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  • galvanizedthoughts 33m

    Ye cake Hain
    Ye hum Hain
    Ye humari pawri horahi hain

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  • galvanizedthoughts 1w

    I need to find people who took science till 12th and did something else afterwards Do you anyone in Mirakee/ real life. Tag them. Let them know that I am considering a second opinion.

    I have taken PCM and have recently found interest in finance and business.

    Also to every pcm person. What are your plans? Feel free to share them. Also please let me know what are the opportunities their in business and finance and also if possible media management
    Let's talk about colleges, universities their cutoffs and opportunities available

    Source of pic @/ mariannamadriz
    This will be a permanent post so people like me can gather help. Share as much as possible
    Tag people who might give useful information related to colleges universities cutoffs and more.

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  • galvanizedthoughts 1w

    you have traded different parts of yourself
    to all the places you have visited
    you see,
    places are as real as any character
    that you would read
    in fiction, poetry, fantasy
    crime, thriller or even horror
    each place is a genre on its own
    so when I said that I am leaving
    you glanced at me
    a mother looks
    at her wayward son
    you glanced at me
    the way mountains do
    as they look past their lover's shoulder
    you held unto me
    the way the rivers do
    holding unto the demolished Gods
    pacifying it in its embrace
    yet you tug
    there is this invisible silence
    that penetrates
    like bullets ricocheting
    across nepotistic skies and nihilistic blues
    you see, You remind me of Siliguri
    both, ascetic and aesthetic
    in the life bustling Hong Kong market
    or the crowded streets of Sevoke and Bidhan
    but my favourite view of you
    is from the rooftop
    where the pinnacle of Kanchenjunga
    is still visible to this day
    where the voice still resonates
    in the hearts of the mayhem
    a penance worthy enough to be paid
    in the lost and found box
    this morning a chit I found
    it reads you my dear
    are SILIGURI
    - Ayushi Saha
    © Galvanizedthoughts Ayushi Saha
    8th April 2020 14.30 pm

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod #travelogue #wod #gtwn
    A very old post of mine on hometown
    Illustration by @/tinyfarmstudio on ig

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  • galvanizedthoughts 2w

    Reverse engineering a woman, a poem

    (I)

    This poem is no crash course
    Nor does it come with a starter package
    Or a reader’s manual / guide
    Much like the Whatsapp forwarded jokes
    Of a man searches in google
    ‘How to control your wife’
    And google has zero search results
    This poem is as dry as your sense of humour
    And the repetitive need of controlling
    All the woman around you
    This poem is dry
    As dry as the summer nights
    Where the ac fails to work
    And you have lived enough
    To see the nights treachery
    And died enough to mourn for the dawn
    This poem is the discomfort
    As you switch positions
    And end up curled in the foetal position
    Imitating a mother’s womb
    This poem is the fundamental human instinct
    Of demanding familiar physical touch
    Yet as the Sun arises
    And the leaves sway with the wind
    It only reminds you of women swaying hips
    The type you would secretly ogle
    As you come across lingerie posters
    And underwear adds
    When you think no one is watching
    But we women always know
    Call it a woman’s instinct
    For last summer a girl of 14
    Had her first menstruation and the
    Whole village celebrated her ripening / fertility
    The next day as she sits on the local bus
    To school, the journey feels a little longer
    A little more unnerving
    And suddenly the bus ticket collector’s gaze
    Feels a little more disturbing
    As her stomach churns unpleasantly
    As she notices a man thrice her age
    Staring at her and then at his manhood
    She pulls her skirt further down
    And the man grins
    That pure predatory grimace
    Her heart shudders and mouth shutters
    She’s felt fear
    Fear of being a woman
    For the first time
    After all ripened mangoes must fall of the tree
    Suddenly he stares at his handkerchief
    And the name of his wife
    Woven with strings borrowed from the Sun’s ray
    And he looks away as the girl descends down the bus


    ( II)
    Close your eyes gently
    What happens when you think of the word W-O-M-A-N
    Do you see women running?
    Running in wheat fields or mustard
    if you are that creative
    as their lovesick lovers run behind
    close your eyes or have them done so
    by a woman seductively,
    as she feeds you grapes and what not
    do you see woman with purple skin
    and neon highlights as hair
    whiskers and ears of a cat
    political and profound
    or do you find them
    shying away, their cheeks now a pomegranate
    as you pull their drape
    or do you find them sitting
    sitting at a family function
    all nice and tidy
    even when the touches are far from acceptable
    or even decent, do you find them cowering away
    Or do you find them with their hands shaking
    Eyes downcast as they give you the glass of milk
    And crushed almonds on their wedding night
    are they feminists and feral?
    Are they submissive or dominative?
    Are they bottom or top?
    Are they shy or a tease?
    the girl and the woman
    the girl with the woman
    the girl now the woman
    are all this poem
    with no syllable count
    Nor even your aabb ccdd
    they do not rhyme
    they don’t need to
    but in the kingdom of poems
    where the rhymes sits as a monarch
    and creativity will be a slave
    where every syllable shall praise
    As haiku's and limericks giggle
    Over a cup of masala chai
    this poem will be a prude, an outlaw
    and when they shall search this poem
    They'll raid it's home, it's identity
    It's origin and individuality
    And after they have checked all the surveillance devices
    CCTV footage and of course the internet
    strip a poem, you will find a woman
    Strip a woman, you will find a free verse.

    © Ayushi Saha 16 February 2021 1:42 am
    @/galvanizedthoughts

    @writersnetwork #pod @mirakee #gtwn

    I'm not back. Just wrote this because I wanted to and I could.
    Illustration by @/ richakashelkar on IG
    I'm starting to hate everything I write
    Stop deleting your posts beautiful hooman. Or else I will shave your eye brows

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  • galvanizedthoughts 5w

    Affair under armpits


    A boy peers in
    Through a key hole
    And watches a
    a lady of the household
    undress as if she were
    unfolding an origami masterpiece
    she stands sturdy and delicate
    like the original origami paper
    as the pupils dilate to stalk and eat
    the vulnerability etched in her skin
    the sun a seer stands watching helplessly
    as the lady sways her hips
    the boy swears that only the rings of Saturn
    the ones he had read from a borrowed encyclopedia
    would be an ideal waistband
    the thighs as enticing as boneless chicken
    and the river of delight that flows in between
    the breasts, the cleavage
    the buttermilk like skin
    as her body, the colour of his favourite biscuits
    his lady love is blessed by goddess Rati herself
    as he looks away, the boy now is a man
    a man who laughs at extra virgin anything
    Extra virgin Marie, oil and drinks
    and watches movies where boys like him
    would turn into men after stalking and ogling
    domestic women in the household who would bend
    and peer in through keyholes
    the keyhole now a father to their manhood
    once in a while they would find themselves gazing
    at the blasphemous pit of hair under her velvety arms and remember
    the days they would trace their feet in the lush grass
    and chase the winds and kites alike
    and stay under the armpits of the night skies
    until they saw a lady of the household
    bending to pick the clothes and tieng them to the strings
    the white saree tracing her voluptuous curves
    as they no longer remained just a boy
    © Ayushi Saha 23.01.2021 11.30 am

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

    Reviews and feedback is very much welcome
    Illustration by @/ tinyfarmstudio on IG
    @my_cup_of_poetry @khola_hawa

    Hair under armpits is a metaphor to show how much of a taboo this subject is and how often it is undermined and overshadowed. We often try to shave the hair under our arms, and also sweat and bad smell often accumulates there and we try to cover it with deodorant. So hair under armpits basically refers to something unpleasant that we try to hide in order to appear more appealing. The way we try to hide the blatant sexualising of MILs, DILs, Sisters maids etc

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  • galvanizedthoughts 7w

    To Indus and her daughters

    Historians have named civilisations after you
    in your honour
    and burnt your daughters as honour killings
    Your slender waist daughters
    Milky as the crane that gracefully bends
    Men as natural fisherman who would row
    Near your fertile banks
    Trying to catch their daily meal
    If he catches none
    His family shall starve
    Thus, he doesn’t care about the world of fishes
    Nor the families of those fishes
    He has a family to feed
    Trapping fishes in a sophisticated web of deceit
    Rivers and girls
    Rivers under girls
    Rivers in girls
    We are the fish and the bay
    There’s a woodpecker who chucks the wood
    it doesn’t know what the crane on one leg does
    Neither the kingfisher nor the fishermen
    It has a belly to feed -its own
    The mud shelters whoever comes to it
    Insects, worms, parasites
    The woodpecker doesn’t mind the mud
    Nor does the Sun
    But men do,
    your daughters became white sand
    The white dove and white sand
    With pair of lotus eyes and feet
    With sandalwood skins
    And basil leaves for bosom
    They stretched their ancient legs
    For saints and sinners alike
    As they became the ones that sheltered all
    A thatched roof of straw and hay
    But once in a while, after pregnant pauses
    As the water of the clouds broke
    Tears would drip down slowly
    From the roof and men being men
    Would simply scavenge for another hut
    Until years passed on,
    The great grand-daughters of your daughters
    Would carry it as an heirloom
    Until one day they decided not to
    they made love with anarchy
    And slept in the arms of resistance, peacefully
    As if it were a cult
    A riot
    They wore tributaries of tears as waistband
    And would arch their eyebrows
    And launch sterile arrows
    they named their daughters freedom
    And asked them
    Wouldn’t you conquer yourself first
    To reclaim the world
    © Ayushi Saha 7 Jan 2021 10.41 am

    Idk why I wrote this.
    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod @writersbay #writersnetwork
    @my_cup_of_poetry
    Artwork by @/ madelinekate_illustrates on IG
    #gtwn

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  • galvanizedthoughts 8w

    Daughters of a borrowed land

    (i)
    The land on which my ancestors was such
    That you wouldn’t find on any maps
    Neither now nor 200 years ago
    Our land was a myth, our homes were too and so was the tree
    That stood in its centre
    Like the Sun does in the solar system
    Much like the lebu bhoot/ lemon ghost /
    Whose arms could extend for miles
    That you would find in Thakurmar Jhuli/ grandmother’s bag of stories/
    Yet the people in our village would say
    Do not sleep under the trees for they may haunt you
    But I often felt that the sturdy and stubborn branches would extend their arms
    In an attempt to imitate that ghost
    As the trunk, wisely wrinkled would resemble
    The folds on my grandmother’s forehead, arms and legs
    As some branches in rebellion would stoop low
    The Resin on the bark my mother would say
    Is the tree salivating in desires of attaining salvation
    And the roots, tap or fibrous
    Would hitchhike the water and nutrients, to their destination
    The leaves will photosynthesise in exchange
    For the wind that would mischievously spill secrets it stole
    From the grass, cloud, sun and soil

    (ii)
    Then came the pardeshi
    Or ones from another county
    The men in the village didn’t know what desh was
    They claimed that their gods were superior
    They burnt our houses, our fields and bodies
    While the big tree silently endured
    The men who did tapasya under it didn’t
    King Sibi had given his flesh away to save a dove
    They gave us away like meat on a platter
    To save their head and caricatures of manhood
    The big tree now looked ancient
    As ancient as the time when the entire womanhood
    Bore the punishment on behalf of Lord Indra
    For his sin of Brahma-hatya
    As the womanhood bled once every month
    The lord gave a boon of motherhood to woman
    And woman still bled
    Making lands fertile that attracted the Aangrez
    So for the sacred mother of all mothers
    They were given away as an ahuti
    And then came the brave ones
    Who said ‘Maa ka doodh piya he to jaang larne jaa’
    //If you have drank mother’s milk then come on the arena//
    For their own personal vendetta
    The land, the mother long forgotten
    The hips, tits, lips and bones rented away
    And the barbaric tenants beg, borrow and steal
    knee deep silence floods
    and tears seep through thatched roofs
    As the skies water broke
    The tenants now planted immigrated plants and hopes
    And wreak havoc as others glance and look away
    The land and the woman sacrificed
    Then and now
    Had no autonomy whatsoever
    Are ancient and mythical
    As the daughters of a borrowed land
    © Ayushi Saha @ galvanizedthoughts 01.01.21 15.30 pm

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

    Happy new year to everyone.
    Artwork by @ martina_hoffmann on IG

    I need some honest reviews and critics so that I am able to grow as a writer.
    @my_cup_of_poetry

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  • galvanizedthoughts 9w

    Cavity

    (I)
    There’s a hole in my heart, 6 inch wide
    The one that I stab myself with
    Being my usual nihilistic self
    Then twice, in order to extract, minced up words
    Thrice, being my usual apologetic self
    For hindering my ‘originality’
    Now my heart is a pumping cadaver of
    All the verses I have tormented in the name of individuality
    My heart is like Atlantis
    Co-Existing on Plato’s map and human anatomy while
    Ceasing to exist, on geographic maps and my figment of imagination
    My hearts topography as I would like to belief
    is that of Dvārakā- gateway to heaven
    cause that’s as close to heaven as I can get
    The blood and stain
    The scare and gore
    The pain and affliction
    Have become two sides of the same coin
    Oh! who am I? oppressor or oppressed
    Maybe both, but why should I bother
    Asking anything that puts my sanity on pedestal

    (II)
    In the tip of my tongue
    Resides a starved man
    On a parched land
    Searching for every drop of affectionate moisture
    he can gather as he patiently waits for the winds and its whims
    to grace him with merciful placid drops
    only if he ever wandered from there
    he would have discovered my tongue as a waterbed
    Both calm and torrential
    A wave and tsunami
    Both forgiving and unforgivingly destructive
    My teeth are like aqua regia dissolve
    Midas ‘s touch from my words
    Syllables come out as rough foam that is found in shore by retreating waves

    (III)
    In my thoracic cavity
    nestles an imaginary kingdom
    Were bias and assumptions
    Make merry together every night
    So in the bosom of dawn
    when the rib cages appear xenophobic
    They puncture my lungs
    And put up the flags
    As a tribute to the revolutionary morning
    As I breathe the alveoli bring the new winds of change
    And haemoglobin comes to rescue being the sole bearer's of change
    However as up, you go
    My oesophagus has an imposter syndrome
    Perhaps because once my conscience- a Dronacharya
    Asked it for its voice as a Gurudakshina
    And being the obedient one it still gives
    It's silence as an offering

    © Ayushi Saha | 25.12.20| 16.05pm | Galvanizedthoughts

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

    Merry Christmas and a happy new year to my Mirakee family
    Artwork by @/ tinyfarmstudio on ig

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  • galvanizedthoughts 10w

    An Ally
    I have never been able to differentiate
    Between a mother’s womb and her embrace
    Oh! She wanted to keep me
    From going astray
    She coddled with love
    As if my skin was a butter bed
    My tresses as dark as the treacherous nights
    My eyelashes as taut as a whip
    So when I plucked out one
    For 11.11 wish
    And wished to explore the very world
    That my mom had used herself as a shield to protect from
    She looked at me
    As a harbour looks
    At a ship that decides to rule the waves
    So she kissed my temple
    And warned me of the tempest winds
    And the whimsical waltzes of the bonfire
    That ends up swallowing the forests as whole as an offering
    She warned me of the soil, the Sun and the wind
    But silly me, paid no heed
    The oceans filled the emptiness in me, in volumes
    As water gurgled in my thoracic cavity
    The Sun in its brilliance and greed
    Gifted my blisters and burns
    The moon was an apathetic onlooker
    The soils stabbed and scorned at my sole
    And the winds left my tongue and oesophagus
    Drier than the Sahara Desert
    After staggering and stumbling
    I came across a tavern
    Where I met a mystery man
    With a dark cloak and a magnanimous aura
    To strike a conversation I asked
    How long have you been a wayward son?
    He said I belonged everywhere and nowhere
    I am the morsel over which
    A mother kills her own child
    I am the contempt that is experienced
    By the news of a neighbour’s success
    And the brim of hope
    When others fail
    I was am and will exist
    Even after the Suns greed overflows the pitcher
    As it swallows the moon, planets and stars
    To satiate its insatiable hunger
    I am the biggest foe and friend
    I am darkness, an eternal ally.
    © Ayushi Saha © galvanizedthoughts 23.12.20 10.30 am

    @writersnetwork @mirakee #pod

    @my_cup_of_poetry

    Artwork by @liviafalcaru

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  • galvanizedthoughts 10w

    Reborn

    My legs that are tamed
    often walk on eggshells
    flinch at the gentle caress of the grass
    as the wind murmurs sweet nothings
    and secrets its stole from a saint’s pouch
    to punish atlas perhaps
    the sky bids farewell
    to the onlookers
    as the birds rip the sky
    like bullets aimed into nothingness
    the skies bleed a tint of sacred vermillion
    as they look at the Sun
    as a newly-wed bride does
    at her warrior husband who departs
    to conquer the unchartered realms
    as the giant oak tree extends into the ocean of blues
    like an infant who stretches its arms
    in childlike wonder
    free from the vile intentions of society
    the leaves sing a rustic tune
    as I lose myself to the foreign feeling of satisfaction
    one wise man said
    the rich beget riches
    I ask what does a conscience beget
    As my mind settles in a chaotic rush
    Adrenaline comes to aid
    Only to inflame my restless mind
    Time seems redundant
    As I let myself be consumed
    As I fasten my pace
    I watch myself spew words
    As they arrange themselves in a beautiful cacophony
    As they ascend on pristine sheets of white
    Into a celebrated union /poem
    I come across a timeless beauty
    As I watch a euphoria
    That captures yet liberates
    Every ounce of sanity left in me
    I watch my well stacked words slain themselves
    A mass homicide
    As a new poem takes birth
    Anew beginning that leads to nowhere
    But I am content
    As I skip a few steps
    And trod away merrily
    After all, it isn’t regular
    To witness the glorious cycle of life ,death and rebirth
    All at the same moment.

    © Ayushi Saha /Galvanizedthoughts //22.12.2020// 10.30pm IST//

    @writersnetwork - thank you for your kind repost
    @mirakee #pod

    I wrote finally after a terrible writer's block
    Review and feedback gladly appreciated

    @my_cup_of_poetry @moitreyee

    Artwork by @liviafalcaru
    #gtwn

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