Mind your language

“Okay,” Angie cracked her knuckles. “I got this. I’ve done this every year, and I’ll do it this time as well.” Her nimble fingers were poised over the keyboard, ready to strike as soon as an idea presented itself. 

Indira walked over to the workstation. She was a bit older than Angie, but they both seemed to be the same age; not just in appearance, but, as Angie liked to say, in their heart and soul as well. She thought ‘heart and soul’ sounded cool. Indira huffed. Anything was cool when Angie said it. 

It wasn’t that they hated each other— far from it. They were practically siblings. It was either ‘hey I’ll help you bury the body’ or ‘yours is the body I’ll be burying.’ There was no in-between.

The second was what Indira was feeling today. Since the past few years it’d always been Angie, Angie, Angie. At best, she was riding shotgun. At worst, she was forgotten in a corner of the house. It wasn’t fair at all— she was a grown woman, she had been the first one here, she was the one who opened every single door and window. She loved Angie, true, but not at her own cost. Today presented a perfect opportunity for confrontation.

“Can’t think of anything?” she slurped her fennel-cardamom chai loudly.

“I- I don’t know, it’s just—“

“Sabe que tu corazon conmigo tu hace bom bom, sabe que sa bebe esta—” Espina was skipping around the house singing— no, shouting —the rap part of Despacito for the third time. In an hour.

“Maybe I could if someone would stop screaming lyrics they don’t even know the meaning of!” The walls felt Angie’s frustration, but the little girl, barely three, didn’t seem to take a hint. She continued rapping at the top of her babyish voice.  

“Tsk-tsk. She’s just a child, Ang dear, who you enabled.” Indira sat down on the empty chair, crossing her legs. “You seem tired. Maybe you should let me take the lead today?” she tried not to let her desperation show.

“No, I—” Angie put her fingers through the handle of her coffee mug. “I’ve gotta do this. It’s my job. I can’t let Her down. Not today.”

“Oh, please. You’re overworked as is. Besides, you do this all the time, and today’s a special day. If you do it, it won’t be anything… different. It’ll be just as usual. Take a break. Let me help you, Angie.” Indira seriously hoped she wasn’t sounding like one of those thinly-veiled Bollywood femme fatales.

“No, no, no. You don’t get it, Indu. You haven’t done this in, like, forever. You’ve done this, what, a couple of times in the last six, seven years? I do this at least every couple of months or so. I’m meant to do this. Besides, even if you do it, we both know what’ll happen. She will get tired, She will think it seems too…” Angie paused. She didn’t want to trigger the woman sitting in front of her. “…unlike Her. You’re best at the more sociable part. Why don’t you do that?” She smiled, hoping that’d clear any hints of an insult. Nobody wanted a pissed-off Indira.

The smile did not help.

Continue reading

How to be funny: A helpful guide ft. Wrinkles, aka My Brain

No, Wrin dear, I am not changing it to ‘just My Brain’. And no, the title’s not too long.

Well, hello there. Three days ago, it was C&C Fac’s 3rd anniversary, and even though my 12th board exams are literally starting in 17 days (yes, I counted), I’ve come out of this blogging exile just for this anniversary post, which is basically the only tradition over here.

Continue reading

Results of the Raw Poetry Contest

After two long months, the results of The Raw Poetry Contest are finally here. Yay!

You can keep those hockey sticks inside now, impatient participants.

Before we move on to the fun part, I really want all of you to know that you all did great. And I’m not just saying that for the sake of formality- I genuinely appreciated the response to the contest. At first, when I launched it, I got very few entries and I was disappointed to know that so few people could relate to the concept of raw poetry. But extending the deadline by a week was one of the best decisions I ever made because entries poured in after that. I guess y’all are just as lazy as me, huh? So, in the end, I got 19 entries, which was a pretty big deal for me considering that I hadn’t expected to get even 10.

And boy, was it a stiff competition. Even though there were three judges including me, we had a hell of a time selecting the top three. That’s why it took us two whole months to fully analyse and rate each poem.

I don’t want to be one of those annoying judges that say ‘participation is more important than winning’, because I know all too well that more than comforting, it feels like salt on a wound. So to all of you who couldn’t win this time, I will not say that. But I will be very honest with you and tell you that it takes a certain amount of faith in your work to submit it even for a small-scale contest like this one, and all of you who participated had that faith. All of you put in the effort to come up with a uniquely ‘you’ poem. And I think writing raw poetry is an achievement in itself because we’re so used to writing regular poetry. It can be difficult to remove that inherent propensity to use poetic devices and write a traditionally beautiful poem. Even if you did not win, I hope you learned something and most importantly, had fun.

Many of you still wrote regular poetry, and though you did not win a prize, I do hope you will read the winning entries and finally understand the concept. And if you do, my purpose is complete- the whole point of launching this was to familiarise you with the idea of raw poetry and encourage you to deviate from the traditional norms.

Just one last thing before I move on to the prize winners. The trophies displayed with each of the names were personally designed by me in Paint 3D (What a multitalented girl. I know, right?). All of you digital artists, don’t judge me, because it was my first time using Paint 3D. Prize winners: you can upload those trophies on your own blog and/or social media if you like.

Also, the three of us individually rated each poem out of 10 to keep track of our opinions about each one, and the average rating mentioned with the prize-winning poems are the average of those three ratings.

So, here we go:

Continue reading

The good, the bad and the ugly

The Good: The deadline for The Raw Poetry Contest has been extended! Yes, people, you now have till 21st June 11:59 P.M. Indian Standard Time to submit your entries. Do not let this chance go unused- if you wanted to participate but couldn’t because of lack of time, here’s a bonus week for you. So, spam me with your poems.

Continue reading

The Raw Poetry Contest

People usually launch contests, awards and other such things of their own on a special occasion- like their blog’s or their own birthday. But I, like Lewis Carroll, am going to do so on my unbirthday instead. After all, you have 364 unbirthdays and only one birthday, like he so insightfully said.

You don’t need to be Sherlock to know that it is the Raw Poetry Contest I’m launching today.

But what is this Raw Poetry Contest thingamajig?

Continue reading

The Voice of my blog- by Support Mypen

Yeah, yeah, I couldn’t find a good enough rhyme for ‘Walt Whitman’ that would also fit the theme of this parody, so, bear with me. But did you not read that properly? It’s a parody, folks! (That too after nine months, like my brain was pregnant with it and has finally birthed it today- get it? I’ll just see myself out).

Now the reason why I’ve decided to write a parody after such a long time is that I’ve completed a hundred posts on the Factory. *Shower of confetti* *Fountain of Appy Fizz since I’m not old enough for champagne* *Virtual applause which is the only kind I’ll get* You see that featured image, folks? That’s what it means.

This is my hundred-and-first post, and I wanted to do something which was both special and enjoyable (so a letter to my first-post self was out, which was my initial idea). Today I’ve parodied Walt Whitman’s ‘The Voice of the Rain‘, which is a wonderful poem (I mean, come on, it’s Walt Whitman) and which is also in our English textbook this year. You should go read it if you haven’t. Now, on to the parody:

Continue reading