Post Midnight Cat Calls

Unexpectedly so
Today the moon turned black.
Neighbourhood cats howled
To mate
And you slept soundly through it.

I've spent the past half hour
Un-asleep and un-awake
The ticking of the clock
In the next room
Rhymes with your breathe
woosh tick woosh tock.

I wished for it to rain
I wished for a storm.
I wished for something to wash down
This disillusionment
That was becoming me.

And yet
As my eyelids fell and met shore
As the sounds died
And so did everything else around me.
I wished for peaceful slumber
An unexpected
Never ending one.

RIP '23 year old paramedic'

Dear Mr. President's son and every other misogynist patriarchs (men, women & everyone in between)

Last night I had an epiphany
I figured what dented-painted means
I realised how dented-painted I am
Considering I woke up screaming from a nightmare
Bawling. Disgusted. Scared.
As I walk down my locality
Familiar shops
I get heckled by men 
And even though my brother is with me
All I can remember of the dream
Is the unwanted touch, my screams
And the look of desperation on my brother's face.

I am dented-painted.
I was dented as a child
As are a lot of women I know.
And some men too.
I have painted my thoughts
I have painted my memories
I have painted my body
I have painted my society
And yet with an overdose on the Delhi rape case
I wake up in the middle of the night
Wanting to rip my breast away
From my body
So that there will be no more denting.

I am dented painted.
So is my best friend, my lover
My colleague, my teacher
My therapist, my boss
My favourite author, the childhood friend
My sister, my sister-in-law
We are all dented.
Used. Banged. Damaged. Goods.
Most probably really young
When we were not 'soliciting'
As you would like to believe.

I am dented-painted,
Painted, because
The only reason I bravely walk the streets
Of any city I've lived in
Is because I believe what worst can happen
Has happened.
I'm dented yet again though
Because while I'm battling
My post nightmare insomnia
I stay awake to know that
Our 23 year old paramedic rape victim
Doesn't have it in her anymore to
Stay Alive.
RIP!

apocalypse

I live with a death wish
Today.
The world hasn't ended
And I realise I was looking forward for it to.
I live with blood-thirst
Today.
The stench of rusting iron
Rising in me wields daggers.
I desire apocalypse
Today.
I walk to it if it doesn't come my way.
Slit my throat, slit my wrist, bleed.
I cry murder
Today.
Even though murder
Wouldn't quench my need for justice.
I see my sisters rise
Today.
But I see innumerable
Hands ready to pull her down, shut her up.
I want justice
Today.
Slay my rapist, slay them who quieten me,
Slay my murderer, slay me for remaining alive.

A remedy for Anger

What's a remedy for anger
Anger that leaves you numb
Twists
Like a knife deeply wedged
In your gut.
Anger that leaves you impotent
Anger that torments you
With lust for blood
With red dreams of
Slit throats spurting.
Anger at lives
Futile
For it ends
At the hands of your helplessness.
Anger for the those
Who don't care enough
Who sleepwalk through existence.

This knife I twist further
To quench my blood thirst.

Pursuit of Poetry

On a day like today
When my arms want to give away
Feet hurt with immobility
Sleep rules every emotion
Every emotion becomes a drag
Every moment is worse than a wait
For unrequited love
For the day seems to extend
Beyond my want to breathe.
On a day like today
I wonder
If you can hear me loud and clear.
Can you?

Streaming

And I think I’ll just wait
         While my palm digs into my cheek
  And the bright red chases the light red
         While streaming some song on youtube.
And my feet have gone numb
               While holding the same position
   And all morning I’ve blinked a gazillion times
            While I wait for maybe just one sign from you?

Cold Storage

Maybe if I
Gulp this down
Without water
And hold my throat
Hard enough
Strong enough
All that has been
Thought of as digested,
Forgotten
May stay in
And not jump out at me
Most unexpectedly.

Untitled

Have you ever been there
10,000 phone numbers
Listed on your phone
But not one to call?
Sitting idle on a Sunday afternoon
Hoping life would happen to you
But it doesn't?
Realising everyone but you
Is celebrating something
While what you are celebrating
Is your independence or
Is that lonliness I sense?
Well this is the price you pay
For being bull-headed
Perhaps my mother would say.
I guess she's right!

Chronicles of Two ~ I

click to enlarge

Once again they set off     Jumping walls   Sitting with their feet dangling Into imaginery waters.    Wet toes, Longing hearts     Yearning for nothing less than the moon.    What's between you and me Is beyond us she said.   They both agreed. Holding hands     Reaching out to the sky    They dreamt of non-existent swings While they rode to nether lands. Like children       like lovers   Like borne out of each other Sharing bliss sharing sorrow Sharing hurt sharing sweetmeats out of nowhere    Wishing for nothing less than the moon       They rode to nether lands.

അലച്ചില്

എനെറ്റ കൂടുകാരിയ്കു
ഇരുട്ടിെന േപടിയാണ്
ഇരുട്ടിയമുറിയില്
അവള്ക്കുറക്കമില്ല
ഉറങ്ങാത്ത മുറിയില്
നാം
ൈകോകറത്തു േമയ്കോറത്തു
പലരാത്രി കവിതചോല്ലി
കടംകഥകളായി ജീവിച്ചു
---
എനെറ്റ േസ്നഹിഎതയ്കു
ഉറക്കമില്ല
െവയില്െവളിച്ചം നിറഞ്ഞ മുറിയില്
ഉച്ചയുറക്കത്തിന്േപരില്
ഞങ്ങള്
കളിച്ചും ചിരിച്ചും ചുംബിച്ചും
ദിവസങ്ങള് രാത്രികള് വറ്ഷങ്ങള് കഴിഞ്ഞു
---
ഇന്ന
ഈ ഉറക്കമില്ലാത്ത
വറ്ഷങ്ങളിെലഉറക്കം േതടി
ഞാന് അലയുന്നു

Rubbish!

I'm told
Im halways in a urry
To say what I ave to say
I do typos while i pseak
I mix letters brack and foth
and call myself a spoonerist
I spoon'em words
And twist'em up
I tick my bookets and
And read Kelly and Sheets
I say bains
For beans and baingan.
What's for dinner donight?!
Senseless sense I sense in me
Sometimes nonsense
It's todally me!
I write here this
To entertain myself!
Such boredness life has become!
ha!

Life Lines

If I take a look from top
It all looks like a movie
A bloody quagmire to me
Just lines connecting
From here to there

To somewhere else
Back here again
And then away elsewhere!
A complete racous!
And you and I
Are the queens and kings

Of racous making
How madly incestous
Always ready to our give hearts away
Always
What will we do!
Nothing
Be like this always!

By NAM (Nocturnal Artists' Movement)
Outcome of a frustrated and self realisation chat between Junuka and Me. Talk about verbal harmony!

Ma-u-sochism

Every morning I wake up, I find my kitten, Mau at my feet stretched out sometimes on his side, sometimes even on his back. It is such a sight of cuteness. Mostly if he's not asleep the night while I am, he's hyper jumping about, hunting roaches and god only knows what not all, and at times jumps onto my bed and nibbles at my feet. It hurts and he gets kicked.

But when I'm awake, I cant keep my hands off this cuteness and keep petting him till he's thoroughly pissed off at being woken up and turns around and bites me! And guess what, I know when the bite's going to come, but do I stop? Nope! I just go right on till his bites get harder and more hurtful and almost bruises me.
I tell myself I'm such a masochist!

I'm sitting at the beauty parlour, almost undressed, in the smock of sorts they give you when you need to get yourself waxed. No one I know, or atleast I don't particularly wax in the winters unless there's an occassion that calls for it. One is so under wraps in several layers of clothing in the Delhi winters that waxing is definitely not on the priority list.

So here I am sitting half naked, hairy and all waiting for hot wax to be poured upon and my body hair ripped off. The woman is a professional. She's only used to several clients waiting in line making her pace the process to the extent that I often wonder if she forgets that the hair being ripped off is of a live being.
It's a weekday and it's noon time. No rush! No clients in line! But yet, the wax is steaming hot and I wince in pain. What more, my skins dry like a parched land and that never helps in reducing pain! I lie there while she works on my thigh, legs, other thigh, other leg, behind my legs, arms and then finally the most painful, underarms! And I wonder - WHY THE @#^%*#*&#* AM I HERE?
Then she goes on to thread my upper lip and eyebrows, which, careless but not carefree that I am about such, there's an overgrowth which again she heartlessly mows through.

I am a masochist I know. I know I'll only go again to a parlour when the lawns become unkempt. I never find the time to go before that till I kind of loathe myself in the mirror. (years of conditioning I say!) But do I enjoy that pain...probably not...do I mind it? Probably yes. Would that stop me from going? Never!

How does one explain this need to cause pain to oneself?
"Sometimes I cut myself to see how much it bleeds... it's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me"
-"Stan," Eminem

Is that it? Is that what longing for unrequitted love also means? Is that what longing at all means?

Mau's sprawled himself on the floor next to my chair. He's waiting for me to get into bed so that he can snuggle at my feet and nibble at it in his sleep.

As much as it is cuteness, it is unrest for me!

Conversations

And yet again she said
She was a fool.
And all I could ask was
Why did you let go?
We don't know!

21 Feb'08, 07.30 pm

For my Unnamed

How do you do it?
Make me feel the way I do
Two minutes in your city
And I'm reeling
With vivid memories of you
With your voice resonating in me.
I wasn't ever there with you
There at that spot
Where now I could see you
Sit across the table from me
And talk to me
And behave as if
It's the couple on the next table
Playing footsie, now, then.
How is it that all seems so real
Like dry wine down my throat
I feel the tingles, the bitterness,
And the taste lingers.
I love it!
But how do you do it?

SCREAM

Haven't written in a long time
Been trying to draw
That too seems not to be happening
Mind is clouded
Noisy yet lonely
And so noisy that there ain't space
For thoughts!
Dry are my river beds
Dry is the ocean it leads to
Skin feels like it will rip apart
For it can't take the drought anymore
Scream!! SCREAM!!
Every inch screams out
But not a teardrop
Because that too seems to have dried
In the course of 3 days of incessant rains.

Enter MORAL- i -BAN - ism

How convenient to look at
Taliban as a muslim extremist phenomena!
Look at you
You whiny protectors of morality
You perverts of the first degree
You weak morons
Who lack confidence in self
In one's belief systems.

Out to protect your wimmin?
When did we become
Cave men at what we do?
When did women need
That protection from you
Other than from you?
Wimmin ain't your cattle
To protect them from predators.
You are the predator yourself!

Obscene? I'll file a PIL
Against men who scratch
Their groins in public
Against people who pick
Their noses in public
Against men who grope
Against men who rub
Against those who stare
I'll file a PIL
And hope to gouch their eyes out.
I'll file a PIL
Against men who treat
Their wimmin like cattle.
Against parents who force
Daughters into unwanted alliances
A PIL against everyone
Anyone
Who has ever touched me
Without my permission
Against those made me hate
That I am a girl
Growing into a wommin
A PIL for death sentence
For all the above.

Gere-Shilpa out of proportion non-controversy! For all the perverts!!
http://www.expressindia.com/fullstory.php?newsid=84936#compstory

Religious sentimentality?!! Yeah...the gods were born bejeweled weren't they?
http://indianartnews01.blogspot.com/2007/05/hindu-sacred-art-offends-self-appointed.html

Raging!!

(The image is a protest poster by Women's groups in Mumbai such as Forum Against Oppression of Women, LABIA other women groups/individuals, against banning the film screenings of the Deepa Mehta film FIRE, addressing the larger issue of moral policing, censorship and about a bunch of goons deciding what is good for the masses!)

My feet
Still grainy
With sand
As the sea teased
And I chased
The waves.
White froth
Black sea
And the distant lighthouse
So distant
The light's faint.
My feet
Are buried
In the sand
The waves draw,
Ankles no more visible.
What are you trying to do
I am asked.
I watch the litter
The waves take back.
Drown, I say.

7th April 07

Uff!!!

This is a rant...or I know I've sat myself down here to raaaaannnnttt....n raaavvveeee
Yet I have no clue what I am supposed to rave about!

Rave
I shall about you
I always have
Or about myself
I know not.
Every error I have made
I made it mine
My blunder
My error...
My misjudgement
I got stuck in the flow
I,
Intruder
I,
I,
I,
Aaarrrggghhh!!
Let it be!!

Emotional Souffle

Oh come one!
You know exactly what I mean.
Don't you?
Creamy souffle...that just melts in your mouth
Always leaves you craving for more.
Chocolate always does it for me.
But here's a new kind of souffle...
Emotional Souffle...
Ingredients?
I'm not sure that is a good idea.
But maybe if you've understood
Every ingredient without a second read
then perhaps you've already tasted your Emotional Souffle!

Ingredients for Emotional Souffle
1 haywire relationship
1 partner of partner (current or ex)
1 broken heart over ex-affair
1 really interesting distraction(swaad anusaar)
A few shoulders to cry on
A few people to flirt with
An old flame that never dies to heat things up
Some rum on the rocks
Oodles of cigarettes
Dollops of chocolate! for icing

Beat'em all into one yummy batter.
Serve at room temperature.

You know what I mean?!
Enjoy!