Anjali Roongta
Hie! I am Anjali, an everyday girl in India who's trying to make imperfect and practical sustainable living a reality while also sharing insights from my decade long writing career as well as some poems and short stories.
I AM GETTING PUBLISHED!
I think the title says it all but yeah, I am getting published. This is pretty informal but in about a month I will have a collection of poems titled “Diary of a Twenty-Something” being sold in some online stores.…
Temptations
There’s a devil on my shoulder, An angel on the other, Both whispering in my ear, Trying to help my decisions. “Do not lie,” says ones. “Exploit loopholes, they are being irrational,” advises the other. “Take your freedom,” tempts one.…
Bruises
Trigger Warning. Black and blue and purple and yellow, I never saw a bruise, Outside of Google Photos, Or so I thought Till I began to count- 1. The growing pains, But everyone has them. 2. Random bumps into furniture…
Being selfless
Why are we taught to put others before ourselves? I wish we were taught to love ourselves first, Be a little kind to everyone, Including ourselves. Except we choose Abnegation, A life of service, But is it selfless to put…
Summer
As I watch the drops fall and cover the ground, I breathe freely for the first time in months, Free of the blistering heat, And the memories that come with it. The old swimming dress that has hung in my…
Growing Up
Growing Up, I have forgotten the feel of the early morning sun, The soft and cool warmth caressing my skin, As I walk in the grass. Growing up, I replaced it with long naps, Or sleeping-in, Waking up, still fatigued,…
Sun
It’s true, Today everyone is an artist, Everyone is a poet, Every locality has a singer, Every teenage enthusiast is the next YouTube sensation, But why should that stop you? The sun doesn’t stop shining, Because there are other stars…
What is depression?
A/N- Do I even need to post a trigger warning given the title? What is depression? I always wondered if my depression was something in my head, Made up of imagination that escalated sadness, Fed by the need to special,…
Milk in coffee
“I don’t like…you know…doing it.” Sitting with a friend in a cafe, A confession came pouring out, Mixing into the silence like milk into coffee, Stirring slowly, Changing the composition, From light-hearted to something, Something new and uneasy as she…