The power of reinvention

Image for post
Eagle | Credit: Klappe from Pixabay

Why does the idea of flight excite us humans so much? We are well aware that our physical bodies are incapable of flying like birds. Yet flying is a recurrent event in our dreams; we feel like we are “flying” when we are giddy with elation. The beauty of the human mind is in its ability to dream despite its logical reasoning of what is possible. Perhaps this attitude of the human mind (to not take no for an answer) is what has led to the almost magical reality we live in today, filled with phenomenal technological advancements.

The mental…


Should I bow in gratitude or grieve in solitude as I receive the gift of life?

Image for post
Credit: Daniel Hannah from Pixabay

Should I bow in gratitude
Or grieve in solitude
As I receive the gift of life?

Should I overlook the misery,
Empty bowels of the treasury;
Turn deaf ears to the screams of strife?

Should I disregard a child’s glee,
Get outside the shade of the tree,
And dig up a grave of sorrow?

Should I forget all of my sins,
Flush away dead skins,
And start anew tomorrow?

Should I abandon memories of a smiling brother,
Bury a loving wife and mother
To walk through the door of closure?

Should I give up all wish and hope, Endure life…

“All good things come to those who wait.” — Paullina Simons

Image for post
Great Blue Heron | Waiting | Credit: Nature-Pix from Pixabay

Good things take time
As they sometimes do,
Days may turn grey,
Your toast may burn, too,
As you get lost in the maze
Of your mind — 
The one that pulls at you
When you slightly unwind
From your makeshift calm,
A constructed wall
To help you forget
That long, painful fall.
Like a determined ant
Pecking at its food,
Your head gnaws at you
Sucking out all good.
You force a smile
To fool the others — 
It takes a while,
But some see your colors.
The day shall arrive
When it wants to;
Just wait by the door
So it can’t walk past you.


“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” — Semisonic

Image for post
“Spiraling with echoes of charisma and lovely charm” | Credit: Free-Photos from Pixabay

One fine day, now a lost Monday,
A thought struck like lightning
Brilliant as day.
Sending thoughts sailing…

Fast as the furious fire,
Fiery as the ferocious fog,
Feisty as the depraved vixen,
To attend to things that needed fixing.

There lay a lone little house
Far cry from glorious warmth, in icy hold,
With vile infestations of roach and mice
Sobbing soundless tears in the hearthless cold.

A lump did rise in the throat
That walked into the gloom that was room
To a thousand memories that were afloat —
Spiraling with echoes of charisma and lovely charm.


“College is the reward for surviving high school.” — Judd Apatow

Image for post
The College Avenue | Credits: Pixelbug NIT Trichy

With your sunny smile,
And your sweaty arms,
You waved from over a mile
With your ever rocky palms.

A despondent I went closer,
Lost in melancholic thought.
You beckoned me to come faster;
I plastered a smile and prayed to God.

Your sandy scent reached my nose;
Your throaty greet entered my eardrums;
Your eyes, rivers of serene consciousness
Lit up your face into the May blossoms.

I felt the air grow hot
As your visage became clear —
Prepared, I was not
I realized as I drew near.


“Life is not an easy road. But, with the right companion, we can make it a joy ride.”
― S.Kolla

Image for post
Credit: Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

I’m by her side As she surfs new turf; I am her guide Leading her to scenic locales. I am her friend Through moments tense and carefree; I overextend To cover her splurges across the sea. I am a domestic dog Wagging my tail at her lovingly, Needing an occasional tug When I decide to throw a fit. I walk by her Day and night, I’m there for her When no one’s in sight. She can find in me The things she thought she lost — She can discover in me Delightful surprises from her past. I am a journal…


My (spoiler-free) take on the Netflix anthology film

Image for post
“Paava Kadhaigal (Sin stories)” | Credit: Trend Around Us

What if you are in a dark room, and there’s no way out? What if every door you’re struggling to open is met with a sharp blow to your fingers? What if it’s done by someone who is supposed to help you get out of the room in the first place?

At the fag end of this eventful year, there isn’t much left to say or do. We have experienced fear, anxiety, concern, subsided anxiety (not calm), then a little peace amidst family, some quiet moments of solitude (although rare), and the occasional rhythms of the humdrum of life on…


A short story

Image for post
Credit: Lorenzo Cafaro from Pixabay

I got into my SUV and turned on the engine. The familiar drone drowned out my musings as I began steering the wheel, heading nowhere in particular.

“It’s really not okay to waste fuel just to soothe your mind, you know? There are people who’ll probably utilize it better. I mean, we aren’t exactly rich — ”

“Oh, stop it! I’ll try my best to keep it short. You know I’ve been trying very hard, right?”

“Why do you want my acceptance? You know what you’ve been doing; you know what’s right and wrong.”

“Ughh” I mumbled.

I knew she…


And her ungrateful child

Image for post
“Poor, was the dark night, devoid of light and sheen” | Credit: Pexels from Pixabay

The dark velvety night
Births every day,
A new world
Filled with all the light
She fought to keep,
To nurture
Her next of kin —
The birthed morrow —
Filled with more sorrow
Than the night’s ungrateful child
Upon which she last oozed her light.

Poor, was the dark night,
Devoid of light and sheen;
With her meagre diet of stardust
And a little dose of moonshine,
Nurturing over and over,
Hoping for a more grateful lover,
A miracle child
She can keep forever.


’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” — Alfred Lord Tennyson

Image for post
“We were companions on an adventure we didn’t know we were taking.” | Credit: S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

Everyday he would follow me
With sly glances at my shy face.
He would enamor me, entice me,
Trick me into smiling at his glowing skin.

“The bus would jostle our journey —
Up and down, up and down,
While you steal glances and I steal mine,
Peeking through my pages before hitting town.”

Our connection held special meaning
No words, no sound, no notes, nothing —
We were companions on an adventure
We didn’t know we were taking.

“Many starry nights later I still hold you dear in my eyes. When I open them, there you are, Shining your…

Abhinaya S.B.

A reader, a writer, a nature lover.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store