I think perhaps one of the biggest changes I've undergone since coming to college is the way I use Facebook.

In high school, it was my primary mode of communication with friends: I'd spend long hours chatting with friends, hopping mindlessly from profile to profile and repeatedly refreshing my News Feed. Today, on the other hand, I use it mainly to find concerts and other events. Seriously, I scroll through my News Feed searching for events that my friends are "interested" in and see if any are worth going to. And thank God for that "interested" button, or else I would have never been able to see Rupi Kaur launch and read her new book of poems.

Now, I'm not one who has a vested interest in poetry.

It's been the one form of art that I've never understood and hence have never been able to fully appreciate. So, there was a hint of trepidation in my mind as I purchased my tickets for the event, but hey, what was I losing by going? I would say I was more curious than interested. My minimal exposure to poetry had been in school, where we read long ballads and poems by poets such as Tennyson, Frost and Neruda. It would usually take me a couple of reads to finally understand what the poet was saying, and even then its meaning remained blurry at best. There was only one right answer when it came poetry, and as my English teacher affirmed, I somehow always got it wrong. In my head, poetry was a convoluted, dense and a rather torpid way of expressing yourself.

So, when the date for her book launch arrived, I was, again, more curious than interested. And two Uberpools, mindless wandering and a 100m sprint ( don't ask) later, we made it to the Memorial Church at Harvard for the event. The Church was packed and the only seats we found were right at the back, in a corner where we had absolutely no view of the stage or of Kaur. We all got free copies of the book though, so we weren't really complaining.

The roar she received when she made her entry on stage, akin to one a rock star might receive, had me slightly puzzled. But, when she started reading her poems, it became clear why. The beauty of her poems is how much she conveys by saying so little. Rupi Kaur's poetry is very real. Though writing about feelings, emotions and struggles, she doesn't forget the backdrop against which they are set. For instance, when writing about storming out of a meeting with her therapist, she adds in the next line that she paid far too much money to just leave now!

Her voice is both soothing and arousing at the same time. The mystique she brought into her reading transcended her work. The words were harmonious alright, but she sure did make them dance with her voice.

She understands the world we live in and doesn't pointedly ignore it as most poets choose to do. In my previously short flirtation with poetry, I noted that most poets get caught up in obscurity; the belief that complex references and esoteric thoughts enhance their work. Kaur completely shuns this school of thought; her metaphors are relatable, her language clear and her work riveting.

Rupi Kaur's poetry is very real. Very tangible. There is this nakedness about her work; she bares her heart out on the pages. The 'oohs', lip smacks of approval, applause and appreciative sighs were constant companions to the readings and added to the whole experience.

Towards the end of the show, we abandoned our seats and plopped ourselves down on the central aisle. We'd paid $20 for the ticket, and we weren't going to leave without at least seeing her in person. She wasn't just reading poems out from her book; she was swaying to them, and if you looked close enough, so was everyone else there.