What my pen wrote

  This poem is part of a movement performance, mirror, mirror, scripted by me and performed by Janvi Ananth and me. And more than anything else, her lipstick is what she uses to define them, It began on a valentine’s day, her love story with the lipstick, Leave it on her friend said, they will add life to your lips. Not the deep  dancer hues, but a dash of suggestive red. “Drop dead gorgeous” said the dropped mouths of the boys. She blushed a deep beet red at this unknown attention, bent her head Bravo, her heart said within though, you are blossoming my dear. The attention caught her attention, made her aware of her power As a girl, as a woman, as a  source and destination of passion. Passion, the word unknown had created a chasm between her childhood and now Standing on the other side, she tried several shades, Fushcia, hot pink, plum And this time, she did not blush, but met the  message in their eyes with a frisson The shades transformed her lips, her lips defin...

   A not so great Holiday- a story poem for 6 to 10 Hello Mummy, Hurray, It’s a holiday! I woke up like a good kid, I brushed my teeth and ate my cereal, And I have a lot of time till my next meal. I am bored and I called you to ask, what can I play today?   I think I will ride the cycle, The one given to me by Shamu Uncle? I will press the horn and make it go pom pom! Everyone will surely hear the sound!   No, you say… Daddy at home has a concall! Just the day I get to be at home after all! I have to play somewhere outdoors? Ok sure, after all I am four!             But mummy, what can I play today?   I know, I will run up and down the stairs, It is a little dusty but who cares! I will count each step and shout “Boo” Every time, I jump 2 steps in a row!   No, you say… it is against the building rules? Why are these grownups so cruel? I have to play something that’s allowed Ok fine, I will listen to you, I w...

    Title: The Loving Traffic Signal Age: 4 to 8 years         I wake with a start, at the sound of the truck, I can’t believe that I have overslept! I quickly shake the sleep out of my head,   This will not do, a traffic signal cannot go to bed.              I love my job and everyone loves me too, It is actually simple, what I have to do. I have to wink at all the vehicles passing me, In green, red, and orange- the colours three.                The cars wait for me to turn green, I oblige everyone, I am not mean. The pedestrians wait for red to pass through, I love my job and everyone loves me too.               Every morning, I stand, alert and ready to start, With a song on my lips and smile in my heart. I make sure that the city moves smoothly, So that everyone will love me profusely. ...

 The curse of Gandhari- a poem This poem was performed by me in Maanini a story performance. Oh the stench! The stench most vile!  The cries of unceasing sorrow rile The minds eye springs pictures hideous Annihilating the hiding places, ruthless I Gandhari, the queen of Hastinapur,  The mother of  a hundred sons, Stand amidst the blood strewn war ground Of each of my hundred ones I hear my maids gasp in horror, Its all red and a putrid brown Queen  fortunate you are for  You can blind it down I stop her with a  queens wave Why should it matter, the colour Surely a Kshatriya’s grave Would be a picture of valour Describe it to me , I command my maid How does it look, the battlefield of the warriors Are my brave sons still  blaring their contempt From beneath the shuttered eyelids? Is  the halo of  the brave hearts Hovering around my own hundred? But then, A tremble of fear infused my being I pleaded, A queen  turned to a mother aching...

  Better than Gold- a poem  Age 6 to 10 I pecked at the delicious berries, yum yum, My tummy was full, I wasn’t really hungry I pecked away just for fun. A little bit though, I wasn’t greedy, Why should I when I wasn’t among the needy?   I get what I want before I want, I have a hundred servants around me, My wish is their command.   If you are thinking who is this lucky guy, Hold your breath, let me introduce myself, I am the royal parrot of Rajah Suray. Don’t you dare call me a pet, I am much more, I am the most loved bird across the seven shores.   My golden cage is as big as the rajah’s own, Don’t tell him, but i think it is much prettier too Soft couches, yummy food, amazing games abound.   It may not come to you as a surprise, I dislike all other birds in the skies Like the crow   cawing on the old tree outside, Having rats for lunch, and what else beside.   Why does he seem so carefree and ...