Turning Antonyms into Paradoxes by Aarushi Kataria – Book Review

“It is better to be together than alone in an obliterated city amongst people with decimated morals that can’t appreciate art.”

Turning Antonyms into Paradoxes is a collection of poetic prose and verse spread across 10 chapters spanning people, cities, literature and other muses poets usually find themselves influenced by. Seeking to draw opposites in a way that makes us ask if there really is a stark dichotomy between life and death or art and the artist, Kataria narrows down the space between them.

Written in a dreamy way, it will appeal to those who love reading books steeped in romanticism (Fitzgerald fans, take notes). The prose coupled with verse and also illustrations by Ariana Gupta make for a well rounded experience. Written by the author at the age of 16, the ideas dealt with transcend what modern poetry seems to have become in these times. The excitement of young love, family, doubt, loss and death have been done justice with lyrical words.

This book can serve young writers and poets looking for inspiration or weathered poets wanting to look back on how words take form in the work of young poets.

Happy Reading.

~ Saadia

 

On Perfectionism

 

Spring

 

Its beautiful.

The tiny velvet blue petals and white dandelions, the sparrow and its hearth, the pine. The budding grass, lush and young, the marbled columns, long roads and the singing of the rare scarlet bird. Its magic and I have fallen for it many times but there is this dark place inside, where the night reigns and stars peek through sometimes, smoke and carnage, broken bones and tired limbs, grey and raven, overlapping and drowning, spring has not found a home yet. Not yet.

– Saadia

Color me Grey

 

The grey had found a home in the white, it consumed ruthlessly until it was dark and dull, like the sky had turned ashy. But it was beautiful, it was the color of death yet it felt like the beginning of all we never had, it was grey fog on our work of art but it was breathtaking.

Bronze, auburn and heather have their share of beauty but mauve is a breath of fresh air. The air tasted sharp the day grey took over, like droplets of water, the color of sea foam were dispensed somewhere inside. The air looked like the color of broken bones but it was stunning, like ivory had met stone.

Raven and ink have their share of hiding our scars but slate is the color of invincibility. The ground was soft the day grey took over, like its burden was already gone, like broken promises and unmet dreams had sailed away like dandelion seeds. The ground still looked shaken but it was bracing, like obsidian had met tangerine.

~ Saadia

Warmth

1. You may have a dark sky

Fractured by city lights

But I have an orange veil

That reminds me of summer nights.

And a promise that the sky holds

Our dreams and our ambition

Trying to make a sense

Out of one broken world.

So today, I pick up the pieces

And arrange them skyward

And I know that these colors

Will be enough

To form another sunset

Tinged with the warmth

Of a last hug.

– Saadia

Run

Run, kid, run till your lungs ache and your shins split open. Run till you leave the dead earth hanging on the shattered horizon. Run, leave the immaculate fields behind, plains where the grass is too green, run and strip the unnecessary. Run, love, run till your eyes have drowned in an ocean of stinging tears, run till the trees drift away into an illusional distance. Run till the rain has drenched your bones and the snow nestles in your hair. Run till you are carved raw, run till you find the abode of your demons and the abbey of your angels, run , for the sake of your damned life, run. Run till colours drink themselves up in the sky and the night folds into herself.

– Saadia

Shedding Skin

I’ve forgotten how it was before,

When these bricks made

Bridges , not walls

And love was unconditional,

Wild and fresh

In its youth.

 But now ,your departure

Feels like shedding worn skin.

The reminder was not sad

But of surprise

The fact that I care no longer.

-Saadia

Frozen

This frozen lake,

and the sharp pine needles,

still linger like

its day one,

and the past wasn’t supposed,

to hurt ,

if you didn’t let it,

but I’ve always let it,

and tonight I am lying down,

taking a sip,

of broken stars ,

while its on my mind,

Is this all we have,

all we really are?

~ Saadia

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