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
I am staring at the fabric of my life and dread begins to find its way toward me.
I am blanketed by the moons of Jupiter and the vicious emerald blood of my planet flowing through my veins.
I am watching my epitaph. It stands still, but it is coated with films of betrayal and false promises which reads “Staying happy in her own skin.”
My stomach churns. My ribs ache with pain. My head hurts with all the noises.
Fear is something which only you can control it and know it like it fits you like a glove. Only you can master it. You are all you have. Bear this in mind. The sole solution to all your problems is your fear. I have kept it away from me as I loathed it like rotting meat. When you merge it with patience, what you get is a secret, potent weapon.
I stand naked right beside my epitaph. Worms manifest my body. They are making their way toward my vagina and I stand immobile. I am choking on my own.
My carcass is a maze. What I have acquired now is the possession and power to pursue and see through it. This time the earth beneath me stands firm. Patience has never been kind to me. What I harbour is new to me. But I can’t figure as to how it will end. My emerald blood boils red. My fear rises.
A strong wind takes me by surprise. My moons no longer help me. They wither away with the first gust of the gruesome wind. All I have is me. A tired, old rag. I dance along with the incoming gusts. I sway to the wonderful rhythm. I create my own demon and unleash it. Together. Naked. We conquer the vulnerable.
The weight of the world is no longer on my shoulders.
Now I know that fear is inconsequential.
Now I know what I am worthy of.
Now I know where patience can lead me.
Count on yourself to be happy. Always. You deserve to be because what you are today is because of your past. You are standing erect today because of the choices you made.
Tell me honestly. Would you be still standing here if you have not fallen and locked up yourself in a crate? All if these have led you here. You have made an effort to try and take the paths not taken. But yes, the consequences were inferior. You will never get past that. Isn’t it natural for hundreds of paths to be altered?
You deserve to be happy because you know there’s no point in hiding. You isolate yourself and remain in your own bubble, not wanting to be pricked. You deserve the power within you which you failed to recognize for the past years. You deserve to be happy because you have fought for long with yourself.
The time has come for you to embody your dreams. Yes maybe you are slow, maybe you’re devoid of talents but trust me this is what you will be needing for the days to come. Some days better than the others.
Happiness deserves you. It has waited far too long, despite your loathing and flawed self. Happiness deserves you because you are worth waiting for.
I have been falling again and again. There seems to be no end to it. I am picking up my shit together and making an effort to rise. But that is when my legs let go, making me sink in the delirious clay. I have been looking at the past few years of my life and the only thing which comes to my mind is – What have I been doing all this time?
It was real tough for me to turn back the pages of the meaningless chapters. It was tough when I saw my own reflection in the mirror. But I couldn’t recognize the monster staring right through me. Her eyes piercing through my soul and looking beneath it.
What little I have learnt from the years that built me is that I don’t have the time to show people how I feel. Because for one moment if I let that dam open, then floods of terrible emotions would gush out. Rapidly. Damaging everything. Emotions which were savaged beyond recognition long ago.
Its like walking the road at midnight and all you see are pale contours. Your own footsteps echoing at a distance. Fading. All you hear is the hum of hellhounds. You are reminded of the beast within you every time you tumble. You are reminded of your own self. A rag doll which can be shown lilac skies, which is damaged and beyond repair.
But I will also cut the skin of anyone who tries to touch me, ever. I will suppress my urge to leave burnt marks on whomever I touch.
And that’s when you know. You succumb to your own grief. Yes, this is grief and I have vehemently surrendered to it.
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
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.
Before late realization hits you hard, you will have all things sorted out.
You will enjoy your morning coffee everyday.
You will put on a new dress and hang out with your best friend with whom who have not met for ages.
You will pack your bags for a short trip in the country side.
You will chat with your neighbours in that park bench which you always noticed while coming back from work.
You will turn on the T.V. and watch crap telly, followed by Chinese takeout.
You will meet someone with whom you will share your ideologies which go on in your chaotic mind.
You will take out that leaflet from your purse and contact the NGO.
You will make yourself a cup of coffee and curl up on the sofa reading Jane Eyre.
You will wake up everyday with a thousand mega-watt smile.
You will find enjoying yourself.
You will find out the real you.
I wake up with a jolt. Feel my pulse. No. Not feverish at all. I look at the clock. It says 3 :15 a.m. I can hear my own coarse breathing. I feel that my neck is covered in beads of sweat. I empty the bottle of water by my bed with two and try hard to close my eyes. Next thing I know I see a little girl. She follows me wherever I go. She has wild, unruly and unkempt hair which falls in heaps across her face. She is staring at me intently. I can’t see her. She is like a silhouette. All I can see is her face. The rest of her body seems to be clad in darkness. All I can see is a face, devoid of body parts. Her stance changes and she lunges at me. I stand right there, paralyzed. I try to run but the earth underneath has engulfed my legs in. I am incapable of running from her. I am angry at myself at this observation that the girl standing right in front of me is a living manifestation inside me and she is tearing me apart. She is me. My own self. Sometimes she suffocates me, draining out what little life I have left inside me. Sometimes she just stands there. Watching. Waiting to pounce.
She is a shade of own self and envelops me, depriving me of the colors of life. How wrong I was when I expected the moments of ordinary life filled with hues. But the truth was that it was filled with bitter charcoal. She is responsible for the vagueness. She holds on to me, against my will and whispers to me about the pleasures of life.
I don’t have any solution as to how I can escape her. I cannot. She is my own self. Going through all the motions, she holds me with real physical force. I try, but with time comes exhaustion. And I lose the battle. I give in. The girl slowly converges into my body and finally I am at peace. I bid adieu to the madman inside me ages ago. Why try now, when you know the authenticity of it? Only then do I give in. The girl jars me with all her might. I drown gradually wishing for colourful skies, fairy lights, bloomed flowers and lanterns. But there’s no escaping. No. There’s no escape from this.