Rucha Bindu

I may not always feel and talk, and listen and feel, but I always feel and write, and read and feel.
  • Passing by the Cemetery
    Rucha Bindu | 12-Nov-2017
    Passing by the cemetery on a day, content and whole My heart wonders if what it sees is Merely a cross over the caged bodies; Or wings of liberty spread by the freed soul...  
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  • Moments
    Rucha Bindu | 13-Nov-2017
    That moment when your maid's ringtone is cooler than yours... 
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  • The Chance
    Rucha Bindu | 07-Feb-2018
    » Long
    There she was, dressed immaculately, unvaryingly seated in the first row With trembling, old fingers holding her favourite pen touching a blank page of her illegible manuscript. A man with the badge gave her a familiar glance but little did she know; Because only when the bibliophile’s ears caught the words of the maiden poetry, her eyes she would lift.   In turn with the other they recited poems, verses and tales; Of joy and of pain, Of mislay and of gain. They divulged dreams, ambitions, love and magic By rhyming words, which they thought was the only logic. While the boys spoke of love and loss, The girls spoke about why the society needs a female boss. She smiled and she sobbed, as demanded by the words on the stage; Her eyes shone with admiration for the courage shown by their young age.   “Any more verses?”, asked the young man with the badge. His eyes beholding the reticent, and this time she did know; Her hands now shivered with agitation as she headed for
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  • Convincement
    Rucha Bindu | 28-Feb-2018
    Before trying to convince someone of something, make sure that it convinces you first.
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  • Her
    Rucha Bindu | 08-Mar-2018
    She loved fashion, but in her own fashion. She didn't believe in tight pants But in baggy night pants. She didn't admire light and glamour, But quick wit and humour. Because all the things that touched her heart Had nothing to do with looks. She loved the fragrance of wild flowers And that of old books.
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  • World Poetry Day
    Rucha Bindu | 21-Mar-2018
    Poetry is to literature As salt is to food!
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  • Siblings- Learning the Art of Trade
    Rucha Bindu | 24-Apr-2018
    What is it like to have a younger sibling? I feel younger siblings were created to take you seriously when you're joking and to joke when you're serious. They were created to irritate every nerve in your body, and to bring you water in bed while you trade something for the future (which you never intend to give.) They were created to lose your favorite little things, and to make you sign that remark in their diary in place of your parents, which they obviously wouldn't approve of. But also to keep your secrets which your parents wouldn't approve of (and you, being the elder one, try to act cool like they already know so that your sibling wouldn't use that as a trade.) My younger sister asks me to decide what I'll be gifting her for her birthday exactly six months prior to it- by the way, my birthday falls in that six months period but who cares, right? But, I don't need to ask. It's already there, the gift that I've always wanted, near my birthday cake, and a shabbily done last minute birthday card with a d
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  • Let's Live!
    Rucha Bindu | 07-Jun-2019
    Let's sit in a park and sing our heart out. Let's make music that lures the childlike spirit of passers by. Let's rhyme to the sound of chirping birds and dance to the tune of applause.  Let's do what we're here for, let's live!
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