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I turned 40 last month. It was a weird and wonderful feeling.
Weird because, as a kid, 40 meant an age when you start feeling/acting old. An age where you start to think more about endings than beginnings. Nothing of that sort happened, I am feeling exactly the opposite: younger than ever, more in command and control of my emotions. Just a bit more sorted in the head.
Wonderful because I’m experiencing a phase of “experienced youth”. 40 has turned me into a magician: I am reliving my youth without the insecurities and superficialities.

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The past plays tricks on me,
Letting out of its hat,
Just the things I want to see.

Making me believe,
I was cut into half,
When, in fact,
The mirror was playing its
Part.

Concealing from Now,
sometimes pain, oftentimes pleasure,
Giving them a different life
and different names altogether.

Unconvinced of my role
I blame it on destiny,
Written by a cruel monster,
Pleasures too few,
And griefs too many.

But the pen is with me,
So is the paper,
I am the magician,
Neither my past,
Not my present,
Not even my future.

©Pavitra Baxi 2021

This post is a part of #Write52. A commitment to write something worth sharing. Find out more: https://www.write52.com/

The weird and wonderful summers of Bengaluru: breezy mornings;  stuffy mid-mornings; scorching hot afternoons; thunderously wet evenings that make way for silent and comfortable nights. A few bright blooms hang around long after the spring beauties have left; bugs aplenty and birds going full throttle at the mating game — there is never a dull moment.

Ms. Cool-Blue breeze
Plays hide and seek
Early in the morning.

Vanishing, as the sun comes up,
she leaves us with promises
she doesn’t intend to keep

The sun starts work,
at 10 am sharp
to make the air stiff and stuffy.

He peaks at noon,
To boil us bare,
And make our tempers go off too soon.

The clouds descend
As if on cue,
To save us from his wrath.

But Mr. Sun, is not someone
To give up something —
so easily, so soon.

The wind too, is livid,
At Sun’s bossiness;
He blows in and out, and all around
Upending all that comes his way.

By evening time,
The clouds decide
to take matters into their hand.

In bursts and spurts
the rain comes down
to ease us off our pain

As the clouds silence —
the sun and the wind
And the night descends

Ms. Cool-Blue breeze decides,
to make an appearance again.

©Pavitra Baxi 2020

This post is a part of #Write52. A commitment to write every week something worth sharing. Find out more: https://www.write52.com/

Claustrophobia has a new name: the mask.

As masks become mandatory in our lives and of those around us, we need to adopt a new form of communication. Muffled words and voices mean that our eyes have to take on the additional task of talking. Since eyes are the proverbial windows to our soul, our deepest, darkest feelings and emotions are on constant display and can no longer be supported or protected by words.

I wrote a poem on this new form raw and unguarded communication.

As we cover our faces and our lives,
only thing communicating
are our eyes.

Fear, frustration,
love and lust,
are easy to decipher,
difficult to cover up.

Can’t hide behind words
and their meanings.
We are on our own,
so are our feelings.

Looking up from
our phones
we speak a different language —
A direct one,
not sophisticated.

The new normal
is changing us once again,
to be more genuine,
not to be fake.

©Pavitra Baxi 2020

This post is a part of #Write52. A commitment to write every week something worth sharing. Find out more: https://www.write52.com/

This week’s post is dedicated to you, wordsmiths! Amidst the chaos and the uncertainty, we only have the comfort of your words. Our body is under a lockdown; the only way to experience the outside world is through your words. Write more — for yourself, for me, for everyone.

Do you feel no one is interested in your words, especially now? I am here to assure you, that I do and I can say it’s true for a million others too.

The streets are empty
our homes are crowded
despair, fear and uncertainty
keeping hope shrouded

A handshake and a hug
A physical connect with the outside world
Is no longer advised or done

Your words:
In bits and bytes,
in print and voice,
bring us together in our isolation

When will it end?
No one knows
Only reassurance is
your words are there

to bring a smile
to help us cope
to make us dream and hope

March forth soldiers!
Protect us,
Distract us,
Engulf us in your words

Now more than ever.

©Pavitra Baxi 2020

This post is a part of #Write52. A commitment to write every week something worth sharing. Find out more: https://www.write52.com/