The following poem was penned by my very  talented younger sibling. Till the time I tickle my poetic brain, enjoy reading this one –

To the random thoughts in my head,
That do not let me sleep in bed,
Would you kindly gather yourself up in a bundle?
And stop my brain from going on a trundle
Making sense of stuff?
Especially my dreams
Fragile like cotton candy fluff
I savour them, sure,
Like a 6-year old
Then I realize that I am an adult now,
And for that there ain’t no cure.
But these neuronic caterpillars,
Join hands to make weird connections
Some logical, some feelers,
And off I go into dreamland. Again.
The questions that now form though,
Are more existential,
You might think they are stupid,
To me they sound essential,
“why is this strange man on the tram, smiling at his mobile phone so?”
“how do so many people manage to dance in this crowded disco?”
“how can you not like chinese food? Is there something wrong with your taste buds?”
“the bathroom drain is blocked again. Argh. Soap suds”
So as I try to unjumble
My jumbled thought processes,
You might wonder dear reader,
If I suffer from imagined neuroses,
But don’t think, kindly,
Be wary instead,
For you might just lose yourself,
In the maze that’s my head 😛

– Ankita Mitra