Of escapism.

Copyrights belong to Audi Photography

When you are dangling from the edge, just about to tip over the ledge, what do you do to escape? Do you close your eyes and hope for the danger to pass? Or do you give yourself something to distract until help arrives?

Very so often, I’ve realized, when I’m thrown into a bad place, I seek escape through distraction. And talking to my best friend I found out we both have a similar choice of escapism.

 A book. Not a profound book. Not a classic novel. Just a book with a light story, with happiness and jokes, with silly problems and dramatic solutions. A book like Princess Diaries or the Mediator series in my case. Meg Cabot, really.

Others binge watch movies or TV shows. Escaping into another world. Just for a few hours each day, for that very much needed breathing space.

And then I ask. Is escapism good? Is it the way we survive? Our coping mechanism? Our way of looking after ourselves when we no longer can put up with reality and need some time off this world. I don’t know. But it makes me happy. It makes me light. It calms me down. In the end that is what should matter, right? What should it be: escaping or standing your ground and taking all the unnecessary hits? I’d rather escape so I can come back and stand my ground and swing back at the hits. Don't you agree?

#NaPoWriMo 3

Copy Rights vest with Audi Photography

Burnt patches of beauty

scars are beautiful, they promised

it is testimony.

and she wore them like jewels,

burnt patches of persistence-

not crying out, not dissolving into mush

move on move on, forward forward.

the silver lining will show

the scars will turn butterflies

someday soon, she promised herself

she will come out mighty fine

as strong as a brick gone through a kiln.

Hide not, disguise not, she resolved

let the world know-

scars are beautiful, it is testimony-

of what happened,

of fighting through.

#2 NaPoWriMo 2016

Copyright belongs to Audi Photography

Drenched in midsummer sunset hue,  

returning home,
I drive with the petrichor in the air,
already I smell her jasmine studded hair. 
 
I hear the soft tinkle of the anklets,
as she hurries to find me at the gate,
a smile of relief greets me,
I laugh- what danger is there?

                                           -Manisha

#1Napowrimo 2016

 Maybe its a tab bit late, but I think I'll give  NaPoWriMo a try this year. 

Copyrights belong to Audi Photography

Old is gold, like a silly joke

At the end of all things old, scraping for the leftovers,

a window of opportunity- to save or not to?

A place with no space, why hold on to bygones,

urbanization observing nostalgia will do.

Great things made by hand, pictures only proof,

Children will forget,

old is gold? What a silly joke, they’ll say. 

-Manisha