Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Torn.

He hugged me, a warmth spreading through the veins of my body and blood gushing across from under my pale brown skin. He tried to let me go, I tightened my hands wrapping it around his back, I felt safer hugging him - he wanted to let me go even as I shivered. A few silent tussles after, he succeeded and I felt a void fill the insides of me as I looked up to see his face. There was no one. It was my own comfort trying to comfort me; my own insecurity and my own sense of unfulfilment, my ingratitude and my cynicism getting the better of me. For years I shrugged love, comfort and security, the three things I crave the most today. I took them for granted, for they came to me served on a silver platter.

His eyes filled with love still haunts me as I go to bed with my pillow for company.
I am still reminded of his strong arms when I see someone lifting heavy objects for me across a staircase.
I sometimes mistakenly dial his number every time I need to make a gas reservation.
I miss his white teeth and the wonderful smile he always welcomed me with whenever he greeted me.
I used to love the way his hair ruffled in the wind and a tiny wisp would settle down on his forehead and he would brush it aside, smilingly.
I never miss a single birthday of his, wishing him promptly at the stroke of twelve.
I still smile at the frayed ends of the black and white photograph we took years ago one sultry afternoon on the beach after we decided that we'd be together till death do us apart.

Unfortunately, death really did do us apart.


Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Men I've met

Disclaimer: At the outset I would like to state that this post is extremely biased, written from the point of view of the people have met, opinions can differ, there is no right or wrong. You can agree with me or present your viewpoint and experiences.

In the twenty-three years of my existence, I have been exposed to a variety of men - well, not quite literally, but you get what I mean. This is an amalgamation of all that I have seen from personal experience, by observing people and after listening to woe stories from my girl pals. So ladies and gentlemen (oops, not for children), here's Yours Truly presenting to you, the different types of men.


Daddy's David:
This guy has all the luxury in the world, lives on the father's money and cribs about how his dad 'sometimes' does not give him enough cash to, hold on guys, party. David is pampered, spoiled and extremely superficial. He owns a credit card, a debit card, drives his dad's second or third car and literally blows all his money out and asks his dad for more. He knows how to impress girls - bouquets, fancy dinner dates, expensive gifts and sometimes random road trips to places where his girlfriend will upload 'sun-kissed' selfies. He convinces everyone around him to believe that he is the most prized possession and deserves to be showered with only the best. Guilty, who? No, I deserve this. Well, he is selfish as hell. His interests are mostly up-scale and rarely long-lasting. Unfortunately, so are his relationships.  

Self-made Sam: 
Sam is self-sufficient, spends cautiously but generously, has fun and brings out the reaction that every situation demands of him. Sam is responsible and extremely determined. He earns the tag of being the Best Employee at work, Ideal Son at home and the Perfect Boyfriend in a relationship. Sam lives for others - sometimes he is adventurous but is mostly very serious. Sam believes in culture and values. He would do anything to make others happy, even if that makes him miserable from the inside. He doesn't take risks and looks out for a 'settled and comfortable' life. His vacations are planned three months in advance and will never cancel one thing for the other. Indian parents go looking out for a Sam for their daughters, unfortunately.

Stingy Steven:
Steven is smart, Steven likes to save money but Steven is stingy to such an extent that he will be completely fine living a miserable life despite having all the money. Steven doesn't spend on food, rarely shops (read shabby clothes), counts every penny he has loaned and almost always never pays for the bill (I forgot my wallet, could you pay this time please?). The most he could do is split it. And he goes all guns blazing for free food and drinks. Steven even judges you by the amount of money you spend and secretly wishes he could too. Stinginess is a disease, it really is. 

Broke Bob:
Bob is forever broke, borrows money from you and hardly ever thinks of returning it. Bob cancels out on plans because his money is never enough, travels in second class and insists on taking a lunch box every time he goes out and yearns for money he could have had - you can't really blame him, he is just poor. He's emotionally fragile and ends up blaming the Universe for what he doesn't have and takes no effort whatsoever to alter his situation - maybe we should rechristen him 'Lazy and Broke Bob' . 

Show-off Sheldon: 
Sheldon is smart, self-sufficient, earns well and spends generously. He is very lovable and fun loving, adventurous and outgoing. But there is a small glitch - he does and overdoes all of it and to top it all, shows off. He discusses in detail about the amount of money he spends - his international trip plans, bank balance, the latest car or mobile phone he plans to buy, casually flashes his Mont Blanc Limited Edition Masterpiece pen while signing in a restaurant and exclaims how a piece of land in Maldives will be a good idea for a farmhouse or how he is planning to open up forty yoga studios in one of the metro cities in India. Incorrigible Sheldon's show-off skills work well to spread publicity but is absolutely unnecessary otherwise and brings nothing but embarrassment to the women with him.  

That's all from me, folks. 

Sunday, February 7, 2016

CLANDESTINE

The boots crushed them down, 
The gravel - they cracked and creaked
She took the quietest possible route to meet,
her soul-mate and to cheat.

She called him out and off they went, 
into the jungles and away from the rest.

They held hands and made crazy love,
She let out screams, of ecstasy and lust
Echoing through the forest and how.  

Sunday, November 29, 2015

HOPE.

Hope is when you are three and set a balloon free, thinking it will reach the moon.
Hope is tooth fairy, hope is Santa Claus' gift and hope is a birthday-candle-wish. 
Hope is when you are sixteen and stand by the traffic signal and shout your prices hoarse for people to buy your colouring books.
Hope is, waiting outside the intensive care unit for the doctor to bring relief.
Hope is when you are eighteen and still look at the door expectantly for your dad to return from the war-front.
Hope is, believing that your team will make it to the winners’ table in the dying minutes of a game.
Hope is anxiously looking at your phone as the clock strikes twelve, for that one long-distance call on your birthday.
Hope is getting into a moving train with bags bigger than you for sale, only to make ends meet.
Hope is when you are marooned on an island and spot a waving hand out-of-the blue.
Hope is when you are seventy two and stand on the pavement selling incense sticks on a bright and sweltering Sunday afternoon - undeterred, undaunted.
Hope is waiting for the weekend so you get to see your grandchildren and buy them ice-creams to soothe their screeches.
Hope is thinking about that long lost loved one each night before you go to bed, imagining how things could change even now, every striking minute of your life.

Hope is trying to put everything together when everything is crumbling into shreds of disappointment. Hope is painful. Hope is wonderful. Hope is the bird that sings when the dawn is still awfully dark and eerily scary. 

Hope is a perspective. 
Hope is the one thing that will ever be.  

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Broken Bane.

Shattered - smaller fragments, bigger chunks
Image Courtesy: Mozaico Art 
Every time she tried to fix, it broke more
She felt weak and suppressed, mistrusted and doubted

She looked for the crumbled pieces scattered along the shores of life
It went in vain as the pieces buried themselves unwillingly in shame, guilt, regret and fear
She walked for long along the path to find love,
Tried to get herself back together
Looked for the broken pieces so she could fix
The distance between herself and her soul

But it was too late and her soul left her,
Making her feel unloved and unwanted,
With a single rose next to her body on the bed

Sunday, September 20, 2015

A one-night stand.

She let out a loud scream, her ecstasy overpowering her ability to moderate her loudness. She felt the juices of her insides flowing through the sides of her thighs, onto her shins and almost dripping down to the floor as she leaned on the hard wooden table. The warmth filled her body with intense heat, she could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead and upper lip. She bit her lip as she wanted more - this warmth was what she had been waiting for all these days. 

A pair of hands ran across her stomach, kissed her stomach and slowly clutched her bare love handles and gently pushed her on to the bed. Her legs parted immediately and gave way for the hands to work again on her now twitching insides. She swooned to the momentum of the fingers, as it ran across it slowly, even slower and suddenly faster than she ever could imagine, making her wet the bedsheets and his hands with her bodily fluids. She felt a trickle, this time across her cheeks. She smiled as she noticed how her body could discharge different juices simultaneously albeit from different areas of the body. Letting out a sigh of relief and breathing out her guilt, she came all over him, screaming louder than before. 

Tired, as she lay on the bed, she pulled him closer for a wild French kiss, sloppy and steamy all the same while he continued to caress her curvaceous assets, pinching, squeezing and taunting them, until she let him go. She then kissed him on the neck hard enough, presenting him with a love bite as she thought of her lesbian girlfriend - she was now a cheating bisexual partner. 

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Love in a para.

Love makes you vulnerable, it makes you one-sided, it makes you judgemental, it softens your otherwise insensitive heart, it puts you down, helps you grow, gives you butterflies and kills them all. It makes you empty from within, clears you up, shakes the hell out of you, acts as a reality-check truck, tears you up and fixes you for the best. It prepares you for what lies ahead - teaches you how to handle mistakes and sometimes how to live with them. It blows your mind, sweeps you off-balance, saddens you and gives you joy out of the blue.
Love becomes your most beautiful fairytale dream and your most dreaded nightmare. It scares you out of your wits and makes you stronger.
At the end of it, you fall, you learn, you dream, you yearn, you fear, you envy, you know you've missed your chances. You pick yourself up but you keep going. It teaches you not one, but many lessons, of which falling in love all over again stands out to be the best you'll ever learn.