sing weave and dance

January 29, 2019 Naveen Srivatsav

A poem inspired by the endless horror of reading day after day the effects of man’s actions on Earth in the Anthropocene. Even our most innocent actions seem to have grave consequences that ripple into the increasingly unforeseeable future. Dilemmas arise with every single decision, endless compromise at every crossroad, and to what end, no one seems to know, or care. Why does it all seem so hard, are we even sure we’re not missing a simpler option?

You can always hate me tomorrow

August 15, 2017 Naveen Srivatsav

Tlawmngaihna, an untranslatable word used by the people of Mizoram, India. It is a code of social ethics, which a Mizo lives by, that calls on each and every individual to be hospitable, kind, unselfish and helpful to others.

I stand witness to what happened in Charlottesville in August 2017. But I believe it is a responsibility to witness injustice. It irks, it irritates, it triggers FOR A REASON. It is our instinct to reject injustice, as instinctive as breathing, as laughter, as tearing up. And it should compel you to act - that's what it's for. If you're looking for a sign, this is it.

I was compelled then, there was really no choice in the matter, to dedicate this poem to the brave woman who died preaching love for the fellow man.

Perfection is a poem

November 3, 2015 Naveen Srivatsav

I consider myself a perfectionist. At face value, that is something to be proud of — to take pride in your work. But there are always hidden implications, and honestly these are extremely fatiguing. I needed a cure for all the second-guessing. And then I found not one, but three.

The Ending with No End

November 2, 2015 Naveen Srivatsav

I chase a leaf blowing in the wind, a stray page from the land of lost endings. It sings an alto melancholy, of melodies that will never come into being.

One tale in particular beckons to me, with the easy charm of an old friend. It promises a timeless story, the only ending with no end.

The things that drove him silent

July 26, 2013 Naveen Srivatsav

Blink. That pregnant moment of first light entering weak eyes. His first impression is that the world is upside down; as blood rushes to his head the newborn babe starts life with a splitting headache. Gasp and cue the high-pitched wails.

Superboys last all century long

April 30, 2007 Naveen Srivatsav

This story is from my archived old blog - posted as-was-originally-written almost a decade ago. A bit emo, but I think I was mostly exploring if a narrative can be carried in a stream-of-consciousness monologue without back-and-forth banter. An ode to Brian Aldiss’ Supertoys Last All Summer Long (which was subsequently made into the movie A.I. by Spielberg), with many easter egg references.