Nom de guerre

What has become a compulsion
For men
Is still for you
An opportunity
A step up
A chance
To prove that you, too,
Count

Your melancholia

Reassures me
That the places within me
That the world makes me
Doubt the existence of
Do really exist

You take me inside
My own soul
And tell me i am not insane

Circle of grief

Teaching yourself to deal with things
Learning to gain control of feelings
Step by step conquering of pain
Dealing with nightmares, trauma

Succeeding

And finding yourself unable
To feel
The new pain that presents itself after

Cycle of family history

Often strong mothers
Seem to bring forth
Weak daughters

Little girls for whom
Their mother is the world
And they need no more,
Are content to follow her around
And live in her warm glow

And when they grow up
Are so cowed down
By their mother's effervescence
That they decide beforehand
Not to compete
Since there is no shame
In losing to mother

When high attraction

Trumps low compatibility

way to go!

a generation ago,
women with short hair
looked like
women trying to imitate men
and none too flattering imitations,
at that

today,
women with short hair
look like women
with short hair

brave new world

Men have been telling us lies
All this while

Earning money
In the "wide world"
Is so easy

So, so much easier
Than what we do

- heard from a friend
married five years

Reading theories

Is seeing out there
What is already in your mind
You only need to know
Who said what and when

Bugs me

I would say i hated
Bugs crawling over my skin
If i did not hate
The ones under my skin
Even more

(Touch me,
Replace all memories
That crawl
With ones that sing and dance)

The fear of loss

You try to extract promises
That i will never leave your side
While i mock you about the futility
Of thinking so far ahead
I try to save my own heart
By letting go of bits and pieces only,
Always keeping the whole
For myself

In truth,
I am just as afraid
Of losing you
That i would not
Gain you at all

the instinct to weep

because you need your life's share
of low points
to draw strength from

Nowhere

No... where...
Now. here.

watching you

close your eyes 
unaware  of
the smile that escaped 

And when we meet

The thread of conversations
Intertwine 
Like they were never broken

Because you

hold  me long enough 
until the tears come

Give me wings,

Not  crutches 

After the first date

Sometimes  you don't  call because
You are worried that  it was just a fluke.
The   connection, the heart to heart,
The laughter.

You are worried  that it won't  be
The same again
That she will not have he same energy 
To spill  her life again
Or you won't

And that it will degenerate  into platitudes 

I will never know

Your pain
When he recites love poems
Without  any address 

Ostensibly  leaving 
The muse's identity
A mystery 

But telling you very clearly
That it is not you

Do you wonder  who it is for
Or do you  know
And turn  the other way

Caution to the winds

In a hundred  years i will be dead
In a thousand, we will be extinct
And in a million, the earth will explode
(Or implode, depending)

So what does it matter,
In the (really) long term
What i do today?

(But of  course it is a luxury
To be able  to  act outside  of the box
Where consequences  cannot follow  me)

After the storm

And  when the long awaited 
Moment  of confession comes
It brings  with it
Not the long awaited
Release
The walking  into the sea
With open arms

But another  gathering 
Another  tying  up of knots
As if
So much intimacy 
So much  openness
Is unbearable 

(Mostly  just unaccustomed,
And thus less than comfortable,
But for a moment,
overwhelmingly  unbearable )

Creation of media

In absolute  negation  of
The self that
Would rather die than express

A going  out of way
To prove 
The absence  of repress

BAM !!

a woman can grow up
never knowing
that a man can negotiate
that there is space for
conversation, bargain
equal hearing

it is enough for the man
to say what he says
and then shut the door

so ill prepared is a woman
for the gentle  man

Who asks her what she wants

And actually  tries to give her that  

We will be happy

When they  played with us
They never  thought 
That  what  they  were doing 
Would  hurt  us forever 
Would  colour  our every action 
Every  thought 
Would  change  the  way
We  look  at the  world 
That  we would 
Be unable  to trust  anyone 
Always  be scared 
Of  being  found  out

And yet
We survived  it
And we continue  to grow 
And  we WILL be happy 
Because  we are stronger  than  them

While  they  waste away

Such a world of difference between

"This is  it" and "you are it"

The tremble

Somewhere  in the bravado 
I must have seen the tremble
And that  is how we happened 

Not the big picture

I m so tired  of  you
Taking  only the  bits  you like
And making  a madonna out of it

Superheroes

Suddenly  and out of context 
I hate  superhero  movies
We don't  need anyone  to kill the bad guys
With superhuman  force

The real crises are different 
Loss of  lives, homes
Hunger, sickness
Being orphaned 
Chaos, violence 
And there  are no superhero  movies
That address  these 
(Even if they  do,
They end by killing  the bad guy 
Like  it's  remotely  enough)

Reverse deja vu?

I have this strange  feeling where i feel like i am having deja vu. But then i search for the incident  in memory  and there is none. Instead some time later, it may be days or it may be weeka and months, the same incident  happens again. Then i am reminded  of my previous  intuition, which was actually  a premonition  disguised  as deja vu. I wonder what it's caĺled?

"You are lost"

1.
I am not lost,
I am just too complicated
For you to understand

2.
If I am lost,
only then can you find me.

3.
If I was already found,
what would be the point
of you finding me?

4.
If you dislike lost so much
why don't you go find someone

Who is found, not lost

5.
Is it herself, or is it you,

Or some hobby, some passion,

What exactly  should she have found?

6.
I am the one who is lost
you who are not,
can surely can find your way
out of this mess

7.
Maybe I am lost
So that you can show me the way

The unmaternal

A dyad  exists 
When two  people bond
But for it to die
Only one person needs leave

Or so said emile durkheim 
And how well he knew

That to have a child,
You and i both must agree
But to not have a child
It is enough 
That i refuse

Two souls

When together  they are themselves 
Like cats and dogs 
Chalk and cheese 

And when apart
Are each other
Dogs and cats
Cheese  and chalk

And forevermore  will try
To recreate  in every  intimacy
What they have

I look for a chalk and am shocked  when
He is always  a chalk

A la shahrukh khan

Who said when asked
What he has in common 
With his wife
She likes me and i like me

You and  i click  because 
We have this in common 
You like women and i like  women

Blurred boundaries-the secret life of a secretkeeper

Once you start keeping  secrets
It never ends
You hide one dramatic  thing
Then you hide  the mundane 

Friendships  where you share
Love laughter and secrets
Seem fake
Because  you will never  share your secrefts
And you wonder if
Everyone  else is faking  it too

And when you find they are not
You wonder  how they can
Enjoy life so carefree 

And when they accuse u
Of keeping secret the mundane 
You have nothing  to say
In your defense 
For it never  occurs to you
That you are not playing  by the  rules
Of solidarity 
When you keep  your secrets

And all that **** about
Exploring  relationships
Social networks
And your personality 
In adolescence 
Goes down the drain 

And it all comes  down to
The one person  who gave you 
A dramatic  secret  to keep
And saddled  you with a burden
You can never throw off

the day i m kind

to those who matter
because you are kind to me

Turning 30

To watch 
Proud, independent  friends 
Determined  to find  a mate 
Of their  own choice
Succumb to arranged marriage 
One by one

The cue

Nowadays  it is not  

Your name  being called
By a beloved voice 
That  will wake you up from sleep

It is the anonymous  beep beep
Or the merest suggestion of it
That wakes you up
And makes you flip the cover

(Is he thinking of me yet?)

vagaries of desire

every night this man
moans in agony of desire
that he does not feel
for the woman next to him
who wishes for someone,
anyone,
to touch her

and that the man will not
seek another
for he has spent a lifetime
decrying those who
put a toe out of line
and values what the world thinks of him
more than what he thinks of himself
and he who has never used a finger
to lift so much as a twig
needs her services

and nor will the woman
who has resigned herself
to the fate
of middle-aged women,
grandmothers
who channel their desire for touch
into the innocent touch of little ones

there is nothing for the two of them to do
except for them
to continue to project the image of
a happy family
and question in moments of clarity
if it is not all a sham

except for him to shout at her
every day
apparently because
the peas and carrots
are touching on his plate
but actually
for not being what he wants
for not letting him seek what he wants
by the very fact of being alive

and for her,
not knowing that he is only
venting his frustrated desire on her
to implode
if she does not
wear herself out
with washing his underwear

escaping into forgiveness

I resolved to forgive you long ago
back when I realized
the futility of my resentment
realized that my anger was hurting me
more than it was hurting you

in fact, you did not even know
or care
that i was angry with you
(and never would)

but there is still this
rage at the back of my mind
that bubbles and simmers
and threatens to break out
every time I think of you

i like to believe
i have taken care of it
been busy, got a life,
learnt how to get over it
been generous,
forgotten you, if not forgiven

i like to pretend
it doesn't exist
and on happy days,
i almost succeed

almost,
until the bubbles burst
and the hot red lava
seeps out in my dreams
and suffocates me
until i wake up breathless

no, you will never know
how you are torturing me
yes, i do realize that my rage
is hurting only me

but if i forgive you
just because you don't realize
your own evil
i will be closing my eyes
being an ostrich

forgiveness
without your repentance
forgiveness
without your guilt eating you from inside
and destroying you like it did me
forgiveness
without even your knowledge

seems like just another word for
escapism

Poetry in the blues

you do not  see the poetry
of  our improbability,

do you

if you did you would not 
want to pull us out of it

into happiness

but happiness will fade

inevitably

into complacence

while sorrows live within you
secretly,
forever,
like a child
that never takes birth

one doesn't need much else

to live on,

really,

other than the one big sorrow
of what could have been

With you

With you i can forget everything 
Which is precisely  why i remember  everything 

When i can forget  everything
It also includes things

I am supposed  to hide

Things i am ashamed of  

Things i am supposed to be ashamed of

Things i am told to pretend don't exist

So when i come to you my love

I come  with all my memories  

With my entire  being  

I come whole, complete, and unabashed  

And i remember  everything  

Because  i can

Forget all the rules

Suppress, suppress

The encyclopedias in my head 
Just a defense mechanism
Against feelings
So i can just throw information 
At any emotion
That attacks

Sorry you are the one

Who has to deal with
The jagged edges
Of my
Yet unformed 
Personality 

(Nobody  else
Gets so close)

Home???

Come to think of it,
The romanticising  of home
Seems to be just a producct
Of male  literature 

A place  where  he  has 
All the comforts 
No restriction

A woman  just wants to escape
From the daily drudgery 
Of providing  for the comforts 
And fighting  the  restrictions 

Conversion disorder

You know  that u r acting
But u still believe  the act  urself

Delivered with a smirk

How can u not remember 
When u kno
Wat u cannot  remember 

denial, anger, bargaining, depression

you know you are growing old when
the darkest of places start lightening up

i hate rain

"you cannot be a poet
if you don't like rain"
yea, right

Kichkandi

Men need to invent  their  spirits 
To foist  their  fears of the unknown 
On the feminine 
On a woman, specifically,
That he does not understand 
Cannot regulate
As opposed  to the docile one 
Who resides  in
The bangles and potes
He proudly  displays 
On his dashboard 

There  is no such thing
As a male spirit 
That will  suck away
A woman's life
Her joys and her peace
While pretending  to
Seduce  them

That is not  something 
Women need to invent 

No need to be attached

If you belive
You cannot  trust anyone
And loves never last
You win

Because most people
Will hurt you in some way
So you are  always right

And if not,
Well,
How nice to be proved wrong
For the right reasons

So yes,
If you belive
You cannot  trust anyone
And loves never last
You are always taken care of
People are bound to hurt you
And you are always  protected

Finding yourself in the world outside

Ten years ago i picked her up
Because i had heard i should
And put it down because 
She had not the flamboyance 
Of the sher-o-shayari
That was more to my taste then

It was years before i could appreciate
The brutal  honesty of her words

Not that young  people do not have
The sensitivity to understand  pain
Sometimes  young people
Are the most troubled  of all

Actually, the opposite 
With youth the burdens are so heavy 
That they just cannot see
What lies on their shoulders
And cannot recognize it
When they see someone else
Carrying the samr burden
Even if they are the same thing

Even if emily dickinson
Speaks in your voice 
You cannot see
That the voice  is coming from within

Trial and error

The journalist's method
Of trial and error 
Goes thus

You work for hours
On a person
Trying  to get them to open up
And getting zilch results

And suddenly on the second meeting
You strike a goldmine
And ask one question 
That opens their floodgates

And you worship the question 
Like the key to a buried treasure 
And jump it on the next  person you meet
Right after the introduction 
Only to have them  clam up
Or look at you askance
Or go the whole hog and start yelling
At you for probing too deep

You think you were too abrupt
And the key is to do the whole drill
All over again
But after  three meetigs with the next person
You realize your  treasured  key
Means nothing to them

Because every person has their own key
And there is no recourse  to trial and error  anew every time

Clowns are the loneliest

They say
Those  who make a living 
By making  others  laugh
Are the ones
In need of a laugh

So must  those
Who pursue  secrets
Be in quest  of
Delicate  nurturing
Of their own soul 

What men want

You wonder why a man offers 
A kiss to reconcile
Or a hug or a make-out
And says nothing
About the issue at hand
As if it will solve itself
With a kiss

And then you learn 
That it is because 
That is what he would like

Give a kiss and all anger
Is forgiven

Forgiveness heals

The thing  with  forgiveness  is that
It only heals you
If you arrive at it
With much trouble 
Go through  the whole rigmarole
The denial, the anger 
The disconnect with the outside world
And then arrive at
Compassion
Like an inevitability 
Like succor, like relief
Like blessings

If you  make a habit of it
And are able to forgive 
Murder
At the blink  of an eye

Forgiveness 
Is the same as
Indifference 

intoxication

when intoxication nudges
your most guarded secrets
out of you
 
you feel unfaithful
to yourself

because you had not
admitted the secrets
even to yourself
(to your 'true', waking self,
that is)

and so you wonder
which one of you is the 'true' you
the one who guards the secrets
or the one who swims in it

and then you begin to understand

why some people
worship the drink
for it flings away 
inhibitions
like nothing else
and sets you free

and why some others
hate it
for it flings away your
inhibitions
without which you
do not recognize yourself

redemption

is redemption possible
after being used
and abused
and lied to
and manipulated?

indeed it is,
redemption lies in taking control
in ravishing yourself
for yourself

the only problem is
finding enough love
to be able to do so

Intimacy

Only two things make a woman
Feel safe enough
To blurt all her secrets
And it is no wonder that
The first of them is discouraged,
With the hangovers it induces.

And strangely,
The other,
Even without hangovers or liver decay
But instead with the extraordinary power
To relieve all stress
Fatigue
And make a woman happy
Like nothing else
Is also discouraged

Because it also makes a man
Feel safe enough to blurt everything
Because it makes a man
Weak in his own eyes.

What you mean to me

I don't know if I will ever have
the courage to say this to you

Date a girl who dreams

date a girl who dreams.

You will recognize her by the faraway look in her eyes, even when she is doing the most mundane things. 

She is the one whose answers may not really match your questions. 

She is the one who ends up somewhere she never meant to go, because she followed a song there. Or a brightly colored bird. Or a book in a stranger's hands. 

She is the one who comes home with an assortment of weird objects, because she thinks they are cute. or interesting  or wants to do DIY projects with them. 

She is the one who plays with a stray kitten for hours, and sometimes stray iguanas and porcupines, or whatever she finds. She is the ones that kittens follow home.

Date a girl who dreams, because she is the one who can create your dreamland for you, right here, on earth. She is the one who can blow your worries away, like she blows the bubbles from a cheap soap water solution in plastic rings. She is the one who can make an ordinary day special. She is the one whose coffee warms up not just your hands, but your heart and soul. A day with her, lasts in your memory for a lifetime. And a lifetime with her, will pass by like a moment.

If you are attracted by her ethereal presence, smile at her. Let her know, that you know dreams matter, whether or not they come true. Hold her hand, and let her take you wherever her imagination flies. Hold her hand, and let her know that she can fly as high as she wants, because you will not let her get lost. Hold her hand, and hold her close. Close enough for her to see that your eyes hold dreams, dreams of her. Hold her close, and let her know that's where you will be, when she wakes up.

Because if you date a girl who dreams, you date a girl who loves life.

Because her stories create magic. 

Because her presence reminds you of everything you ever wanted.

Because, though she has a faraway look on her face, she will always be close to you.

Because, for you, she will always snap out at a moment's notice, from wherever she is.

Date a girl who dreams, and you will be dating a girl who cares.

Date a girl who dreams, and be prepared to let go of your hold on reality.

Date a girl who dreams, and be ready for the ride of your lifetime!

Maybe she carries her heart on her sleeve. Maybe she hides it behind he big glasses. big clothes. extra big bag. And if she does, you will just have to look. Because she is there, right there, behind the owl glasses. 

You might recognize this girl by the flowers she grows. Or by the poetry she spouts at short notice, because she knows it by heart. You may never have heard of it, but she doesn't exactly care for labels or climb the bandwagon. Or you may know her by the mud color she insists on putting on her walls, though she calls it chocolate, and maybe by the shiny stars she has stuck there.  You might recognize her by the silliest limericks she sends you at midnight. 

But the surest sign of a girl ho dreams, is that she is a girl. Look closely, and you will find, whether or not she fits the list, that every girl is a dreamer. 

Date a girl who dreams, and you will be dating a girl who loves.

Published long ago in Republica
http://theweekrepublica.tumblr.com/post/42573787915/date-a-girl-who-dreams

pursuit of happyness

if only we could spend our lives
in the pursuit of love
the one thing that makes us feel alive
instead of numb
(and not money and status)
we would be much happier beings,
it seems

amour

1.

When you fall asleep

With a smile on your face

5. 

When you will not leave this person

Because the world will break his heart

why we need gods

because we need answers
of things beyond comprehension

because we want to hope
our loved ones are still around us

because we want forgiveness
when the sin is too great
to be forgiven by a mere mortal

because we want to believe
there is somthing greater than us
there is some purpose to life
some method to the madness

because we want to believe
that the world is fair
that those who suffer in it
must have a reason to do so
and those who get the larger share of the cookie
must have paid their dues before

because we want to be grateful
for things that accept no gratitude

At what point

Just in case you came by

And didn't say hello to me

I always keep
Your chat window open

(Gone are the days of doors,
Especially  the  physical  ones)

My precious

For you i am
A precious  find

But for me you are precious 
Because you found me

Freud, you didn't get it half-right

Sometimes you want a man
Who gives you what
Your father didn't want

Sometimes you want
To be your father
And attract a man like your mother

Sometimes  you run away
From everything  that smells
Of your father

And only a few times
Do you want a man
That looks, talks and acts
Like  your father 

(Of course,
Sometimes that's what you want
All along
And you deny it  to yourself 
Because you don't know it.
But this is just one of a million
Probable phenomena,
Making up a miniscule part
Of a possible range)

What you did get right
Was that
Everything revolves around your father,
Whether you lean towards the type,
Or away from it,
He is the central 'type' in your life

(But even then,
Only if he is
The primary man in your life-
Sometimes it may be a brother,
A friend, a no-relation)

And made you explode

The day you asked
About my feelings  for  you

I thought of how
If i was dead 
The one person  i would
Plead with god
To let me see for a minute 
Was you

And as usual,
Blurted something
Noncommittal 

Ways of seeking sympathy

You can seek
Only sad, vulnerable  people
To share your sorrows with.
Sympathy guaranteed 

Or you can
Go out of your way 
To tell everyone
That you are  strong
And don't  need sympathy. 
And sulk when someone else
Gets the sympathy
That you think you deserve

Or you can create 
Your own defense mechanisms
Joke, laugh, play pranks
And when you find someone
Who seems actually interested
Pour it all out
Hoping against logic
That you are special.
And rub people  the wrong way

Or you can go all mysterious
Never  actually saying out loud
What ails you
Only dropping  hints
Here and there
Hoping for someone 
Who cares enough 
To follow the breadcrumbs 
Back to you.
And wait forever.

not easy to communicate with someone

when you know they are not
what they believe they are

when they are lying to themselves
and you find yourself
looking for scraps
to help them cover
for themselves

Love is not just

Sharing your  low points
Without shame
But also sharing
Your high ones
Without worrying 
That you appear  vain

You alter

Not  just  my days
But entire sequences  of memories 

Treaaured mrmories of
The happiest  time of my life
The cosiest 
The most exciting 
Now i will have to
Re-order them all

Testing the limits

Once i drank
To test my limits
When will i puke?
When will i say things
I never meant to?
When will i embarass  myself?
When will i lose sense?
When will i stop?

And then i drank
To test  yours
When will you turn  away 
When will you ask me to stop ?
When will you be
more embarassed  than me?
When will  you  give up?

With you my feelings

Penetrate
Like knife  through  butter 

My men don't read

Lucky am i that my (wo)men
Don't read my poems

So i can write what i want
They will never see each other
In my poems

More importantly,
They will not see themselves 
(Or lack thereof)

Fuzzy logic needed

If i was married
I could allow myself to cheat

Because  a marriage has no escapes
So i am allowed to build one
To suit my desperation

A cornered cat
Will come for your eyes

But like all things reality
I have no such convenient situation

Instead, a world of greys on one side
And on and offs on the other

I cannot live without you

And yet  i know
Thst when you are gone
I will be relieved 

I fell in love with you

The day we whispered  in broad daylight 
(And we were not  even discussing  secrets
We were just  too scared of spilling  over
Our  act of normalcy )

Not meant to be

You want  stability 
You want  eternity 
And  all i can  offer  you
Is a little tiny piece of 
Ephemerity

I measure every pain i meet

IWith analytic eyes.

What did they do to solve it?

Did they  try everything  in their means?
If not, they must be lazy

Did they stand up to the people who hurt them ?
If not, they must be weak

Can  they pretend they are ok
When  their emotions threaten to spill over
Into other people's  lives?
If not, they must be inconsiderate.

Some grudging respect is spared
For one  who meets all of these conditions
And loopholes are sought of those
Who ace the conditions with their strength

All in an effort
To prove to myself
That i am stronger
Than my adversities
Than them.

(Emily dickinson)

Grief is a source of smugness

Reading Emily  dickinson
And being unable to think  beyond her words 

When you get me something

That you think i like
We end up with something
That neither of us want

The secret pride of grief

I only respect those
Whose grief is greater than mine

For the rest  of them
It's easy to say
They know  nothing

What makes me wise 
In my own eyes
Is my grief

But it hurt too much

I wanted to be strong
I wanted to do the right thing
I wanted to set you free, as you asked