I smell liquor.
off your mouth in a grey evening
standing close in a crisp white T-shirt,
staring into my eyes
hazel to teal.
I hear Nina Simone
from your playlist.
Your heated whisper “Because you’re mine.”
And you pull me into
those comforting arms of yours,
my only place to abide by.
I see temptation and need.
Your hoarse voice
echoing the lifeless walls of my room
“I need you so.”
I am on my knees now.
Your honesty disarms me,
your touch makes me reel like
I am a spiritual beast
in search of piety.
I sense fear
In your jagged breathing
with your head on my chest,
your arms encircling my waist.
My unsteady heartbeat not mirroring yours,
you look at me.
Searching for disclosure
my masked emotions deceiving you.
You take me at your pace.
Slowly, savouring every bit.
I will worship you
For you showed me the depth of walls of passion,
for you beguile me
and I let go
daring to fly, daring to be Icarus again.
And despite me being torn up,you have a wealth of love to give.
You didn’t run.
You chose to lay your world at my feet.
I will tell you tales.
of maple scented whiskey,
of sensual mornings,
of your legs braided in mine.//
I will tell you tales.
of scandalous affairs,
of queer humans,
of my body feasted by you in our dens.//
I will tell you tales.
of numerous Beadon Streets we walked,
of sidewalks we laid our feet on,
of barricades we tumbled upon.
I will tell you tales.
of your soggy lips,
pastel blue with a shade of warm red,
which smell of lilac coloured evenings.
Here I am now,
You snuggling up to my chest,
Both of us draped in prism shades.//
The Pride month is drawing closer yet the situation here, in India doesn’t seem to change.
Don’t you want to see rainbow flags draped over their bodies, marching and singing?
Or do you want to keep them out of the streets? Saying they don’t belong here? Thinking they are filthy creatures in our so polished society?
They live within us. They are humans. What grave mistake have they committed by being born?
Shout out against gender inequalities and biasness.
Picture © Anna Dart
Now that he is gone, you don’t look forward to the rays of warmth peeking from your window. You plan to put your phone on divert mode and pull the duvet over your head and get lost in the longing emptiness. But your limbs will you and you get up from your now ragged mattress and the ground beneath somehow supports you to the dining space. You are both angry and sad at yourself.
Was there anything less? Maybe he was tired of my whiny talks every night. What was it that made this happen?
Even as you mourn your loss, you are happy that he died before you did. You can still wake up knowing that he won’t be there beside you, curled up like a rose devoid of thorns. That you have to order for one every time you decide to have coffee. You are happy that he died before you because as you walk through the streets with your arms folded, you will be reminded of the walks every evening. He will be there to ensure that you don’t trip and fall.
Even though he is gone he will always be there to heal you. You will dig deep into those arguments and the moments and would want to know every fibre of what he meant.
Men are literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. Maybe I wasn’t perfect enough for him, then. Was there nothing that I could’ve done? Just to undo this? This pain hugging my chest?
As the hands of the clock tick by swiftly, he will heal you. He will make you remember what you meant to him and how much compatible you were with him. He will show you what you are still capable of. Still worthy of.
Even though he is gone, he will see through you and nurture the hope. He will heal you and see to it whether you dare to dream again. Whether you would be willing to try and start afresh. With time he will teach how to how growing up means “turning your pain into a rose that is easy for someone to hold”. With time, he will teach how healing isn’t just reciprocation.
Picture © Agastopia
I stare at the lizard picking the corner of its mouth. The darkness has shrouded me but I can see crystal clear. The ceiling has lost its colour. The distemper paint is weathering off already. I fall into a rhythm. Switch on the bed lamp. Switch it off. On. Off. On. Off.
You are all alone, you piece of shit. Nobody here to help. This life belongs to you. You have such little time left. Didn’t listen when I told you that you would end up like this. Taste it, maggot. Taste it.
The thing is when you are illuminated you go back to your old ways. How can I tell you that I feel happy and depressed at the same moment? You have to honour and thank your senses for letting you live. Longer than you ever imagined. The bad is more but you feel what possible mistake would you make if you indulge in a little good?
You can do whatever you see fit with your life. Its your decision to make. As I told you before, its an odyssey in which you can be your own mistress. You just need to have a bit of both patience and faith.
So you’re 17 now. Probably thinking how to go through your finals. Suicide feels a real possibility. You have thought about it numerous times. But coward that you are. You can’t even empty a bottle of pills in one go. And every time you take out the scalpel from your biology box you feel sheepish. You stop midway between opening a vein and revert. You have no idea whether this would heal you or destroy you completely. Why not give it a try?
You are all alone, you piece of shit. What was your perception of life? All rainbows and flowers?
That’s it then. Sixteen years in this sublime place. I am so grateful for having a few people in my life and who listened to every bit of chit-chat I did. I wish I could tell you about all this. Each and every bit of thought caged in my dull mind. But words fail me. How can I point fingers when I am the one who’s responsible, where I am the one who’s fallen.
Taste it, maggot. You deserve it.
Picture : © The Chronicle
Have you ever heard of the dark side? Its a place where you find shabby pages with secrets, age old proverbs scribbled on the lifeless walls. Madonnas depriving them of their natural beauty. Demons lurking inside. Waiting to pounce upon you.
Let me tell you. Its a place where love is defined as fine as fallacy. You will feel your bile rising in your throat. Its the place where each and everyone wants to be accepted. You feel real sick. The colour of your blood turning emerald with every turn of event.
It a place which harbours your bitterness. Your vicious beast kept at bay. Your treacherous, destructive self that you bred for so long.
You know this yourself. You are driven. But every time you look at yourself in the ill fated mirror, the ghost like face stares back at you with disgust. You are fucked up on too many levels. You are tired of the false assurances. That’s the time when the axioms which are never meant to rejuvenate, surface.
What now? What are you afraid of? Is it cleaving a vein that has made you a coward?
Don’t think for one second that it is the place where medication and solution based therapy shit is going to help you. Its not.
You are going to pay for your abominable mess.
Picture : © Amartya Khan
adjective ta·boo \tə-ˈbü
: not acceptable to talk about or do
:forbidden to profane use or contact because of what are held to be dangerous supernatural powers.
That’s how Webster defines the word.The taboos exist because of us. Because of the nature, itself. No. Neither the “main-stream” Indians nor the “chinky” Indians are responsible for this. India is the homeland of North East. Or is it the other way round? Think about it. Our country is home to them. And they spending every moment of their life in this country. And I forgot to mention xenophobia. I have even heard people commenting about Chinese looking people and the fear haunting them. Wait. What. Honestly?
Omitting the rape cases, things are not as smooth as they go. People have slowly started assimilating for their own good.
Next we come to the stereotypes.
North eastern girls are shameless.
- You may have come across this too. They happen dress in a way which men find them desirable. Do people who hold on to such taboos know that its not just clothes, but the perception of shame also, which is culture. Let me spell out that loud for you. C-U-L-T-U-R-E.
- Its a known fact that some Naga and Mizo tribes eat dogs. Mainstream Indians say the hill people have no compassion because of this. Just like the way we love goats, chicken and not to mention beef, they too see them as food. Can you consider it now? It a lifestyle choice. They have settled the way they want to. And we, most of all people have no right to point fingers.
North Easterners are spoiling Indian culture by pretending to be very Western or rather South East Asian
- I was watching Pink the other day and Andrea caught my attention. While she was being questioned in the court, she was the only person who was continually asked – “So you’re from the North East?” How come was this not asked to other people present who came from Rajasthan or Andhra Pradesh? As Deepak Saigal put it. Talk about colonization. Before the Japanese Forces got a hold, the north east was not isolated. They had their own religions, worshipped gods, river nymphs. As the British came in during the 1940s, many settled in the Brahmaputra Valley. Many in Myanmar. And many were converted into Christianity by the British. The church exposed them to the standards of the present world, scripts for their own languages, education and solace from the demons (us). That has made them look up to the church and its “Western ways.”
They are the seven sisters. They are landlocked between. They want peace. They want a little bit of humanity. They are far from mainstream India. Huddled in their daily chores.
Raise your voice. They too have a story to tell.