Box of Pixels

Every part of your body, every inch can hear the sounds.

Every night, you go to bed thinking tomorrow is a new day, and I am not going to stare at my phone as soon as I wake up. With excitement and hope, you doze off to sleep. While  your phone buzzes with alerts throughout the night, you finally manage to sleep. The next morning, you forget what you thought about the night before and count all the notifications you collected over the night like a child collecting candy after halloween.

Today, being young gives you the advantage and capacity to do multiple things. In a world where there is an abundance of everything and access to it, we are spiralling downloads waiting for that one last follower or like to please our social media ego. Self care is far from where we are, pleasing others has become our sole aim and taking care of our development, mentally and physically has been stagnating.

Try to look for a person who simply walks to enjoy rather than count steps on devices and you’ll be at a loss. From waking up to falling asleep, we have an app that tracks and controls our life, and we say we live freely.

You may not feel trapped in this box of pixels but your life truly is. Touching objects and people in real life has become rather hard. There are more long distance relationships than actual people living together. And yet, we prefer to live this way, paying for retiring from our devices, paying to live in a quieter network free location, while all of it can be possible if all we did was step out from this box.

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Oceans of Sand

It’s the waves that bring you back to the shore

Taking a grain away each time

The sand sinks in

Settles down at the bottom of the ocean

A soft bed for life to grow into

Once again

Building its own sand castle underground

While the surface travels far

In search for more

Bringing together

Binding

Sand of different lands

Letting it out costs nothing

A time where hashtags like #womensupportwomen and #girlpower flood social media, a simple #metoo took everyone by storm. We talk about uplifting and empowering women but at the same time not everyone believes it off social media. While that happens around the world, India is still stuck in a place where there is a whole other story playing. Here, women are worshipped in temples, but treated like slaves in bedrooms. A society that is equal parts male and female dominated is still suppressing women at the end of the day.

As someone who spent her youth years in both India and outside, being able to understand different cultures helped shaped Origami Birds. We may think women are treated in a certain way in our society, but we don’t realize what is happening elsewhere. Social media very well hides our real life, which in turn makes people believe we are all too perfect to feel stronger emotions like pain or anger. We are all trained to keep a prim and proper exterior, meanwhile our interior starts to rot. By the time you realize you need to let it out, there is no one who is going to listen to you.

When I personally reached that point where I felt like I was going to explode, I used poetry to express myself. Being a private person, it was always hard to share my feelings with people, and I felt like there were more people out there who felt the same way. Over multiple coffee meets and stressful talks, I started listening, and when I did, a million stories started to unfold, which came to be the collection Origami Birds is.

“I feel cold in your warm caress. I feel scared in your security.” This excerpt from Origami Birds shows how majority of poems are written metaphorically between a man and a woman, where the man is the society and the woman is all of us. Through Origami Birds I am not trying to start a pro feminist movement, just simply sending a message out about how easy it is to let it out. The more we keep inside, the harder it gets. As the book begins, I want the reader to understand that we all as humans are just like an Origami Bird. Shaped and molded by the society, but free in the essence.

“Some birds are free,

Some birds are caged.

This origami bird is

molded from a page.

Set her free,

Or let her be.”

By reading Origami Birds, I want the readers to be able to feel lighter. If they relate that’s great, it means they want to get the heaviness off their chest and if they don’t, at least they’ll be able to help someone else out who feels that way.

When someone meets with an accident and starts to bleed, our instant reaction is to stop the bleeding. Then why now do the same when someone feels that way mentally? Our mental health is so strongly attached to our physical health, yet we don’t treat them the same way. If our minds are clear from any stress or pressure, it will show on our physical selves. Once we start to keep both in good shape, our lives will become a lot easier. It’s all about finding that person who will listen without judgement, and just listen, sometimes opinions and consolation are not needed. That’s why I encourage people to reach out to me if they would like to talk, because feeling better by talking doesn’t cost anyone anything.

 

 

The Caged Bird Dies

The Caged Bird Sings Dies

She’s frail you know, very delicate. Her eyes have softness, almost like a romantic scene playing. Her lips parted, waiting to speak, but she doesn’t have words to say. Patience is her forte, she’s been waiting in his chamber like a pet, waiting for his master by the door. While she sits on the velvety bed covers, warming her skin, there is a beat in her heart waiting to take a plunge. Wrapped around her is a mere silk sheet, protecting her modestly. She’s been staring at her refection from across the room, what a madness this life is, she muses to herself. And yet she’s frozen in between a nightmare of a reality.

Oh, there it is, the show will start very soon. She can hear the rustling outside. The door knob turns, alerting her entire body to awaken from this oblivion. She pretends to smile with all her might, “what a lie”, she thinks in her head.

He inches forward, a step at a time. Preparing for the act he performs every day. In an instant, he begins to tear down her body, “no teasing” she wonders, “he must be hungry today.” While he tries to satisfy his hunger, the urge to leave her body busies her mind. “Try to think about your freedom”, she tells herself. “Oh what a fool am I, what is freedom worth for a rotting body like mine.”

There it is, she’s pulled out of her thoughts. He’s getting closer to the closing act; his craving is satisfied now. In the blink of an eye, she’s back to where she was. But this time, it won’t end the same way for her, he knew what this meant. She’s floating this time; she can feel the lightness. Oh dear girl, if only you knew what this meant. Because he’s finally walked away, leaving the carcass behind.