an honest confession.

December 29, 2012 § 116 Comments

i have something to admit. it has nothing to do with how i screwed up my life this gone year, or how i have big plans for the new year’s eve. nothing of that sort.

i admit i am ashamed to be an Indian.

ashamed to belong to a city where women are gang-raped, and have a steel rod shoved inside their vagina; before they are thrown off a moving bus.

a city where throwing acid on a girl who has rejected a local goon’s love  for her is as common as the sun rising in summers.

where women are objectified and are molested in broad daylight. daily.

ironically, i also belong to the same country who worship their Goddess’s in the form of Durga, Parvati and Saraswati.

the ones who are reading this and are Indian, are perhaps feeling the same indignation and anger as i do. the ones who are not Indian, contrary to the other posts of my blog, trust me; i am NOT that strong to narrate the incident. it gives me goosebumps.

when a Bin Laden does a 9/11 on the USA, an Obama makes sure that his countrymen are done justice to. sadly, we don’t have an Obama. not even close. we have masked politicians who prefer hiding in their stone houses, than assuring their own people that they will be taken care of.

but what we do have is the youth of my nation. kids, who are politically aware; women who know when to raise an alarm; students who can stare back at the Police in  the eye. we can, and will change the nation. they might break our bones with a lathi charge or soak our ideas with a water cannon or even tear apart our dreams with tear gas shells; but that will NOT stop us.

we will pave our way to change. so that next time, a part of me does not die when i watch news on the national television. so that i can look my daughter in the eye confidently when she leaves home for college. so that we, the fairer sex, stop submitting to anything that makes us lower our dignity.

so that there isn’t another Nirbhaya in my country.

#nirbhaya: the unafraid one.

I Part II.

December 27, 2012 § 14 Comments

I don’t sin

I am the sin.

I don’t want love

I am love.

I don’t write poetry

I am poetry.

I don’t see the point

I am the point.

I don’t do drugs

I am the drug.

I don’t die

I kill.

Death-II.

December 20, 2012 § 12 Comments

I curdle the sky with
a gush of madness.The stars go sour and
the winds tear my
skin. The love we
had, has been poisoned.
That, must be the
Dark Side of the
Moon.

Honeyed knives are forced
into my mouth so i can
stop talking.
My limbs are tied so
i cannot move or run away.
He talks me into it,
and i believe that i am
helpless.

Slowly, he enters my room.
And possesses all of me.
There is no me and him
anymore. It is us.

I met death last night.
He did like my black coffee.

A Flower’s Lament.

December 16, 2012 § 16 Comments

I remember when you first saw me
as you walked through the garden.
My fragrance and beauty attracted you
soothed your soul.

You visited me everyday and spent hours just watching me
you put me on a pedestal and worshipped me
you loved me so much.

Then I gave you the infamous rose coloured glasses
the ones that made you think that the world is pretty
that made you think that you can see better
you loved me so much.

Then you tried to hold me
and I spat words that pierced your heart like thorns
I hit your soul.

And I lived with the guilt.
I had loved you too.
I wished I would wither and die.

You chose to walk off me.
You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

I didn’t die.
I became more beautiful.

You passed the garden again and saw me
the aroma of nostalgia filled the air
you took off the glasses and left them at my feet
as you walked away, you heard footsteps.
You turned around
saw a boy admiring me.

He loved me so much.

image

Memories.

December 12, 2012 § 14 Comments

The letter she would write to him
The happy memories they were to create
The curtains she was to choose for their room
The wines they were to collect
The crystal bowls she was to love
The Bayern posters he was to adore
The saree she was to wear for their engagement
The quotes of marriage they were to laugh over
The unconditional love she was to recieve from his parents
The old, old dictionary his paa was to gift her
The home they were to build together.

In minutes it was gone.
Burnt to ashes by the fire they set on it.

Do you still see the memories we
have to make, when you look into my eyes?

Dimensions.

December 10, 2012 § 22 Comments

The distance doesn’t matter,
especially when you know
you’re going to spend an
eternity with someone. Time
and space are finite and
tangible when i put the
ground between my heels to
find you; and they are as
fickle as the winds that blow
carrying faraway whispers
from your lips to my ears.

On Consciousness.

December 5, 2012 § 12 Comments

Worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty, their blind strength and tenacity. They lacked nothing; there was nothing the knowledgeable one, the thinker, had to put above them except for one little thing, a tiny, small thing: the consciousness, the conscious thought of the oneness of all life.

And Siddhartha even doubted in many an hour, whether this knowledge, this thought was to be valued thus highly, whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people, of the thinking and childlike people. In all other respects, the worldly people were of equal rank to the writer men, were often far superior to them; just as animals too can, after all, in some moments, seem to be superior to humans in their tough, unrelenting performance of what is necessary.

Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha.

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