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teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Kavya Janani 🌻🌌🎶
@teainnumvarala.bsky.social
190 followers 130 following 520 posts
She/Her. 31. Melomaniac. Mom. Banker. Writer. Singer. Playlists Maker. Metaphysics Aficionado. HU 🌀
#KJDreamyPoet

Writer acct: @kavyajanani.bsky.social

One stop link for my works: https://linktr.ee/kavya.janani
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teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Kavya Janani 🌻🌌🎶 @teainnumvarala.bsky.social · Dec 30
This is a semi-autobiographical short story I wrote for last week's Reedsy contest. I never thought I'd convert my painful experience into a time-travel story. Please give it a read!

blog.reedsy.com/short-story/...
Playing With Destiny – A Drama Short Story by Kavya Janani U – Reedsy Prompts
Staring at my freshly bandaged fingers, I wished for only one thing. To go back in time and prevent the accident. Okay, maybe I wished for more too...
blog.reedsy.com
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Back here because Twitter has turned stuffy and suffocating once again. I'm gonna log in there only once a week, to post about music and interact with people who post music. Otherwise, I'm good here. I love shouting into the void too. And yes, these 10 months have been enlightening ✨
December 10, 2025 at 8:21 AM
Reposted by Kavya Janani 🌻🌌🎶
everywriter.bsky.social
poems
are ghosts
of
regret
and desire
#poetry #poet #poem #writing #writers
March 8, 2025 at 3:37 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Meanwhile KJ's Wordle grid looked like this yesterday
Wordle grid
March 4, 2025 at 5:30 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Guys...🥹

Credit: @_basakduran_ on IG
Starry Night Art by Basak Duran
February 23, 2025 at 4:23 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
TW: grief

#KJDreamyPoet
FOR NEITHER EVER, NOR NEVER, GOODBYE... (after Apparat) I don't know what to say anymore. I have written this poem a million times inside my head, whirling each word, each letter round and round inside my cerebrum, coating it with layers and layers of excruciating ache and grief. Sometimes, I think I should have put pen to paper when my wound was still fresh. But the words were scared of me. They didn't want to come to a woman who was splintering herself by thinking about how she could have been a saviour. Do you see it now? My whole skin is tattooed only with ifs, buts, and whys. If I could have been there for you... But you didn't trust me enough... Why didn't I check up on you? A thousand different scenarios gnaw and eat through my flesh and bones, making my whole being swim in an ocean of regrets. What's another one going to do to me than add to the mess? Sometimes, I console myself that I'm already an abode of devastation. But this devastation would be that nasty stain that wouldn't go away. I have to live with it, looking hard into it every day. You see, this poem would be disarrayed, much like how my soul has been since you left without any goodbyes or answers. All my neural networks have been rejecting the fact that you are no longer a living, breathing, thriving human being. That there are no more footprints of you on this Earth. That you will never get to drink another hot tea on a hot summer's day. Even the songs that we both loved do not know how to help me wade through something as catastrophic as this. Amidst all this, I want to ask you - What song did you listen to at the last? Didn't music, the very thing my blood is made up of, and the very thing that carried you through your darkest hours, save you at last? I cannot even hate it because it is the only thing that gives me the warmest hugs whenever I crave them. You see, I have been served only mango ice cream at three different events. The flavour you loved the most. Maybe you are trying to let me know of your presence. Maybe all the random songs that pop into my mind out of nowhere are sent by you to reassure me that everything is fine with you. Or maybe this is how I try to make sense of my grief. There are days when I feel perfectly normal. Like you are still out there, plotting your next annoying remark as a reply to something I posted online. And then there are days when I feel that my solar plexus has ruptured, with all the seven stages of grief colliding with each other inside my body. I'm never going to bid you goodbye as something or the other clangs at my heart with a remembrance of you. I will grow around this, keep flourishing as I always did, and let this pain co-exist peacefully with all my other emotions. It's funny how time has suddenly become a villain in my life. Throughout January, I was irritated that the month wasn't moving fast. I even willed it to go to February soon. Now, what wouldn't I sacrifice for it to be January 31st once again? But every morning, my phone flashes a date that's so alien to me. It will never be January 31st, 2025, again. We both loved time travel so much. In the end, I have realized that time is the only thing that cannot be bent. Time, to you in another plane, is an illusion. Time, to me in this murky reality, will be a healer. Time, my arch nemesis, will keep both of us safe. Kavya Janani. U
February 22, 2025 at 1:34 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
11:11 🪷
February 21, 2025 at 5:41 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
LUCID is gonna be my word of the year.
February 15, 2025 at 8:59 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
I never thought I would rewatch DARK as a means of coping with my grief. This is my 2nd rewatch in the last 5 years. In the first watch, we discussed every single detail in it. In the rewatch, we understood so many unknown things. Now I'm all alone in this rewatch 😭
February 11, 2025 at 2:58 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Someone invent an effing time machine. I don't want to use it for myself. I just wanna go back to last night and save my friend from taking his life. I wanna whack his head. This guilt, this sorrow, this grief, it's going to destroy me for some time. Eff you, 2025! Eff you!
February 1, 2025 at 4:53 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Reassure me that I'm not the only one who felt January had 365 days.
January 31, 2025 at 4:55 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
nerdlegame 1108 3/6

⬛⬛⬛🟪🟪🟩⬛⬛
⬛⬛⬛🟪🟩🟩⬛⬛
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

That was a cute, cute puzzle!
January 31, 2025 at 2:24 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
nerdlegame 1104 3/6

🟪🟪⬛⬛🟪🟪🟪⬛
⬛⬛🟪🟩⬛🟪⬛🟪
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Wow!
January 27, 2025 at 8:07 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
👀
January 26, 2025 at 1:58 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Whatever crisis you are going through, just blame it all on today's planetary alignment 🌚
January 25, 2025 at 4:20 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Back in 2021, I did this small experiment. I took a dark poem of mine and wrote a happier version. It was truly cathartic. Read both the versions below and let me know what you think.

#KJDreamyPoet
IF YOU'RE ARE LOOKING FOR A RAY OF HOPE IN THIS POEM, YOU'LL FIND NONE Wake up and become a never-resting Ferris wheel, each cabin carrying a responsibility. Oh, how I wish I could unhinge myself and become a rollercoaster for once. My bones are haunted houses, thick with emptiness and suppressed energies. I am always climbing staircases that lead nowhere. Neither there are landings nor plush carpets to comfort my parched foot. What am I, if not a rag-doll stuffed with suffering? I am already a succulent abode of ache that I cannot be overwatered with more tribulations. On most days, I am a lump of sand stuck to the top of an hourglass, dribbling, dribbling, dribbling, to become a mound of disappointment to myself. I sashay through time's fickle passage, scratch nostalgia's skin, and juice every object around me, all for a sip of peace, but all I find is my body warming up to this mundane's caress. I warned you about not finding hope in this poem, so please stay away from this decrepit woman. Kavya Janani. U THE SUN BUILDS A HOME IN THIS POEM Wake up and become a water-fountain, bursting with so much energy that I can flood the pathway. I don't want to still. I don't want to become a sleeping river. I am my own honey. My bones are mansions, thick with the celebration of self-love, my name a decree chanted by the flowers. I am always climbing staircases that lead me to the sun. The steps are mottled with gold carpets to soothe my tired feet. What am I, if not a daffodil in human form? I am succulent with bliss and hence I let sorrow moonwalk off my heart. On most days, I am a sea of starlight, glowing, glowing, glowing, to become a breath of bright blue. I waltz to the tune of my heart (I am enough, I am enough), burn the embers of my past, kiss my heartbreaks a goodbye, and find myself sleeping on a bed of sunflowers. I am now a poem, encapsulating so much hope. So, come closer to this yellow soul. Kavya Janani. U
January 24, 2025 at 5:14 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Successfully my flu has come to the point where my voice has turned into that of a donkey's. Now my mind is like - yes, this is the right time to want to hum and sing.
January 23, 2025 at 6:19 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Wordle 1,313 4/6

⬛⬛🟩⬛⬛
⬛🟨🟩⬛🟨
🟨🟩🟩🟨⬛
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Sharing it here because 1313 is my favourite number ☺️
January 22, 2025 at 8:07 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Is it the season of lizards already? 🤢
January 22, 2025 at 12:58 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
#Books2025 🧵

1. The Good Husband of Zebra Drive by Alexander McCall Smith

This series is my prescription. The books are my medicines. I need 3-4 doses a year to keep me sane. Ordered the next 4 books so that I can squeeze in 2 or 3 more this year.

#BookSky 📚💙 #Books
The Good Husband of Zebra Drive by Alexander McCall Smith
January 19, 2025 at 2:37 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
An Improved Heart ✨ From the 2020 archives ☺️
#KJDreamyPoet
I have sewn all my ventricles With broken shards of glass. The next time you touch my heart With palms smeared with hurt, You'd have to write apologies With the blood oozing From your beige fingertips. My heart is no longer A squishy fat tomato That you can cut into pieces And add to your salad Made of gaslighting syllables. Now there flows in my aorta The liquid gold of the sun. You still try to dip Frozen Antarctic lakes in it. Now they don't sting me. They melt, melt, melt. My heart no longer needs A sensitivity toothpaste, darling. My heart leaks so much love, But this time it's for Nourishing my scarred veins. Now my heart is a pancake. I top it with honeyed dreams, Cheeses made of liberalism, And berried independence, But not with your misogyny. My heart is a soil that no longer Absorbs dominance, darling. For once, my heart is owned Not by your patriarchy, But by myself and myself only. Kavya Janani. U
January 19, 2025 at 3:26 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Am I slowly fading away from this place? 👀 No, I'm not using Twitter as a diary, it's still just a music account over there. Then, why don't I feel the pull to articulate my thoughts here? Am I...totally zoned out? 👀
January 13, 2025 at 3:51 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
#waffle1088 5/5

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
🟩⭐🟩⭐🟩
🟩🟩⭐🟩🟩
🟩⭐🟩⭐🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

🔥 streak: 7
wafflegame.net

What a start!
January 13, 2025 at 1:25 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Today, someone I know looked like a sunflower 🌻 I probably can't tell them this, so I'm putting it out here 😌
January 10, 2025 at 1:48 PM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
nerdlegame 1087 3/6

⬛⬛⬛🟩🟪🟪🟩🟩
⬛🟪⬛🟩⬛🟪🟩🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Yayyyy!
January 10, 2025 at 1:36 AM
teainnumvarala.bsky.social
Eating rusk dipped in tea reminds me of how much it felt ambrosial to eat the same during my postpartum period in 2018 😌
January 9, 2025 at 1:24 PM