Your unfurled vermillion petals, the blooms ablaze

The sun parts with a weary goodbye

You sigh in the faint whispers trailing through the woods

Entranced, your arms swaying to the motion,

Harmonizing with the inhabitants of this lively place

The damp moss around your feet tickling the fragrant air

You are but a few feet taller, than your admirer that is me

Your light droopy arms overhead, brushing against my hair

While some tire at the growing weight of your fruits

From bulbous jade to the newborn pearls of scarlet

Tangled about my fingers, in an affectionate embrace

I wrap my arms around your amassing vines

Tying some in loose knots, like gnarled swings for little birds

Giggling, unknotting, chattering away the child residing within

I speak of distant mountains from my wanderlust-ridden mind

I speak of friends I once had, from my hidden solitary corners

I speak of people I love but remain fate-forbidden to meet

You listen; you listen, like a wizened man old

You listen; you listen, like a wisdom-clad crone

You listen like no one ever has, to me

You listen to my inner voice, half as deep buried as your roots

You listen, windlessly rocking in response

Your ancient ties to the speaking wisdom trees of lore

Entice my curiosity, one that I quieted

A friend you are, who I grew up with, our friendship queer

One being a sapling, one a toddler, and a language of silence

Now look at you! Your slender waist, winding upward in grace!

Now look at you! Your bark, branches, and leaves of strength!

Now look at you! Bearing fruits sweeter than honey, redder than blood.

Now look at you, standing proud

When rain beats and hacks, you grow but prettier

Stronger with each day

When winds cut, bending you into the sloshing mud

You flop for a day, gathering might

Being the fairest maiden when the sun next shines

You’ve been the harp to my silent notes

The living pillar I sit against and reflect,

The sometimes-thorny build I hold on to unflinchingly

One day perhaps we both will wilt when our seasons come

“Will I be shamed for seeking solace from a tree than people?

And being triumphant at that?” I think, I ask

You say naught, I hum tunelessly

A rhythm of the winds, unsynchronized and soothing

With unspoken words, of you and I.




Okay, so, a freeverse poem. Wrote one after ages, and it feels so good. I’d like to explain some things about the poem but since I kinda sorta maybe definitely suck at explaining stuff, I looked up a few pictures to do the bit for me. I’m glad I could find some that fit the descriptions.

Also because nowhere did I mention it’s about a pomegranate tree. 😀

Pomegranate collage


‘newborn pearls of scarlet’, ‘unfurled vermillion petals’,

‘bulbous jade’, ‘fruits sweeter than honey, redder than blood’.


— Praty



Let my tears and wounds dry to dust

Let the scars fade if they must

Let the pain ebb away slow and painfully

Let me immerse in my darkness ruefully


Allow me to be the person I was destined to be

Allow me to stray not but only to be me

Allow me to resurface into light from oblivion

Allow me to break free from a cocoon of thorns




Who am I telling this to, some redeemer, some muse?

Who’s there to save me from unearned rues?

Who’s there to shield me from fate’s scalding wrath?

Who’s there to guide me through untrodden paths?


“No one” a voice I couldn’t hear spat voraciously

“No one” and the ravenous silence consumed me

“No one” except the menacing voices in my turbulent head

“No one” ’cause if I don’t shut them and move on, I’ll be dead.


They say there’s something about sunset. Depends on the person’s perspective as to whether they find it depressing, peaceful, or a bringer of pure melancholy.

I say there’s something silhouette-y about the ambience of dusk. I’d go into finer details of philosophy, but nah. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy something just how it appears. Floating on the surface than scuba diving into it and missing a spectacular moment above.

Sonset1 final


Oh, and wow. This is my 50th post. 😀

— Praty

Homemade Vada – Fritter-like snack

Homemade Vada by mum. 😀
Vada (a.k.a Bada, Bara) originated in Southern India. Be it store bought or homemade, it’s a much favoured snack in Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Odisha (my state) and Sri Lanka.

Doughnut-shaped, a savoury snack usually made from lentil, dal, gram flour, or potato, and that can be eaten with ketchup, chutney, curry, salad, or simply with anything you like.

Often on roadsides you can see vendors frying vadas, or in sweet shops and the like.

A very famous collaborated form of Vada is the Dahi Vada. Of many things, my city of Cuttack is also known for its something-special-about-it Dahi Vada (/Bara, as called in my language). I don’t know how or why “Cuttack’s Dahi Vada” is so renowned. But it is. And there’s no denying it really is out of the world. I’ll make sure I write a post dedicated only to its awesomeness. Heh.

Vada final wala final

And yes. These homemade vadas were fab.

— Praty