About Diksha
Diksha Prasanna was born in Bangalore, India. She moved to the UK for a business degree at Queen Mary University, London.
By day, she is a product strategist at a bank but says, “My soul is far more eclectic. Whether it’s a 1,000-piece puzzle or editing my digital art on the Tube, I’m always busy with a project.
Camberwell is home now and I’m not planning on leaving!”
Quick Q&A
Favourite place in Camberwell?
SE5 is far too charming to pick just one. The library is my ultimate comfort spot, but I’m most at home wandering the quiet bylanes or getting lost in the local café scene (though you’ll find me ordering a Sprite rather than a coffee!).
Line you admire?
“I am the master of my fate:/ I am the captain of my soul.” from Invictus by William Ernest Henley.
Writing habit?
Ideas usually spark during long train journeys or while staring out at Grove Lane with a cold drink. I find myself sketching on the bus or jotting thoughts down while walking through the Green; the rhythm of Camberwell is perfect for shaking loose new concepts, which I later refine at my desk.
Where to find out more?
People are more than welcome to reach me at dikshapgowda9@gmail.com for collaborations or enquiries.
I think you tricked me into loving you
You didn’t make a good first impression.
I arrived at night, slightly disoriented, pretending I knew where I was going when I absolutely didn’t.
Everything felt temporary. Even me.
But you didn’t care about that.
The next morning, you came in loud.
Sirens first. Sharp, unapologetic. Then the traffic lights, pinging like background music. Then a man outside The Tiger,
singing like the street was his stage. And right there, in the middle of all that chaos, your butterfly. Painted, still, certain.
And somehow, that’s what got me. You were just being exactly what you are — vibrant, layered, a little chaotic and quietly beautiful.
And I stayed.
I stayed through bus stop routines R, S, F, like coded checkpoints of my life. Through long walks where I got lost on
purpose, pretending every Victorian house had a story just for me. Through days when I had somewhere to be and days
when I absolutely didn’t.
You’ve seen me dramatic, exhausted, thriving, confused and sometimes all in one afternoon.
I’ve sat in the library in that brown furry hoodie so often I’m convinced I’m part of the furniture now. I’ve had full
conversations with trees in your park; Dorothy listens, Peggy judges. Deeply.
I’ve also, quite seriously, admired your drain covers. Photographed them. Revisited them. They’re literal art and I stand by
that, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.
I’ve run back to you after long days like you were something solid. Something certain.
And the thing is, you are.
Even when I left, you didn’t let it stick. I came back. Of course I did.
Now it’s the little things. Familiar faces at crossings. The quiet nods. The rush to the Windrush line. Lidl runs that turn into
photo stops because the light hits just right and there’s The Shard, peeking in like it knows you’re special too.
So, somewhere between your chaos and your calm,
I found a version of myself that made sense.
Camberwell, you’re not just home. You’re where I became.
With Love,
Diksha
CQ’s poetry editor Adam Newey is happy to consider poems for publication in CQ. Submit one poem
and a 50 word bio to Adam Newey (stauntonmarie@gmail.com). Local poets and SE5 links prioritised
