Reality

Fish fly in the Ocean
Birds swim in the Air

The Blind are the ones who see
this and other such truths

Words

Sometimes I have the urge to use a word just for the beauty of it.

Like ‘incessant’. Said that word out aloud several times and was quite taken by the feel of it on my tongue. Inncessssant. Hmmm. Liked the subtle nuances of its meaning – incessant touch bruising, incessant love cloying, incessant lure story of my life. All unnecessary, yet quite charming. Used it once, took it off because quite unnecessary.

Some words have not yet been used. Like absinthe. Guard it preciously. Jade velvet covered viscous word emitting dull green glow. Very precious word which I say out aloud. Also fact that its liquer. Forbidden. In the mind absinthe tends to poison. Poison. Careful.

Hubris. For obvious reasons. The image is of an Egyptian canine face. Anubis.

Tenebrae. Darkness. Grief. Self.

Lament. Inconsolable. Unadulterated beauty. In pain lies love, lies beauty.

Rant

Of the seven deadly sins, PRIDE is the one that is my very own. I’ve been told that it’s the root of all others. And I shall always wear this sin on my sleeve.

So, when pride takes a blow, it’s numbing and paralyzing. I find myself unable to move on. Yet, this pride is an animal inside me, all beaten and broken but still alive, still struggling to keep its spine ramrod straight. It is so easy to break me – I am not the wise grass that bends with the wind and bows to its awesome power. And I am broken. Crushed by the tremendous burden of this shame, my foolishness, my disgusting naiveté.

I must confess I am completely amoral. Yet I am shackled by a moral code that is more stringent than anything the society can devise.

Among other things, I believe that wanting to yield to carnal temptations is the most natural thing in the world – even when one is in a monogamous relationship. Forced monogamy, as practised by the society at large, by making divorce difficult and such assorted things, is absolute bull crap though it’s easy to see why it is necessary for the collective. On the other hand, I also believe that out of this utter nonsense that has been practised for ages there evolves something sublime and almost poetic, ridiculously so. And that is the genuine desire to give oneself completely to one person alone. No forcing, no contracts, no ratification by law, no bullshit.

Like I said, monogamy is unnatural and difficult. Has to be. Otherwise there’s no reason for all these sex hormones and oh-so-strong urges to procreate. Therefore, monogamy is the most beautiful gift one can give to a person one truly cares about. Complete, utter, blind trust, honesty, faithfulness. It is possible. It is possible.

Now, when some unlucky idjits like me do that, it inevitably backfires. Sub-humans who have not yet evolved to the level of understanding the concept do not deserve to be honoured so.

My muse has been envied. Rightly so. I would kill, steal, sell my soul for him. I would have. I was demanded that I blindly trust. I did. The more fool me.

My honest verses laugh at me. Each word, each syllable is shrill, mocking and unending. Like a pack of hyenas. I wear my shame and crouch in the corner.

I must bear this cross alone. I must lay down alone on the bathroom floor, moaning with silent pain. I can talk to no one, I must pretend normalcy when my heart threatens to stop.

The only way out of grief is through it. It’s a hell of a long walk.

Betrayal

So this is what betrayal feels like. Always thought it would gurgle up bitter, sour tastes in the throat. But it’s tasteless.

Delayed shock…

Is the only explanation. Because I loved you. A desperate, needy love. Though I was careful not to show it.

Shame

An inordinate amount of shame. Embarrassment. Like I’m naked in public, and I’m fat. Skin marred with deep pockmarks. The crowd boos. Shame. I feel ashamed.

Self Flagellation

I never learn. Never. Never. Never. I deserve this. What goes around comes back around. For all my analysis and semi intellectual rants I still walk straight into The Trap. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I hate dumb women. I’m one of them.

Worthless

I am a used tissue. Throw me away. My body is desert. The oasis is bloody. You will die of thirst. Do you drink blood?

Irony

Only yesterday, I rode the high waves of ecstasy. I needed just one whiff of his thought to get me so fucking high. Now, I am the undead. What happens when a 50 feet fall does not kill you? Look at me.

Fear

Of the truth. Of love. That I still love you. And that I always will.

Disgust

I want to puke. The thought of you cheating on me makes me want to throw up. My insides are in knots.

Hysteria

That I dreamt of carrying your child. Our child. Me. The bitch. The heartless lunatic who is all for population control.

Helpless

Inertia. My mouth is sewn shut. I can’t speak. This non-pain will tear me apart. I foresee it happening. I’m paralysed.

Lament

My love my love my love my love my love

Why have you forsaken me?

My verses have died premature. I wanted to write so much for you.

Record

This feeling. Because I will forget. I will not cry because I have no tears. The wound will close by my will alone. Because I am the strongest there is.

But I must remember this is how I felt. Feel? Do I? Not one drop of tear. Not one drop. I used to cry buckets, at the drop of a hat.

Pity me. For I hate pity.

Surprise

It was true love. Great love. Love really doesn’t matter, does it? I thought love could move mountains. I was wrong. Only I loved.

I don’t understand you. That hurts. Or maybe what hurts is that I do understand you. I see you for what you truly are. My wishful thinking has not made you a King. The sceptre and crown are to be deserved.

I am Queen. I am too good for you.

Begone, you bastard.

By the Sea (2)

It’s dark and the beach is deserted except for the few drunk ones wandering over from the shack. It isn’t Goa, and nothing exciting ever happens here. I sit with him just beneath the footpath, legs stretched out in front of me, leaning back against the cement blocks. He talks to me, of several things, I listen only to the deep hum of his voice and watch the brown of his eyes.

Suddenly, two very drunk white women run out to the beach, kicking the sand across us and proceed to divest themselves off their bikini tops. My eyes pop out and my head is suddenly clear of the fog caused by the small cocktail sips I've had. I’ve never seen live naked women before I let my uncivilized self take over. I ogle and gesture to him whispering hoarsely, “Ohmigod, look they’re taking their clothes off”. And he just keeps looking at me. Not a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, he just keeps looking at my face. He continues long after they’ve left, and the rest of the evening I am silent.

He loves me enough to miss the freak show of the year.

For whatever reason.

I am loved.

Doleful Mole

“You have a mole right on your earlobe”

“I know”

“How’s that?”

“I’ve been told”, I say.

“Hmmm”, he says.

I love the way he gets jealous at the thought of someone even looking at my earlobe closely enough to notice a mole. How cute, I think.

“And you have one right on your d***, you know”, I tell him.

“Yeah, I know”, lazy drawl.

“How’s that?”

He cocks an eye at me, ready to sprint, “I’ve been told”.

I scream bloody murder.

Baby Makers

Women are baby makers. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t know how many times this message has been driven home mostly by the sacred institution called family, nurtured and protected in turn by those wolves in sheep’s clothing - guardians of religion and morality and society and herd mentality.

It is extremely perplexing that human beings who actually have a fucking brain and who can actually use the grey cells to reason out things and understand and exult in that knowledge, are seemingly content to just remain fucking morons and feel righteous and holy about their ignorance. There is no point being upset about something I can do nothing about, but I can’t help it.

There was a movie on Z Studio called ‘Absolute Strangers’. A pregnant woman who is comatose has a better chance of recovery if the pregnancy is terminated. However, the pro-lifers appeal to the court for guardianship of the foetus and that of the comatose woman, all for the cause of saving ‘two lives’.

Doesn’t this make sense? What really is the purpose of existence of a woman? What is it that gives her the most joy, better than a 100 orgasms? A woman’s sole reason-to-be is to give birth to a child, to propagate the human race, she has to subjugate herself to the greater good of humanity and attain nirvana.

Men, as in the male species, advocating such subjugation of a woman can at least be understood in the light of them having their own personal axes to grind. But what about the women! So many, so many, so fucking many are so bloody happy to just take it and take it and even genuinely feel happy about this horrible state of affairs. The first one in the family to protest a young girl’s assertion of independence is the mother. The very same mother who must have been subjected to emotional castration as a child, who later on evidently developed a sense of loyalty to the tormentors who caused such blissful humiliation in her. She learns to associate humiliation with happiness.

All these fights for ‘Equal Rights’, EQUAL rights? What the fuck! It is not as if no one knows the answer. Everyone does. Everyone. And that’s why women are still kept under lock and key by the most powerful lobby in this world – family. And it is extremely difficult to get out of the clutches of Love. It is all such a well-knit and well-orchestrated fucking drama that goes on, especially among the mediocre middle class who have absolutely no sense of individuality, so they can neither stand for themselves nor can they blend safely into the anonymity of the masses above or below.

Financial independence will never become a reality for most women. Because they themselves don’t care. They are happy to be fussed over and pampered, they will be dogs. And have you any idea of the positive strokes that young girls receive from well meaning family members for always speaking of sacrificing self interest for others?

So many women I personally know, in the prime of their youth, when nothing but sex and comfort interest them, get married and promptly give birth to a couple of children. They stay at home to raise them. Bloat up. By the time they reach their thirties, they realize that youth is fading, nobody wants them. People who used to be scintillated earlier by their dynamism are now either tut-tutting or are seemingly unaffected by the fact that they have sacrificed their one shot to rising to their potential because let’s face it, they are women and the primary responsibility of a woman is to raise children and live for the family, cook and clean for them and wash the husband’s underwear and serve him food. And the family continues to lavish praises on her.

See, I have been told that I’ve become corrupt because the person I married ‘gave me too much freedom’. Note the choice of words, I was ‘given’ freedom. I did not deserve this much freedom, but I was granted that privilege denied to many and now I am misusing it. What a shame! I’ve also been advised by people who deeply care about me to stop working, to stop thinking of travelling alone, to start some small business at home to kill time and be a sweet, gentle woman. Oh how cute.

But I am sweet and I am gentle. And so are other women. I do not demand independence and freedom. I am. I have witnessed the transformation of so many free-willed women into doormats, and those who have sensible human beings for husbands, who understand these things, are eternally grateful for having been granted the freedom. As long as women remain grateful for whatever freedom they enjoy nothing will change. I am sure a lot of Indians were happy and content when the British ruled India. There was joy and governance not any worse than the current situation. Then why did some people feel that they are not free? Why did we not let them continue?

Because (pardon my Hindi) Sar kata sakte hain par chukka sakte nahin? And why the fuck is that applicable only to men? I like and respect men, I am no reverse chauvinist. But why the fuck can’t women understand? I am not talking about the poor uneducated women who are beaten up and who have no choice. I am talking about well educated women whose choice is to be content answering to ‘Serve me food, darling’. Shame!