I looked around the world for beauty with my two colourless eyes.
I was in desperate need of something that would make me rejoice.
I broke mirrors to see magic in the shimmering shards.
I cut myself and bled instead.
The red hue that surrounded me, fascinated me.
I squeezed another piece of the broken mirror to catch a glimpse of that repeated red.
My eyes fell upon the broke mirror for the very first time.
The mirror showed me something-
that was bright like the smiling sun;
that was shaped like a rich almond;
that was melting like pure chocolate.
It took me a while to realise,
But they were my very own bland eyes
staring back at me.
I realised…
There was beauty in me.
I realised I first needed to close my eyes and ponder over
the beauty,
the art
that was in me.
The art that was me.
When I did so, I could see all that was around me with my eyes closed.
Colours became brighter.
Asphalt was beautiful.
Rocks took shape of my imagination and became so much more.
My twinkling, yearning eyes might now be closed to the world,
But my mind was now open.
      – Mia


The poem is based on another painting by my talented mate Netra.

Be a happy potato ^_^


Forgive but don’t ever forget

Forgive but don’t ever forget.
The pain you feel?
The burn of the betrayal?
It’s not in your head;
It is real.

How many times will you forget?
How many times will you get burnt?
You can bear only so many regrets,
Until you realise that
The lesson is learnt.

A person who has hurt you twice,
Won’t shy away a third time.
Habits break; characters don’t.
Remember that it happened,
And it wasn’t just a mime.

The person obviously didn’t care about you.
Now why don’t you return the favour?
End it soon. End it now.
Your peace of mind,
It’s something that you will savour.
– Mia

World of Books

So the amazing Netra and well, I collaborated once again.



They told me I was ordinary.
They pointed out my limitations.
They laughed when I said-
I will conquer the world.
They jeered when I declared-
I am more than a mere girl.
Then they began stamping out
My originality,
My fire,
My every impulse.
I conformed.
I conformed until
I saw the view
over their shoulders.
Then I exploded.



What do you notice about a person first?
The glint in their eyes or the mischief in their smile?
Their winged eyeliner or how they team a bright scarf with a skirt and manage to get the look you desire.
Have you observed the souls around and tried to soak in the tiny details of their simple being?
How they tuck in those tresses shyly behind their ears and look beautiful.
The way they curl their toes and and cuddle their knees when they shiver on a winter night.
How they hold a pen when they finish their first poetry, their dainty fingers smeared with ink.
How their eyes light up when they see their favourite dessert arriving in the restaurant.
And then the smile that adorns their face on a good hair day.
How their nose turns pink-red when they catch cold yet they never fail to look cute.
And the way they flaunt their pierced belly with that crop top.
I don’t know if it is beautiful to find someone adorable in parts.
But what is more important is loving someone as whole.
And I hope you do both.
-Shubhda Pujare
Diary of an Introverted Schmuck turned one on the first of April. To celebrate, I asked some of my friends to write poems or short stories on a word of their choice.
This poem is written by my friend Shubh on the word “dainty”. She’s so freaking multi-talented. She writes, she quills (brilliantly, if I may add), she dances, she learns languages…you name it and she’s done it 🙂
I’m sure she’ll love appreciation, encouragement and constructive criticism.

Chaos and Symmetry

He enjoyed the Sunlight
while she preferred
The star-sprinkled night .

Darkness scared him
and the lights itched
her innocent eyes.

The differences didn’t bargain their lust for one another.

They danced to the symphony of their heartbeats during the dawn and the dusk, and thus
found symmetry in their chaos.


Diary of an Introverted Schmuck completed a year on the first of April. To make a big deal out of my Blog Birthday, I asked some friends of mine to guest post here.

This was written by my friend Netra on ‘chaos’. Mind you, she isn’t a writer. She draws and is awesome at it. Netra is the one who made my gravatar profile picture. 

She has a Facebook page called PASSIONOBBY where she sells the cutest bookmarks and wands!

Thanks Netra! 😀


My mother calls me an “eclectic”

At first, I thought she said “electric”

As if I were a robot

Or some household appliance

With some manufacturer’s label

Describing exactly how to

Heat the food

Wash the dishes

Print that five page report that was due yesterday

What I was made of

Every function, component, and detail precise.

But she had said “eclectic”

Meaning I would love both rock and pop music

I would read everything from the newspaper

To the sci-fi novels about interstellar travel

To the picture books about magic chickens.

Meaning I would pair frilly tops with cargo pants

And I wanted that clean, slick look of modern décor

But adored the rustic, rough edge of vintage.

Meaning I would look for meaning

In cells

In the stars

In the pages of books

In my mind

And in my heart.

Meaning I wouldn’t be satisfied with just one.

“Eclectic” meant that I was born here

On the other side of the world

Far away from anything that resembled

The Filipino of my face.

Far away from a mother tongue.

Closer to the stereotyped

Maple syrup blood and politeness

Than the miles of rice and heat and dust.

Meaning that when I reached out west for the orient

I came back with eyes full

Of animated demons, and magical girls

Who would twirl their wands and save the universe.

I reached west for the orient

And came back with hands full of objects

Stamped with “made in China.”

I reached west for the orient

And found myself wrapped in clothes neither foreign or native

Eating food that was neither native nor foreign

Celebrating something I didn’t understand.

I reached west for the orient

Reached west for the orient

Reached west

Reaching so far west

That I had missed the orient entirely

And instead found mystical figures

With animal heads on human bodies

With control over the skies, and the sea, and the dead.

But like electronics, I was stamped

Skin tone

Eye colour

Facial features

My own name.

Oh, you’re Filipino?

Last name? Ah, good family. Knew your Lolo.

You speak?


Born here?

Well, you should learn.

You cook?

Good. Good. Learn the native foods.

Native foods.

Made with fish that was imported frozen

Made with vegetables that wouldn’t survive the cold

Made with flavored powder that looked indiscernible from the sandy beaches

That the food was “native” of.

Native. What a tricky word.

When handed a “Check one box”

I stumbled

Between what I looked like

And where I was born.

Between what I ate

And a language I couldn’t understand.

Born in country that embraces origins

How can you bring something

That is already there?

“Bring a history,” they said,

I don’t have one yet.

“We are multicultural,” they claimed,

Well, so am I.

My mother calls me an eclectic.

Sometimes I wish she had meant “electric”

With the functions, components, and details

Written clearly on a label.


This wonderful, wonderful poem is by Leanna who blogs at Short Story Long Blog. She writes the most comprehensive book reviews. Do check her blog out! I’m sure she’ll love comments and appreciation here or on her blog 🙂

The prompt chosen by Leanna was the word ‘eclectic’.

Diary of an Introverted Schmuck completed a year on the first of April. To make a big deal out of my Blog Birthday, I asked some friends of mine to guest post here. Leanna’s poem is the first post and I’m so grateful to her for agreeing to write something. You rock, Leanna!

NaPoWriMo 1: Atlas

Prompt: Baggage


Atlas walked down the lonely lane.

The weight of the sky caused him to wane.

Stars cut his flesh and left behind

Trails of blood, and scars, and pain

Stardust burnt his eyes.

It wasn’t tears, just the dust.

He could feel his immortality

slithering away, sinking into a hole .

And the essence of him fading into obscurity.

Atlas missed his beloved Calypso.

Her gentleness, her warmth, his daughter.

All they had done was stand by their beliefs.

And for this, they were punished.

Punished hard and punished brutally.

Punished with a longing that would last eternally.

He was trapped in this space; this place of nothing.

Empty, vacant, null, deserted, isolated, lonesome.

Could you blame him for wanting to escape?

Could you blame him for wanting to trick someone

into bearing this infinite burden instead?



One of my friends Saiber convinced me to participate in the NaPoWriMo challenge which basically stands for National Poetry Writing Month: a poem a day for 30 days. I don’t know whether I’ll end up writing 30 poems or not but I can try, right?

For the sake of Poetry

For the sake of Poetry

A look, a glimpse, a smile.
The make my long dormant creativity come alive.

A greeting, a word, a handshake.
I go through this sensuous torture
For poetry’s sake

A kiss, a caress, an involuntary sigh.
This pandemonium of senses bleeds
my emotions dry

I let myself be broken again and again
All so that my poetry becomes
the Phoenix of my Pain



I look into your eye
And feel no solidarity
What happened to us?
You said we’re a team.
Now I reckon, that’s just a dream
Because I have become a lone ranger
A well- known stranger
Do you even care?
Do you even notice?
I leave, again and again
One day, I won’t come back
I’ll escape, I’ll emancipate
I’ll go to a place where you can’t manipulate me
I’ll go to a place where you can’t hurt me
I’ll go to a place where I’ll be free

Photo Credits- Akshay Khond

Photo Credits- Akshay Khond

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