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Fakebook?

In this world so connected with technology,we have actually lost our real connections.Technology has actually surpassed human-interactions. Real time Conversations became texting and Feelings became status updates.What you feel? Share your views on it.  So this is my first post for indispire , I hope to participate more often. #indispire149 has the above mentioned topic and I have decided to play Devil's advocate. ( the best type of advocate)
Disclaimer : All views are solely my opinion and all images are taken from google , I claim no rights over them.
Cliched intro and some irony 
In every century , every decade man (woman too?) has proven that he hates new change or technology. For , every innovation there is equal and strong opposition ( see how i mimicked newton there xD ) and a general sense of disdain over all things new. And that is precisely what is happening here when slightly older generations ironically go on social media and blogging platforms to state how we don't…

Sharikrida : A game of Political intrigue

It is not every day you get a chance to review a book before it gets officially released and I’m very pleased to announce that I got one such chance. So here comes , the first official review of the book!
Sharikrida , is a book authored by Krishna Trilok and published by Zuna Publishers. The book is set in the future where monarchy and kingdoms rule India ( now called Vehya ) again.
Btw don’t worry, this review is Spoiler Free!
The basic plot is that there are six kingdoms which rule the vehya subcontinent and the supreme ruler is chosen by a game of Sharikrida , a live action chess and strategy game. There is also a running thread about King Bharin Shah of the North fighting for justice against the evil supreme ruler Kesara Gaderia and his evil Shvagnin / Chessmaster .
As you can see , the book conjures up its own world effectively. The author has put in great effort constructing this fantastical realm so comprehensively that you want more stories from this world. Trilok should make a…

The Green coloured building

Blanket of nostalgia Wrapped me tightly Like a burrito When I woke up today.
Past memories weighed me down Go back to sleep they said Relive those joyous days Their glory finally acknowledged
Faces of friends Spaces I hung out Their authentic traces intact Beckon me home
Ships eventually sail Drop the anchor now and then Thirsty for mirage I drink salt water
It is better to revisit the green coloured building In my head The paths and persons more familiar and friendly So I shut my eyes tightly.
Good night! 
Also : My juvenile post on farewell to the green coloured building is here  It is my old school - BVM. Sometimes I get strong dreams about my school life and hope that I can relive them. I'm pretty sure I will appreciate it more this time around.

Shhh

Nothing good comes after 3 AM The monsters are waiting just around that corner I am losing already. Great confusion over life goals Nothing comes easily The landscape where I once seamlessly stepped into Now not really. Hush! You are no more a little baby A sad and helpless insomniac Penning thoughts for solace in sleep If only words can make you drowsy Maybe I should do a push up Or simply shut up my burning eyes What about this constantly humming brain? Maybe symptom of an everlasting pain Make this stop please I beg You can if you want to, says a voice from within But isn’t that a case with everything? The question of how might beat the question of when And the collateral might defeat the win.
Shhh.

Walking the Walk

I stand before 2 roads Hoping it will lead me to my yellow brick road Eventually leaving me at my dream destination Only that I don’t have a dream or a destination Let alone a way to reach the way to reach it.
Maybe life isn’t about reaching a happy place It is about being happy whilst while we reach it. The only way to know for sure is by walking the path and  not forgetting to enjoy the breath taking view. Look straight~like the eyes of god. 

( The object of this challenge is to write a poem in no more than 10 lines. Frame of reference is 'The Cross-roads' quoted from Kwesi Brew's poem, The Mesh. For Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads)

The story

I am very pleased to announce that this post marks #150 milestone for Steady Meanderings. No , I am not the kind who keeps tracks of these things , I'm very poor at statistics. However , I am very much addicted to social media and when I checked my memories on facebook for today , it came to my knowledge that 3 years ago on the exact same day was when this blog hit 100 posts. So I just counted the posts after that and voila! It was 149 ( You may never know with me , re count to be safe. I did count like 17 times. I do remember one accounts exam where I came to the same answer 9 times and the 10th time managed to be different {and thankfully right} ) I could be a cool blogger who doesn’t fuss about this number and move on to the topic of discussion. Let’s face the truth , I am uncool.
I did write at length about my own blog once before in this embarrassingly juvenile post. ( Clickhere ) But history needs to be updated and a I want all the new readers to know the story of this blog …

Cinema Kaaram Kaapi

I used to be a cinema paithiyiam. Used to know every Cheran movie , every random flick on K T.V and used to fill journals with my stray observations about a new film , gossip or even song lyrics. Then college happened. And I got more hooked to English T.V shows. However , this sem break I got time to catch up on tamil cinema and renew my love affair with Kollywood. And since I have my own blog now , I thought why not note my stray observations on this space.

1) The movie watching experience  :


  So a couple of days back I was poring through Baradwaj Rangan's blog on Wordpress primarily because I was bored. Also , I found the discussions under his review to be greatly informative and entertaining. Many people were attacking the critic for expressing his opinion over the film. But what else are you supposed to do as a film critic?
The movie watching experience is a very subjective one and depends on what you expect from a film. Brangan likes to watch movies which emphasise form ove…

Devil's Paradise

So within a day of pitching the idea , I come up with my latest blog idea ' Devil's paradise' . Here , any original work which wants to get published anonymously gets a chance to be so published. I introduce to you , the first post - a fictional write up of a 11 year old authoress and her writing ethics. Please leave a feedback as the budding writers may continuing writing only on your honest feedback!https://semisharings.wordpress.com/2016/11/07/quandries-of-a-11-year-old/
Click Here

The monster

When you were a kid You would search for me under your bed the same monster is now lurking inside your head.
Count to 10 Shut your eyes tightly to no avail I will grow my gospel In the darkest zones of your soul
Self doubt , green eyedness and low self esteem Are only some of the seeds I sow Their progenies will never really let you grow
Poor you , think sleep is a sweet escape You forget each time that nightmares are my favourite landscape.
I am the evil landlord That vanquished your brain When did you become the benami Against your own benefit?
My name is pessimism
Do you even remember yours? 

So Imaginary Garden with Real Toads had this topic which really piqued my interest , the real fear which lurks in the night, So this is my contribution towards the same topic.

Iraivi

They called me iraivi* And put me up on a pedestal Easier to throw stones Be pushed down


They expected me to be grateful For I was the goddess Who ‘could’ do no wrong. ‘Should’ would have been more appropriate.
If I say yes, I am a slut . If I say no, I am a bitch. If I speak up, I am a feminazi. If I don’t speak , I am arrogant.
With eyes brimming with romantic paternalism They revere me , And demand millions of sacrifices That would befit a god. Just treat me like a woman I seemingly shout out with my studied silence From atop the pedestal Which was actually a golden cage For the Iraivi can do no wrong She is a goddess you fools!




Iraivi* - Tamil term for Goddess
So i wrote this during exam times and never had the time to publish it. Thought it would befit the poets united's 'pedestal' theme.

The deep blue ocean

Sue Heck. I have watched around 4 seasons of The Middle now and one character who fascinates me is Sue Heck. On paper , she is a stereotypical beliebing teenager who likes pink and who is what people may typically refer to as a ‘dork’. She tries out for everything and almost never makes any team. And that is what astounds everyone – Sue’s indomitable spirit. She NEVER gives up. Even when she sucks at it. Sometimes to her own detriment.

I am kind of her opposite. More like her tired Mother of three , Frankie. Frankie quits things when they get too tough. She plays out what ‘will’ happen in her head , arrives at her own foregone conclusion and quits. It is pretty sad considering that Frankie is in her mid Forties and that I have just started my Twenties.

Law school does that to you. However , my slightly skewered to my favour contention is that , while being a Frankie is a big NO , aren’t we all really more Frankie than Sue? And what is wrong with quitting with something you are horrible…

Home

4 walls and a door Don’t forget the floor That is the place I live And not my home
Home is where the heart is And lives unequivocally enshrines the self with a warm sense of belonging
No foreboding or fear Can reach me here. I am child once again In this humble abode.

Raucous waves ~~ Sticky sand which won’t leave my slippers The fresh smell of salt in the sea  All welcome me home How can I resist?
Filter coffee Happy dog Loving Grandma That’s what makes my home What makes yours?

If you don’t know , Go search, seek , build !! If you do know , Visit it more often. Treasure the warmth it gives you Even if you live there all the time. Especially If you live there ‘all’ the time.

(image borrowed , not the one of my dog though :P)

Hoping

Hope springs eternal they say Only for those who bloom with sunshine It didn’t Give me a rope already To hang ‘out’ with.
How can Snaps and flashes of happy Really compensate for this life Which is so crappy? Tell me really
I am trying so hard To things not to get under my skin Maybe a dark soul I am For nefarious I feel A true villain I am.
Insatiated with my genesis and growth & Too proud to acknowledge my misery I still give it company I don’t want to give into this darkness Where I seem to navigate seamlessly
When I see a happy person I wanna dent their teeth and Wipe that elusive smile off it Thinking that I grit mine And flash a fake smile and move
So what is the end you may ask? To fit in by killing my self or To stand out by killing myself? Maybe it is to simply wait for a tomorrow


And hope that hope springs from within 

A dollop of darkness and a drop of sunshine.

It has been a long while my friends since I wrote anything in this space. Never has an injury to my right hand (which I have had one too many of ) affected me as much as now. I am impressed with the hunger I feel to write.


I used to be called callous, insensitive Was never happier. The minute I started to give a damn The tragedy started. The tragedy called life Where people you used to love Became completely different persons So much so that You think you wanted a disclaimer That things could go horribly wrong! But maybe this is the disclaimer For the next time. Writing all this, I look in the mirror And see a completely different person Than the years before. Role reversals Shape shifting By the tendrils of time. I want to be who I was And also who I am. A dollop of darkness and a drop of sunshine. Aloof and caring at the same time. How to achieve all this
When I can’t even tie my shoe laces on? 


And to my poets united friends. The post came before the motif. So the explanation maybe a…

To Srimathi

To sudden spurts of unconditional love which truly does conquer all.





You saw the before and after Through my thick and thin Blood Milk and Water You are my little tiny tim 
You excel in liking Every little thing I do. But nonchalantly overlooking The very same things too
Worrying is in your DNA Coolness is your USP The best mom ever to me
You will always be. 


associated  with poet's united motif for this midweek - conquest 

The First Dosa

I would like to thank all my readers - new and old - for the constant support and feedback. Steady Meanderings has gained a new lease of life because of you all. You guys are my biggest blessing! :)

Okay that sounded so cheesy and so unlike me :P

Listening to feedback is very crucial  feel and I have been getting requests to revert back to my long articles and short stories. But you see the problem is that, once you cross over to poetry which is so quaint and beautiful , prose feels cumbersome ugly and crass. If  I can make my point in 50 lovely words , why stretch it out to a 500 inconsequential ones?
What I am saying is that I used to be a story teller but now I've now become a writer. I have been giving importance to style over substance and I know that is not the best thing to happen to me. So I will try to balance both and I am committing to that by registering it here.
Since a cross over from poetry to prose is not the easiest thing ever , I'm going to try to capture th…

Instant

Believe it or not , I cooked this up in an instant.


Instant Coffee
    Instant Noodles
        Instant Gratification
             Always seems alluring.
                  But
        when push comes to shove ,
    Honey! it tastes like crap.

I want to go back to that time ,      you know the time ,      when we had the time 
                                                                     To have slow dripped coffee                                                                       handmade noodles -                                                                       okay , never had time for those -  and slow cook our romance                                                                       on simmer forever
written for sunday scribbling 2  . The prompt was 'instant'. 
pic taken from google.

Silly Billie

Here comes Silly billie* Along the lines of my mojojojo
She was a silly billie * My chikni Chameli , A wild cat to her inner core Untamed by mere homo sapiens.
She unleashed her claws every chance she got Scratching more than the surface of Every person she met. She was a silly billie My very own chikni chameli.
Not a Soft kitty Not a Warm kitty And definitely more than a little ball of fur.
Cats get things done Humans don't .
Queen of the concrete jungle She looked down upon everyone With a smile of smug satisfaction. Silly Billie All behold and worship our very own Chikni Chameli
I miss her though.



* billie in hindi means cat
written for poets united midweek motif 'cats' 

The Predator & The Prey

So the midweek motif in Poets United was ' predator and the prey' and I couldn't ask for a more perfect opportunity to write about this .It is more prosey than poemy but i just wrote what came to my mind. Leave your honest feedback below or I will go mad that nobody cared. Putting myself out there.



I always never liked him The guy who rode me in his auto to school. He acted like he was my boss Bullying and puncturing my soul. Made me sit in the worst positions In his overcrowded rickshaw, On the handrest, above his seat, Even had to share his front seat. My parents never believed me As I had a penchant for fabricating honestly amazing lies. He used to hurl abuses at me, Unnecessarily delay taking me home, He even drank on duty. No one ever believed me. Then one day he started asking me for ten bucks And pestered me incessantly Till I gave him some. This became a habit. I gave up complaining to my parents altogether. He used to make fun of me in front of others But I wasn’t a sile…