Or shattered into a million shards like glass, The ache is not to remain forever. The tears that escape your eyelids, Will not cling to your eyes forever, Learn to relish the beauty in the lack of time Be it your victory, Or your failure, And both would be forgotten in moments. Imagine a world, Where one is tired of too much bliss, And another’s tears would never run dry. Rage through it, for you can Because one day, The storm will die,  And your heart will let the sunshine  Revive your blood and veins Let your heart embrace time, As it hopes to heal your scars. You will walk through it, With valour and style, Like a phoenix that just rose from its ashes, Like a lone lioness, stroked by the breeze Hungry to lap up the fierce rays of noon. This too shall pass.

I felt lost. My chest felt heavy in question Woe gripped my heart's flesh Hungrily scraping the tender, warm flesh The drum of every second I felt like being ripped backwards Like a helpless mussel in the grip of roaring waves I struggled to breathe in my own tears. Every tear sizzled with my burning desire, Scorching the beauty of the moment That painful throb in my chest, To tear the skin of comfort I sought refuge in, Like the painful push of a butterfly in its cocoon That stubborn flame that refused to be hushed, To survive the agony greatness burdens you with Kindling the flame of great want and desire For the droplets of comfort to evaporate And let the wanted thirst of greatness reign The lusciously tempting fruit man chases But few survive the storm greatness carries along Most men often wither too early, And few possess the strength to stay afloat. That powerful voice that left ripples Painfully trying to push me to greatness The moisture cling

Mothers create and nurture us. They are our rivers of unconditional love we can always count on. This Mothers' Day, I decided to take it a step further. My grandmother is the trove of love and wisdom for our family. I call her Ammamma, and you may have different names, but despite the name, every grandmother has the universal trait of unwavering love and distinct warmth our parents don't possess. Mother to five daughters, my grandma is the pillar of support our family leans on. This Mother's Day, I am excited to feature my grandmother, the strongest and most loving mama I know. Let's look at a mother's heart from the inside, tracing her origin. Walking down the memory lane.. MM : What is a dear childhood memory you still laugh at? Actually, there are many. We were five siblings together. I had two older brothers and two younger ones. I was the only little girl and the pet of my brothers. Being the only daughter, I was pampered and I was neve

Thappad (2020) Cast : Taapsee Pannu, Pavail Gulati, Maya Sarao Director : Anubhav Sinha Genre : Drama Synopsis : Amrita lives that picture-perfect life every housewife would long for - a loving husband, doting mother-in-law and loads of liberties, until one moment shatters her life and forces her to question the worth of her marriage. "Just a slap is enough" After Mulk and Article 15, Anubhav Sinha is back with Thappad, a hard-hitting film that makes you think about a woman's position and treatment in a family. Thappad is the story of Amrita, a housewife who is happily married to her beau, Vikram, who quite obviously is running that endless marathon - in pursuit of that long-awaited life abroad. Thappad throws light on how one slap, just one, is more than enough to question a relationship. Again, it is not 'bas itni si baat'. It is that crack of a relationship, when mutual respect is shattered and loses its meaning in this delicat

As a teen living in the 21st century, you probably might call this a silly one to pop in my head, as you brag about the progress women have made in leaps and bounds. But of what I have observed and experienced in my thirteen years - I don't think so. A few years ago, I faced an interestingly difficult situation. I was serving as the head girl of my school and I had to work with my male classmate, the headboy, to lead the Student Council. Despite my efforts to contribute as a leader, I felt my ideas and views were being suppressed by the headboy. My competence was constantly criticized. I could not find any equality in between, despite being of the same age and importance. Stepping into the shoes of the headboy, he was a student of my age who came from a patriarchal family, that exalted men to authority. He was raised by a family that favoured its sons over its daughters, and grew under the impression of a man's superiority over a woman. Despite my situation, I gave m

The plump orange in the sky Ripens and tumbles down the horizon As the frosty dark strays across the skies The glimmering waters, a soft scarlet Numbing the energy of the oranges To a pale blue, of lifelessness. I dwell in the dusky realms of twilight My worn eyes, gently resting in peace As the flawless skies lovingly cradle The glistening dark, soft as a whisper The lake of voices unheard, Where treasures, left unearthed Of stories, left unrelished. When bustling cacophony of daylight, Is hushed, buried in silence. When the immature howls of man Wear off and die, in the troubled day air Man, like an infant, seeks refuge In the loving arms of Morpheus As he revels in innocent bliss Tightly wrapped in love and warmth Man, the child of earth Mewling sleepily in oblivion, Some, ripping his woes and troubles Full of wishes and wants, sans reason. Most break free of this gloomy spell While some never do. As the golden streaks of daylight Pierce the sky of

Death. When fire is silenced to smoke. When raging storms is reduced to a breeze. When gushing waters hush to a trickle. When lips hold secrets, Time is cut off, And words are trapped forever. When the soul yearns to flourish, Yet crushed too soon. When the heart longs to throb Just once, Yet suppressed too soon. When beauty unfolds in one's eyes And withers in moments. When dreams, created with zeal Crumble in your eyes. When fruiful joy in warmth Shrivels in icy hatred. When the last shred of hope Weakens and tears apart. When the infant, in lost search Loses grasp of its motherly bond. The premature lily, softly folded in silence Wrinkled in fear and refusal Forever hidden in oblivion A moist clump of earth, Now a lifeless carcass. Death, Is a beautiful rest. The drowsy eyelids Snap shut, One last time. The fiery heat of the flames, Thawing and embracing Icy twilight. When the hands of the clock Melt and creep closer To the

What have we done? We call our dear country 'Bharat Mata', but what do we do to her own daughters? We all proudly boast of the footsteps India has taken towards the future, but have we forgotten our daughters? Is this country only for men? When it comes to our daughters, it has more or less remained all the same. Women are still looked upon as mere flesh-and-blood multiplier machines without a heart or soul of their own. They are the toys men crave, and like every toy, used and thrown. They are the toys they vent their desires in, shamelessly without the humanity of the human race. The women of our country are still forced to hide beneath a veil of fear and still hide behind their fathers and brothers.  So, what is it that you are trying to say? That this country is meant only for men? Despite several leaders of the past tying the broken shards of our nation together, we still haven't recognized our women. A girl is born. You feed her with fear and shame and t

In the mystic realms of twilight Resting in the fragile lap of the water lily The sweeping breeze, heavy with scent Her fragrant white blossoms, Gently wrapped around her flowing locks Dewy and pious as her, like still water Flowing and swirling like the stars Flavoring the nightly breeze The smoky dusk, curled up like a child in her eyes Glistening moist in the soft moonlight Her crestfallen eyes a deluge Of rejection and shame Of delicious passion and hope To craft her own story Every drop, hushed behind the dark kohl lines A marriage of ink in melancholy The blushing sun, soaring in the tan sky Of fire and passion's thirst As she lies forlorn Melting in the dry, thirsty flames In the gloom of the nightly mist The strangled tears left uncried Like unborn words trapped in her lips Slowly groans and escapes her eyelids Her sorrowful droplets, stroking the tender daffodils Clinging onto the milky petals Pleading to protect the delicate slumber To ki

I looked in the mirror My eyes, barren and lifeless The tears, strangled and tied for years A moist marriage of emotions My song, the one I have always wanted to listen The song of my own, my compass The one that clasped my hands When I was afraid of stepping ahead The one, a gentle hum in my heart That pointed towards home,  Painfully striving for birth To break the strong chains of my heart The strings of fear and doubt I now feel those locked tears Frozen in soulful, icy darkness Melt in heat and finally, touch sunshine Flowing without bounds in joy I now feel my warm blood Gushing in my veins joyously Alive, with life and meaning To chew and savour every moment And feel the sweetness of life on my tongue My eyes now glimmer in hope Of distant dreams and wonders Of meaning, my hopes, My wishes and wants That song of mine, lost far in the woods Once trampled, under the weight of my lips, Is now born in glory and pride, This time, loud and clear, To p

Chennai. A beautiful city with everything one could dream of. The lively city of the ocean, fish, the southern Chandini Chowk, semma music and the world-famous Madras baashai. How could I forget, the people of our soil, thumping their chests in the pride of the language that rolls and dances on their tongues with grace, my own language. Our chill December evenings, adorned beautifully by the cultured voices and the thump of the mridangams, along with a comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee and vadai. The nectarine sweetness of our 'zha' will always echo on our lips. Our flowing, delicate Kanchipuram drapes embrace every woman, accentuating the beauty of our Tamil damsels. This weekend, I got to take a stroll on the shores of Besant Nagar. I have always loved the waves and seaside breeze. I have always enjoyed the ruffle of the ocean breeze and the spray of the seawater. No matter how much luxury money can buy, nothing can beat the chidlike joy of wading in the waters

Hello everyone! Today is quite a special day for me. I am finally leaving the first twelve years of my childhood behind and entering the exciting new phase of teenage. A time when you shed the skin of a child and explore the realms of adulthood. For me, turning thirteen hasn't made a big deal of difference on me. I still feel the same as I was and I don't feel any impact mentally at all. I have spent the past twelve years of my life living like a novice, and I don't quite understand the concept of teenage. Honestly, I don't know what to think of it and I just cannot conclude upon it at all. Perhaps its just that I'm currently clouded mentally, and I am not able to clear the confusion in my mind. All I know is that I might have improved and grown up as an individual but, I'm still a childish mess in my head with emotions spilling all over the place. Turning thirteen is a lot to take in. I feel this milestone is something that will add a little more

Hey there! I have some amazing news to share. Fledgling is turning two today! Time does seem to fly by. My humble beginning with Fledgling, exactly two years ago, just seems like yesterday. Not too long ago, I was a perky ten-year-old who just loved writing. Here I am, two years later, now something much more. A lot of miracles have crashed upon my life in these two years. In early 2018, I finally decided to let the world see my work. I was finally ready to push and tear my cocoon open to show the world my colourful wings. A year later, I wove some of my stories together and published my first book Solitude, something I will never forget. Months later, I started writing local articles for newspapers and magazines and later tried my hand at writing for anthologies. This journey has been so exciting and memorable. Every time I look back, I find beautiful memories I will always cherish, like the night I published my first post on Fledgling. That thrill and high I get from writi