Sharon Eappen

It's been a while since I've opened My diary and greeted it with my tales- A religious duty seldom performed As these hands have better things to write. It's been a while since I've opened a book And travelled with it through the plot; A poor planned schedule and a tired mind Since my eyes have better things to read. It's been a while since I've posted a New blog and engaged my audience In words and thinking. They seldom ask for my absence though, I assume the old posts keep them thinking. It's been a while since I've scribbled Through pages with my arm aching It aches because it has to keep in par With what my mind and heart are yelling. It's been a while since I've had An arm ache while writing- But an arm ache due to a heartache Is all the ache I'd take. It's been a while since I've seen you around You who've been lingering on my website for a while now. It's been a journey for you and me Thr...

      When I first wanted to write about this, I hesitated, because of the inescapable judgment and gaze that would follow me for addressing such a topic, as this would easily pass off as immoral or as sexually desperate if one only gave it a glance. The lack of understanding and the lack of knowledge thereof has led to heavy misunderstandings on the addressing of social issues such as gender segregation, gender bias or gender roles. The most common misunderstanding would be that when one refers to gender issues, people usually mistake it as a synonym for women’s issues or sometimes include even issues of those pertaining to the transgenders and the non binary genders, sometimes maybe even to men whose sexual identity is homosexual. But somehow, the male community who identify as heterosexuals are excluded and so addressing sexism seems like a war where the two genders are always throwing examples of their own gender group being discriminated. Sometimes, it wil...

Let me write stories that fill your sky I'll paint them blue with love and hope Let me write sweet songs to you Of our joyful days together Sing with me if you like These are the good days of our lives Dance with me if you can The music won't last for long And when they fade we'll look back To the best days of our lives Sing with me if you can These are the good days of our lives I'll paint your skies With crimson and shades of pink And seal those shades in our letters A sunset portrait in ink Let me fill your canvas with ink For as many days as I can We don't know how long this will last A finite or a forever Love, let me write stories that fill you from within And let the fragrance of these stories engulf you For as long as it is and for as long as it shall be Let the warmth of my love embrace you Let its lovely arms quench you For only time will tell our fate And as long as time will test us Let my in...

--There are some things that are really hard to say but have to be said one way or the other -- The other day, when I attended a Holy Communion service which supposedly followed the CSI order of worship (not really, but bits and pieces), I started to feel an unsual sense of discomfort within me. Now that discomfort did not emerge from the worship being in Malayalam (which I had gotten accustomed to, even though my first language is English). It did not come from the fact that I had to cover my head, because although I did not personally believe in forcing women to cover their heads, I was used to doing so since I knew that the Sunday service was not a time for arguments like these. It was also not because of the liturgical style of worship even though my family and I occasionally go to Free Worship churches back at home (and I would attend the college’s worship during my first year) because I do enjoy the depth of liturgy and the affirmations it hold. That discomfort came fr...

Prologue: The city in which I currently study, which is distant from the city I grew up in, is quite an oven during the summer months. For people like me, who have disturbed sleep due to rise in temperatures or wake up in the middle of the night to a sweat-soaked bed and decline in falling back asleep immediately, it can be quite a task to maintain a consistent sleeping pattern especially on academic working days. To make it worse, I sleep on the top bunk of my bunk bed which means the fan's breeze does not conveniently deviate to reach me. This is one such night - probably the worst of all my nights - which had to top with me going to university the next day and my body feeling the ache of not sleeping. Back after class, the evening was no good since although I was lying down I could not fall alseep. And so this is one such piece written out of frustration from a bad night's sleep and having to deal with not being able to fall sleep when followed up with. Ins...

The book of Esther is the story of a Jewish girl, who gets to be Queen by hiding her identity as a Jew and almost risks her marriage to save her own people from genocide. While that takes up most of the story line there is a build up in the book which leads to Esther’s marriage that is usually not noticed or is rush read or rush explained (if you’ve been to Sunday School and/or Christian camps, that is). So in the drama of the man who built his own gallows, what exactly did we miss? Queen Vashti. Queen Vashti, the former wife of King Xerxes, is mentioned briefly in the first two chapters of the book. While throwing a banquet for his nobles and officials, the King commanded the eunuchs who served him to bring before him his Queen because she was lovely to look at. What did she do instead? She refused to come out and, it says, that burned the King with anger. Queen Vashti refusing to come out when the attendants approached her While that seems casually mentioned, it see...

We are all but entities Of our own selves Whole yet empty, Passionate yet plodding. All of me is just an embodiment, Of the different monsters that Come to live in me. All of me is like a canvas A canvas that is played upon. Not like the canvas of the night sky That is beautiful to look at; This canvas is almost grey. It's colours are paler than pale And duller than dull. It looks Like the colours were spilled untidily, By children who were only playing. But the canvas, oh the canvas It can feel the pain Of being twisted and turned And stretched and pulled. This body can feel the pain This entity isn't dull. It feels every emotion walk in; It feels every emotion pierce out. This entity is breathing and feeling Even if it has to come face to face With its own monsters- the old ones That like to pay kind visits. This entity feels every emotion An outburst of cry Or a rage of anger It is tired of building facades. And so it ...

As I take a walk in the moonlight on a breezy evening, an evening where the many trees refuse to talk to me, I remember you, Muskaan, as much as I push it away. As much as I remind myself of how the paths of my evening walk are filled with girls my age I still have a sharp memory of us, you and I, going around ice cream vendors and sitting on the park bench in my colony. I remember describing the night skies to you, like you couldn't see it yourself and you wondering why I had such an obsession for the night sky. I remember sitting beside you after calling you to come out even when it was late just to tell you how stressed I've been. Do you remember how I'd hold your hand in fright every time we crossed the road? Or how you'd patiently wait for that one truck or motorcycle to pass by because I told so? Do you remember how we'd search around for the big dustbin in my colony (that would magically teleport itself every few days) because we refused to throw ice c...

Note to the Reader: I wasn't depressed while writing this. Thanks. 30.01.2019

Are you a writer? Are you not? Are you someone who writes occasionally, or do you not write at all? Whatever it is, you have certainly come across the term 'Writer's Block'.  A creativity block, in general, is the inability of a person to think, process and perform normally in one's field of art. As vicious as it sounds it is all the more striking to realise there has been a specific creativity block that is strongly associated with writers and that is, you know it, the writer's block. From getting into writing just as a hobby, to setting up a blog website, to ensuring I keep up with my consistency and failing quite a few times, I've come to realise that writer's blocks can actually be very varied even when all these added flavours can stick to the precise definition of what a writer's block is (which, by the way, actually has no precise definition, like most personal encounters and experiences). So here it is on what I th...