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aarwen Poetry

Misery

writersbrew poetry

Tired and worn Tattered and torn Swept along hapless with the winds Left alone, faded and forlorn.   Wailing and weeping Sobbing and screaming Inconsequential in the grand scheme of things Damp eyes with tears streaming.   Depressed and driven insane Tortured and in pain Invisible to all that good fate brings Left alone fighting in vain.   Hopeless and unheeded Ignored and defeated A lone cry in the discordant dissonant string With all happiness depleted.   Ever had a day when you just can’t get…

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aarwen food

Have you ever had dal baati?

dal baati recipe

Blame it on Sooraj Barjatya. Those loud hyper happy families with beautiful decked grand halls, curving stairways, women with stone jewellery, intricate ornate lehengas and all that food! I was a Bihari (or half since my mother is a Bengali), but I longed to be a Marwari. The food was a big part of this yearning. In the movies, the heroine or mother would make gajar ka halwa (carrot dessert). But, there are so many more food options. My Marwari neighbours would call…

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aarwen

Of Dreams and Disasters

dreams disasters

“Elves,” concluded Lazywiz. A man and a woman were crossing the street. They were both dressed in black overcoats, a few sizes too big. Sharp features and a frenetic energy in their movement. Both had black hair with a lock of blue; a startling shade of indigo. She had a sleek ponytail and he carried off a rather long flop of hair. It was as if their human disguise had gone wrong. Harry Potter meets Lord of the Rings. On the radio,…

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aarwen

Dads are the hardest people to buy gifts for

Dads hardest people buy gifts

I had heard these words as the title of a song on a radio channel, on Father’s day, 2 years ago. The words have stayed with me. Apparently, Sunday is Father’s Day. I tried to remember, but I don’t think I have ever wished my father on this day. I usually end up wishing him a day late on his birthday too. He isn’t the kind to mind it or even expect it. Perhaps, that is why even I don’t…

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aarwen

Let’s Start at the Very Beginning..

Starting Online Magazine

P.G. Wodehouse would often say it’s damn difficult to know where to begin a story from. Go too far behind and your readers are twiddling their thumbs, bored by the old, irrelevant or repetitive information they already know, and love or hate or found uninteresting enough to forget in the first place. Start too far into the action, and your reader is probably scratching his head struggling to make sense of what is who and who is what, or making up…

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aarwen Poetry

Our plan

Our Plan Poetry

Come, run away with me Far away, further than the eye can see Across meadows of mustard Skip through thorny rose bushes Find me safe in the wilderness Don’t dare deny the lightheadedness…   Leave your caring family be Together we sow our own family tree A girl with unmanageable curls A boy exceptionally fair A house surrounded by flowers and humming bees Where two lovers shall frolic, forever free…   Come, run away with me The heart won’t need all that much money…

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aarwen

Right behind me, not beside me

queue Right behind me not beside me

“I don’t see what’s so difficult to understand. This is my spot in the line and you need to stand behind me.. Not beside me. Not to the right nor to the left, but behind me in the line” A smart lady (in looks and brains) shouted out in exasperation at the slightly overweight man trying to sneak up beside her in the line. Lazywiz almost fell in love with this sensible lady, and I was pretty smitten too. We…

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aarwen

Inspire… and then let go..

inspire and then let go - family of ducks in a lake

Whether you are professor Atkin looking upon John Galt, Francisco D’ Anconia, Ragnar Danneskjöld (from Atlas Shrugged, the book you must read if you haven’t) or you are the local army coach about to send Milkha Singh off to the big leagues(I don’t much like the movie Bhaag Milkha Bhaag) or you are a mother seeing off your kid to pre school the very first day (wonder how this feels).. You were or rather are his inspiration, but now it…

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aarwen Poetry

A Song of Love

song of love poetry

Vivid dreams, seethe tenderly A lore of love, for you and me Blades of grass, that branch with a swing Fluttering fireflies, their promise of spring Drizzle of rain, rumbling thunder Dash of snow, our blissful surrender Fire from woods, smolder of lips Your sultry touch, my heart that skips Tranquil moonlight, tempestuous gale Flickering candlelight, that hidden trail Words and thoughts, smile and a sigh Our steady gaze, under a clear night sky Shower of stars, a drop of dew This dance of…

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aarwen Poetry

If only I were you

If only I could be as complacent or in denial, whichever way you choose to look at it, as Calvin. I am not and it’s just one of those days when I would rather be more. You know that person you long to be? I have discovered you You are part of me, my catalyst An unexplored crevice inside A pertinent voice that refuses to hide Hard to catch within Impossible to hold outside You shimmer away You fade apart…

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