Lexicon

  I was determined to paint my fate it had been looking monochromatic as of late that cold night, I coloured my world warm the first rays of dawn patiently waited to inform that everything I painted white, to my dismay was nothing if not a long stretch of grey I grabbed my brush once again  in that summer air, I coloured my world blue and ran out of all my shades when it came to capturing sun’s golden hue My world felt dark and dull I was questioning my art when the rain showered upon my world giving me a fresh, colourful start the spaces I’d filled with black, to my utter surprise lay between the greys, where utmost truth lies Tempered with the rain was sweet sunshine making a half circle pathway for colours to rome the shades poured over like streams to the river and decided to call my eyes their home I started seeing colours  and shades entirely new realizing there's a colour palette designed for my mind too  I'm not the writer of my destiny  but I don't need...

  Oh hush, don’t read this aloud, it’s a story no one knows She was covering her tan with long sleeves, when he held out a black rose Oh pain, how it shot under her skin, like icicles her broken heart froze Her frail body shivered as she wondered, “was all I deserved a black rose?” She wondered if it’d be any different, if she changed the colour of her hair Would she still get a black rose, if she were a tad bit more fair? Her insecurities convinced her, the flower was some sick joke She should’ve seen the boy’s eyes, at length his nervousness spoke Oh pain, how it shot under his skin, as embarrassment clouded her mind  She walked away, repulsed, totally missing he was colourblind  He knew she loved dark red, the florist heard him wrong   But nothing he could’ve said, would change this sad song For it was never about colour,  neither of her skin nor flower It was her blindness that ruined their ‘could’ve-been’, to the essence of his gestures, that she’d never s...

When I cried over actors playing dead, my granny truthfully said, “Don’t believe what you see or hear, frankly it’s just a pretense, dear” When I hurt myself in a playful fight, my granny said, hugging me tight, “Don’t grieve, why must you waste a tear, it’s really just a pretense, dear” When I felt betrayed in a game of cards, my granny was the one to offer her regards, “Don’t you worry, this isn’t severe, after all it’s just a pretense, dear” I understood my granny well, she made her point pretty clear but I’m beginning to read beyond it, as my adulthood is near Despite how different my granny made it appear, I wonder if she truly meant-  “ Life is just a pretense, dear”

Avoiding- I’ve mastered that art by now. I can do it with my eyes closed but moreover, I can nail it with my eyes open. I can see things with the empty stare of not having seen them. I can hear words with the sheer surprise of never having heard them, and I can avoid situations like they never presented themselves. It’s as easy as shoving back an unpleasant memory. A dismissing head-shake and it’s gone. That’s all it took until she stood tall in front of me, head up, chin up, looking me in the eye as though challenging me with her daunting gaze.  “Why don’t you love me?”  I immediately break eye contact as if the slightest of eye movement would make her disappear. Unlike all the things I have been avoiding, she doesn’t go away simply after blinking. Her pinning look demands answers and I am nothing if not a questionnaire myself.  I want to ask her why she hates me, why she avoids me, what part of me disgusts her. I have so many questions for her but firstly, does she real...

Gen(uine) Z They could bet they recalled their childhood was shared  they have seen another lazing upon their bed  They could confirm they grew up together  they would affirm  they needed one another  They could assure you they wouldn't fight they would be inseparable through day and night They insist they have a sibling none that you conceived  you wonder what you’re missing what child is your memory dismissing? They grab their phones and type away it’s a sibling thing,  but don’t you meddle  for not every generation was born  with technology  in their cradle... *** Generation Z is practically growing up with technology. Both advancements being directly proportional. Amidst this, the generation finds it conflicting to distinguish virtual from reality. Gadgets are beginning to become their roommates, their best of friends and everything genuine is taking a back seat. 

  There were days when I had a voice of my own.   Then there was the great revolt. It’s not like our clan and the other never fought before the revolt, but those fights were nowhere close to wiping out the existence of an entire community. At times I wonder what it would have been like if I perished along with the rest of my community members. That way, I wouldn’t have to live a life that isn’t mine. I also wonder if some other members of my community survived like I did. Maybe I could get a Doctor to treat my deep wounds and my survival chances would increase. Although a pointless thought, it makes me feel safe. The happiness is short-lived though, for I know far too well that to live in this world, they would have to live as a member of the opposite clan as I do. The disguise makes it impossible to spot my clan members and for them to spot me, assuming they made it. The odds of them turning out to be a Doctor are even more slim. Which makes me wonder how many days I have at ...

  Worry not! We are fixing it         The Olaseez were known to be brilliant creatures. Their intellect was unimaginable. To give you a reference point, the dumbest of Olaseez would still be seven steps ahead of a Mensa group member. Amongst one such clique of Olaseez, belonged Steven.  Steven had had a rough day. To top it off, he entered his shiny, clean lab to see a gross lump at its corner. The lump sat surrounding his favourite golden lamp. The specialty of which was how it was a spherical body suspended mid-air without visible support. Oh, how he had spent days working on its design. And now a disgusting structure was forming on it. He covered his nose and leaned in closer to have a better look.  Tiny granules made themselves visible. They seemed green, but there was no saying without a microscope. As he fetched one from the common area, his fellow mates joined in out of curiosity. Their reactions were identical. Scrunched up noses, taking a step...

    Even after two hundred twenty seven years, I can precisely recall what those gates looked like.  Rusted brown, high as Everest, wide as the Great Wall of China, and as finely carved as humanly possible.    ~~~   A young man about eighteen years old, walked confidently down the hallway. His eyes searched the unfamiliar place with curiosity. If he was feeling confused or lost, he hid it pretty well. He kept taking quick steps until he reached crossroads. Going with his gut, he followed the path to his right, as anyone with a soul alike would have.  On reaching the end of this seemingly never-ending lobby, the figure of an old man came into focus. Behind the man was a tall, metallic gate. The young man's naturally stoic face could no longer mask his amazement. Those gates were known to have that effect on people. They brought out the side of them that made them themselves .  The old man introduced himself as the gatekeeper. He insisted the young ...

 Generation gap is never painful without communication gap Back when I was twenty-three young, naive, happy, carefree I fantasized once having two cute sons I hoped- to be a good parent; to know the reasons for their choice; to run a mile in their shoes, before ever raising my voice To feel the shoe bites they had before I acted To understand their sides before I reacted Alas, no matter how much I tried no matter how many times I wore Those shoes of a kid now fit me no more As I neared my forties I couldn’t relate to the kids’ part the pieces never fit instead kept falling apart I saw our bond burn down in flames as generation gap grew from its smoke trying to be in their shoes soon just felt like a joke Until one day when they cried with aching pain, I recall they said “Mom, you never even tried! look where your parenting led” It was then that reality hit me hard generation gap was just an excuse communication gap was the main reason that made me outgrow their shoes

The Scotts were known to be punctual animals. Dinner was served at sharp 8:03 p.m. daily, for years. Except for today. It isn’t until the clock strikes eleven that the main door’s hinges creek with the tired Scotts coming in. “Oh boy! How my feet hurt after standing for hours” winces Mrs Scott. “Didn’t mean for you to have to work three jobs. I know it’s gonna be tough for you…and it’ll get worse eventually. But the times are such tha-” “I get it, honey” says Mrs Scott reassuringly, to which Mr Scott gives her one of his sad yet appreciative smiles. Mr Scott runs four businesses on his own, three of which are doing miserably poor. Not that he could help it. Recession issues, you see. Lisa, the only daughter of the Scotts, starts crying before dropping the phone from her ear onto the floor. Startled by the sound, Mrs Scott springs into motion all of a sudden. “Sweetie! What’s wrong? You okay? Are you hurt? Oh my God are you crying?” “Drama teacher called to say I can’t play Fairy’s role...

"What is it like to alternate between masks between every personality ever known each, but your very own?" The actor smirked, pity evident in his eyes said he to me "At least I am well aware  Of how what I wear are only mere masks that can be removed after all my tasks Or how I can play several roles How I get to choose What could be those At least I'm not Stuck with the thought Of "What have I become?" Or "Who am I?"  For if I so desire the mask's gone, in the wink of an eye..."

      You half-heartedly scroll through your feed when your neighbour's loud rock songs break your chain of thought. "Keep it low!" you shout through your window, while shifting neither your gaze nor your position.  And...you keep scrolling.    You continue laughing at  memes until they fail to even slightly turn the corners of your lips. When boredom starts hitting unusually hard, you begin working overtime to keep yourself busy. As you unlock your laptop to Microsoft Teams, the group chat makes you feel sick. Why are all the chosen idiots dumped in your teams ALL-THE-TIME?   You cannot stress enough on how dumb they are. Their lack of knowledge and common sense gets you second guessing your decision of having agreed to work with them. Without any hesitation, you lash out at them on the group chat. Not that it was necessary but you had the authority so why not?  Just as you were looking at your sharp replies proudly, a flood of notifications...

    "Hi, I am Raksha Trivedi from the editorial team of the most popular magazine in India- Section 302. I am recruited for proofreading. Today is my first day at work, and I feel honoured to share the table with you all." My brief introduction was followed by whispered greetings from my colleagues. I returned them, smiled, and walked towards the meeting hall exit. Before I could enter my cabin, a seemingly-uptight woman made me pause. She asked for all of my crucial documents, including my passport. I had them ready in a folder. As I extended my hand for her to have a look at the contents of the folder, she grabbed it instead! "Procedures demand these documents to be in the lockers with us. Can't help it," she said. It wasn't particularly comforting to have my passport locked up at someplace I don't have access to while my visa was on the verge of expiring. But I didn't have much say here. I was well aware of the fact that Section 302 had strict and...

1. Maybe  I stared at the dead rabbit on my lawn for a bit too long. It had fresh deep cuts shaped by sharp, savage teeth. Blood poured over to the cement floor and reached below my shell-shocked body.  In my reflection in the blood, I could see it again. Unshakable, undeniable, tangible regret looking at me in the eye.  Maybe if I had reached a few minutes early, I would have been able to save a life. Maybe if I hadn’t just spent an hour on the bed, crying, I’d have reached downstairs in time.  Maybe. My life has been a lot about ‘maybe’s lately. Maybe if I visited my mother on her birthday for once, she might think of me as a  lesser awful daughter. Maybe if I left early for work, I wouldn’t break traffic rules. Maybe if I wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time… It just went on and on.  I cycled through my lawn, making sure I didn’t crush the rabbit. I then went past the neighbourhood, towards the city side.  The sun was like a dab of blush on t...

  2.Did you know? “How did it go?” Cam asked.  “Not an ideal first day of college” “Oh” I gave him a sad smile. He returned it too. In that moment, we said everything without words. Everything about how he was sorry my classmates found out, about how I knew I would never really be accepted in society, about how it felt to be illegitimate. Everything. It’s fascinating just how much a sad smile can hide.  As we were crossing the footpath beside one of those beautiful ponds in the city, he asked me pointing at the water lilies “Lara? Did you know water lilies lasted for only three to five days?”  Cam was sad. I knew it since he would throw random facts my way whenever he was. His way of coping up, I assumed.  “No, I didn’t know that.” ~~~ “Hello?!” yelled the young man in the floral shop in the North-west valley.  He seemed to have been calling my name for a while now but I didn’t realise.  “Yeah, sorry. Can I have a bouquet of blue water lilies please?”...

3.Water lilies It’s 3 a.m. and I’ve given up on trying to sleep. Because everytime I do, I hear my screams. Helpless and hopeless. Desperate cries of help that will always ring in my ears.  The whole night is basically about me shifting sides and my bed creaking beneath me every time I do.  “Cam?” I asked, to the darkness in my room.  “I miss you. I miss how you made me feel like I wasn’t a bad person. Like I had the potential to improve. And that I deserved to be treated better than being tagged as ‘illegitimate’. I miss your smile, your jokes, your presence. Everything you said, everything you didn’t. I miss you everyday, every moment. And above all…I miss us. I miss what we were together. Our talks, our time spent together. Our life after we met each other”  I didn’t hear a response. But I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting.  At around 7 a.m. I got up to leave. As I cycled towards my destination, I recalled every little detail of that day crystal clea...

  Untold A raindrop once said,  while sharing his pain  "I have been through much more  than just going down the drain  I have been wasted, I have been saved I have been soaked, I will be again Though I've seen so much  The thing that left a scar was watching a cloud suffer by each drop forced in, so far but it didn't complain, it didn't cry patiently waited to silently die-" he stopped midsentence as his voice just died  After which teardrop cried, "I get where you come from these struggles are no joke though we seem to be mere drops, we're proof of lost hope"  Raindrop nodded in pain then stood completely still as he noticed blood drop's 'sigh's and the tragedy hidden beneath his  eyes just the extent of what they had to hold  convinced him people have stories far worse  and untold...

It was a deserted road and Mr. Arora was more than sure not to meet a company by the break of dawn, which was still about some nine hours away.  He walked breathlessly towards the only open tea shop, with a heavy bagpack and two huge suitcases. He walked for what seemed like forever but as crazy as it sounds, the closer he went toward the shop the further it appeared to be.  He finally stopped still to breathe. As he did, he looked at the view ahead of him and thought of the striking contrast between what he saw and where he came from.  The sky was lined with shimmering stars, not street lights. The air was fresh not polluted. The only sounds audible were those of crickets, not vehicle horns. But all the above observations were least significant to Mr. Arora.  His way of looking at the contrast was analyzing the industrial development. It was negligible where he was right now and considerably good from where he had come. It would be safe to say, majority of credit fo...