Sangeetha Kamath

                      SPLINTERED PAGES So I didn't get any writing done yesterday. I have scores of messy drafts, but for the life of me, I just couldn't churn out a couple of presentable sentences let alone a paragraph. I wrote, I striked it out, I rewrote, I deleted....and it went on and on a handful of times. I could have berated myself for breaking the chain and beaten myself to death about it. But I said something else to myself instead--- "Take a break, just so that you don't break!" The mind is always a chatter box pushing you to the brink of overthinking. It was at it once I shut down my process of typing and quit sitting in front of a blank screen. "Oh no, Writing block?!! What if I never write again", it said I had to silence the voice in my head kindly with a  "No, that would just be an excuse not to do something that I passionately believe in". Practically speaking, sometimes everybody just needs to take a step bac...

 Just when that stray day comes along, where I underestimate myself for not having any writing done, there pops the first post on my newsfeed as an angelic answer.  It says "Writing takes weeks and even months of hard work of writing and editing. If I ever again think of quitting, I should see what I've accomplished so far". It's okay to take a break when I feel overwhelmed and it's also more than okay to feel anxious when I don't write, don't know how to express myself.  That's my current status these days and the post came as a timely motivation. There are phases like these when there's a wide gap between days, call it a partial hiatus from writing. "Writers shouldn't take it hard on themselves", he tells me. A single day doesn't define me when I've had more good writing days than bad.  It's definitely not about flawlessness. It's a rare piece of writing that dazzles instantly, but persistence is key if it doesn'...

                      FROM RICHES TO RAGS I was squashed. The deadweight on top of me was suffocating. I wanted to scream out in pain, but couldn't. What about my heartbreak? Did anyone hear it crack and tinkle to pieces? I didn't know that a day would come when I would be treated in this manner. Hadn't I been in this household for a generation? Sigh… I remember that day clearly when Amos brought me home. I had stepped inside, amazed at the beautifully done interiors. It spoke volumes that I would be loved and cherished here. I had a separate room to rest too with my own intricately carved antique bed. I was thrilled to bits. Amos treated me like a queen. The next day, I was given a makeover. Amos had returned home with a package. It contained a beautiful sheer gown for me. I looked beautiful in it. It didn't hide the beauty that I already was on the inside.  "I want everyone to treat Ms. Booker kindly and delicately. All ...

Self Discovery 30 Day Writing Challenge What keeps you awake at night? Nothing! I'm Nocturnal.  Call me a Night Owl if you may.  The stillness and the silence of the night speak volumes to me. It's when I see the pale moon rising with it's hazy halo outside my window that I reach out for my writing pad and lucky pen.  It's in the pearly moonlight, the twinkling of the stars and the soft, cool breeze that my storylines and poems come flooding to me. It's at a magical moment like this when I'm at a loss for words and at the same time have to keep my writing pace with my thoughts pouring in at galloping speed. It's now that the ambience is perfect to draw inspiration from or a conclusion to arrive at. With nothing to disturb me and no chores to distract me, I can listen more intently to the whispers of my subconscious mind.  It's at this time, that I choose to stay alone with my thoughts and my inner dialogues to write my Memoirs. That was the precise pat...

                THE CELESTIAL AMPHORA Woodlands of bare trees like ballerinas poise Icy serenade of crystalline snowflakes add to our joys North winds are frosty, yet snowfall shows me her beauty Transient frozen lake bounce off each nascent sunray Even as I snuggle into warm duvets, I can't help but dream of summer hats Robins are the only splash of red under a dove grey sky, memories of summer linger as the days go by. Skies are bluer and the grass is greener, early morning light rings in chirps and chatter Parade of blooms and chorus of birds, the colours deepen with change in season Rain-washed empyrean and lushness of trees, give way to golden rays and fragrant breeze Iris, daffodils and pansies of every hue, there are tulips, buttercups and bluebells too New leaves sprout in the March air, it is the blush of every flora; a resplendent fare Gentle spring sun banishes gloom and chill to memory, vivid petals dance to glory. Sunlit meadows and c...

                        DUST ! Sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor She looks up to marvel at the smidgens of dust It floats towards the skylight in the roof... Oh wait! Or is floating like a beam from above? Time is lost in this wonder and fantasy Sparkles and shine, imagination running a mile "Tiny fairies", she says to herself "Or is it fairy dust that they sprinkle on me?" Three decades later and some, she wonders at the dust They've lost their shine, now dull and drab She scrubs them clean, yet they return To settle heavily shrouding her dream He runs a finger on the table-top Oh! She'd missed a spot! The fine layer colours his thumb grey It's in stark contrast to her reddening cheeks There aren't anymore skylights Only opaque ceilings which conceal the billowing dust Reduced to nothingness, do fairies exist she queries. Of course they do, her heart whispers feebly "Haven't you seen the fairy dust ages ago? Even the f...