Mom in kodai

Mom has become quite the photographer. These are her pics from her recent trip to kodaikanal in Tamil Nadu , India.

Mom herself


Unhappy days

By WordWomit

Hi. This is WordWomit here . I thank Devil’s Paradise for providing me a platform. I plan to share more of my work with y’all soon. This is partly inspired by ‘unhappy refrain’ in Imaginary garden with Real Toads and partly inspired by my shitty mood.


Fuck this shit

Writing or typing

Does it really matter

When I can nail the words

And make it shatter.

‘Content’ is a bad word

Words stripped naked of their beauty

Clinically laid out for all to see.

All this war for words

Is just misplaced anger

Like most wars are anyways.


Someone poured cement inside me

I cannot move at all

And that doesn’t stop me from shouting

And yelling and brawling and crawling.

I wanna yank myself out

One piece at a time?

The more I struggle

More I get strangled

What is this weird feeling in my stomach?

Trepidation that sits about as well as turpentine.

A sense of hopelessness building to a crescendo

And makes me punch my hand through many a walls.

This unclarity is only a given

And the reactions to it more so

Still the feeling persists

And make me sea sick.

I would puke and be done with it

But I drank no water hey.

Will this go away

Or will I fade  away

Only to awaken

When the lights don’t come again.



Steady waves unfurl in

the oceans of unconscious

The mind twirls the soul

and the soul comes to moan

Dark waters

Black matter

Yet all I see is the Inkblot splatter


Why is my well so toxic

I worry my Freudian wonders

Our lobes are continents

which we fail to explore

afraid what more adorns

this reservoir of repressed thoughts and emotions

Oh! Who would want to sail this darned ocean?

Thought no explorer ever.

For the worse

 By Naveena Pradeep


I have seen the world at peace,

I have seen the way it is

Watched it through my eyes

Moving round at ease.

People change as its moving

Stop loving each other

No one likes to stay

They’re no more together

As they try and look for shortcuts

To reach heaven in the worst ways

Each one of them going nuts

As they’re playing part in the play

May it cost a big fortune

Even then, they’ll reach the moon

Just to buy a piece of it

So as to call it their own .

Wonder, to think there was a time

Or could it have been just a dream

The earth and every regular sight

Every life use to glitter as the lights

Have become things I can see nomore.

Like a page in a book, somebody tore.

Good among evil grows

As a rainbow that comes and goes

Foes among your closest friends,

Has become humans latest trend.

Always singing the same verse

Continuing with the same old curse

But people keep changing for the worse.




By Bhuvana from the ‘untold forever’ collection 


Fate ( image borrowed from google)

Disappeared in the darkness of the mist
I search for destiny
Lying about estranged from view
Hide n seek of agony
I try hard n win it over
But yet trip over n yet fall
And wait for unrepaired chances
Which never comes at asll
Melancholy strips nude in the valley of darkness
Luck suddenly appears with a veil and long flowery attire..
I smile at it with embracing hands ..
And believe that the soothing linen with cast its spell
Of richness and probability
Of everything that is going to be well…
I stand alone with the will to fight
Oh armour of fate..come with all might
For the reason of existence is my belief ..that
You by my side for another new firm relief…

Quandaries of a 11 year old


March 23 2006

I so wanna write a kewl story and be the next Enid Blyton!!( Do you know her she is my rolemodel. For a long time though , I thought she was a he. ) The problem  quandary*  of being a 11 year old is that everything I write seems to be related to her characters and I feel like that is copying!

My teacher says that if I just take the idea and develop the ‘plot’ myself and Indianize my characters it will not be copying in the ‘strict’ sense.  But I like that my book’s title is ” Inspector Jenks and the 5 truth seekers” There must be an inspector Jenks in India? Aren’t we the land of many people?

I also like my characters to eat scones and eclairs. Do you know that eclairs , the chocolate we eat ( which I thought was what Enid was talking about) is named after the English dish of the same name?!?! My friend Rasika told me the other day and I got really embrassed when I didn’t know.

I don’t like my stories to ever end.  I started one about 2 thieves back in 4th standard ( I used to be so ‘lame’. I used to write each line with a different coloured glitter pen) and I still haven’t finished it. I feel very sad to end their adventure. Then it will be like they don’t exist anymore.

My best stories are those which I take with myself when I go to sleep. I develop them in my head and they are totally awful! ( I think the word awful means full of awe , I picked it up when my elder brother was talking on the phone)  One such story is about Cyclops the magic bicycle with superpowers which has a life of its own. There is also this supercool school bag into which you can type what you want and the gift comes out in a cd tray! Cool right?

When I told my anna ( elder brother) all this only losers like me will read such stories. So I ran to my appa ( dad) and told him what anna said. Appa is very nice but takes my library books from my bag and read so very fast! I like to beat him by reading faster.

Appa said , ” So you want to become an author? What kind of books you want to write? ” I told him I want to write detective books as books on hostels ( like Mallory towers) were very sad. ” So a children’s author! You will be great at it Madhu.”

I was very shocked. I asked him don’t adults like him read Enid Blyton?!?! He said adults read about romance ( like Nancy Drew I think) , adult detectives and thrillers. I felt so dumb like a ‘loser’ anna thinks I am. It was like the time  I thought all books had illustrations in them ( which I think should be the ‘status quo’ )

But this is so exciting!! There are so many things I don’t know about books and I am called a book worm. I want to know about everything in the world as fast as I can. And be a not loser for once.

After a decade of quest for the all empowering knowledge and true realities she wished she were 11 again. To be that young and naive and full of madness and have the audacity to dream stories like ‘cyclops’. Madhumita of 2016 can never produce a cyclops. She would be stuck in the practicalities and perceptions of the readers.

Oh how I wish I were 11 again!


( Quandary – a difficult situation; a practical dilemma*)