Documenting 1.3 : Our Story by Antara and Sourjya

Hi everyone!

Recently, Papercup held its Poetry Slam 0.5 at Oxford bookstore and me and Sourjya decided to participate. This is my second time slamming and Sourjya’s first. Hope you guys like it. 🙂

Love, Antara.

( )


There were fights

When I was 6.

Angry slurs and misinterpreted

Dreams. Big words in the big world.

I used to cry a lot

And my brother held me

Hugged me and promised that

Everything would be all right.


He was right.


When there were people

Eating me up with their

Inquisitions… I

felt like packing my bag

My crayons, my books, my toothbrush

And just leave. They were bad people.

Nosy people.

Breaking my globe into two pieces.

Probing us to choose sides.

Brother scolded; knocked

sense into their heads.

They left me alone.

No buzz in my head anymore.


Brother, the savior.


I was 13 then. I’m 20 now.

We’re grown adults.

My 30 year old brother still

Saves me when

I’m grasping for air.

When the demons are back.

When I have accepted the raging war

to be my own. He shakes me as if

waking me up from a bad dream.

His shoulders droopy from the world’s weight

His eyes sunk. His lips battling to fake a smile.


I can see his tears when I fight back.


We don’t talk about friends,

lovers or troubling matters.

We don’t take cigarette breaks together

We don’t get high. Our shoes are

rooted and caged to the ground.

We don’t need to talk. He


He hears without me saying.

The moment I slip. The moment

the life-ending thoughts pour

into my veins… I know

he’ll rush and grab my hand

And pull me out of the sealed jar.


“I’m messed up.” I croak.

“I know. But I’m still here.”

“Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly”

Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, as if a million miles away. Somewhere far off you can smell flowers burning. And poppy seeds popping.
It reminds you of home.

Someone tugs at your sari. You remain seated at your desk with your head resting on your crossed arms. Someone should come back later.

Someone tugs again. This time, a lil impatiently.
You look up. It’s Sree.
You pat her and she sits down at the end of your chair chewing the end of your sari, satisfied.

That somebody calls you again. A faltering, softer call.
You sit up, startled.
You stare at your step-child, failing to answer for a while.

“..yes, baby?”


P.S. – The song I was listening to- Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles.
P.P.S. – It’s a Daily Post challenge. The challenge was to take the third line of the last song I heard, make it my post title and write for a maximum of 15 minutes.

This and That

You know how it’s weird the way certain movies have this sudden impact on you. It’s like you have no control over your feelings anymore. You become a walking-talking part of the movie.

Some movies are just beautiful.

I watched two movies today. Monster University. Coz well, first, cuddly monsters. And second, I could totally relate to Mike Wazowski (in some parts).
The other one – The Pursuit of Happyness
. It made me sad to see Chris suffer. And I sat quietly in my sad bubble long after the movie was over (though it ended on a happy note). But it’s a wonderful movie and one I should have watched ages ago.

Anyway, tomorrow is my first day @ JU. Hopefully classes will be fun and I will absolutely love it.
*fingers crossed*

All that aside, here’s something my best friend made for me-

Loads of love,
Antara 🙂

To My Love

The day has gone; the night sings to me
On the sill I sit, patiently.

Moonface sucks her thumb – up any minute now
Yellow tresses of worrying stresses – holes with empty dancing laces.

Lover dear – my believer, my trust, my lone rock
On quivering lips laced with assuring knock
Voice dipped in tea, voiceless in sea,
Everlasting love, I write to thee.


So, it doesn’t have to end.
The sun kissed lanes
Between your fingers
The valleys, the cotton-candy spring
Gliding down your crevices.

Surely, it didn’t have to end.

The mid-march battle-math.
The soft brazen destiny
In your palm,
Fistful wishes
Wishes feasted upon.
Roma, it didn’t have to end.

It didn’t. It didn’t.
Perhaps, it did?
( Nonsense! )
The waggy tailed
Insatiable letters
Mock me.

Pink world
Red leaved; narrow black mist
Whistling whisking into a pulp
Beat. Beat. Beat.
Roma, they mock me.

I painted my nails
The colour of the sky
The stars are you Roma-
Calming the nooks and
corners of me. Panjabi
pockets of sun-burnt
flowers; glimpses of
half-kissed afternoons.
I’m drowning in the by-lanes.

Roma, did it have to end?
Perhaps it didn’t.


Chocolate Wars

So, my sister-in-law makes chocolates at home. And she is super good at it :3
which also means I get to taste the oh-so-delicious chocolates every time she is cooking and baking 😀

And since she is awesome at it, she has decided to sell them 😀
Lalalalalaaaaa ^_^

So, suppose you enter a store to buy a gift, what would you go for? The branded ones? Since you already know how they taste. Or would you be adventurous and go for the Home-made ones? 🙂

This is what I made (I’m a good learner YO B| ) –


And here’s her blog link –