Just a bit more…

I wish I knew then,
how apart we’d be now.
I wish I held on a bit longer,
I wish you let go less sooner.

I wish I could go back to the last kiss,
and kiss you deeper, kiss you better.
I wish I could rewrite our last chapter,
and add more paragraphs to it.
I wish the world stopped at the moment,
when we hugged for the last time.
I wish, I wish…I wish.

I wish the memory of
your smell lingered for longer,
the sense of your body on mine
dissipated slower.
I wish our fights lengthened,
and shortened the silences.
I wish we noticed sooner,
the indifference as it crept into us.
I wish I noticed sooner,
the absence in your presence.

My tears hardened
long before they escaped my eyes,
my heart stopped beating
long before you stopped caring.
My skin stiffened at your touch,
long before you entered the room.
You stopped being mine,
long before I claimed you,
and long before we crumbled,
we turned into ash.

I wish you were here,
yet I wished you away from myself.
I’m sick of wishing now,
I hadn’t wished a life without you then.
I wish I didn’t wish so much,
I wish, I wish…I wish.

I wish I knew then,
how apart we’d be now.
I wish I let go a bit sooner,
I wish you held on a bit shorter.


Not the day

Today is not the day…I’m exhausted. Please let me be.

Normally, I want to fight. I want to shout, scream, rage and hurl things. Normally, I want to shake you and every person who makes me feel caged. Normally, I’m a wounded animal trying to pick herself up and get back to normalcy. But not today.

Today, I’m tired. I’m exhausted. Today I realized that normal is an illusion. There is no such thing. Today I broke free of my cage and saw the bars were obsolete…because there is no escape for me.

Today I realized I’m a part of the problem too. For years, I shouted at every comment, every look, every gesture that demeaned me for being a woman. I screamed that I am special, that I am more than just a woman. Today, I can’t even whisper. Because I am more than just a woman, just like you are more than just a man. We’re above all, human beings. Somehow, in the race for equality, my womanhood entitled me to be on a pedestal that blinded me to my humanity.

Not today.

I don’t want to be stared at, I don’t want to be put in the spotlight because of my gender. But I don’t want to be worshipped either…I don’t want to be special. Not any more so than you anyway.

On one hand I said, I’m your equal. On the other, I asked you to pay for me. I kept saying everything is my choice and that I’m your equal, yet I looked down upon another like me who chose a different path. So what if she chose to be a homemaker, or a single mother or forever unmarried? Why are any of them less than me?

I realize I hurt myself as much as everybody else did.

Yes, we’re different. Yes, I’m a woman. There are things about me you’ll never be able to fully understand. Just like there are some things about you I can’t quite fathom. Can we stop making a big deal out of it? There is more to you and me than our genders, than our sexualities.

If you must make a big deal out of something, make a big deal of someone’s inhumanity. Make a big deal when someone forgets to be humane. Make a big deal of unkindness, of bullying, of rudeness, of inconsiderateness. Make a big deal when someone contributes to destroying the planet, or harms another species. Make a big deal when someone is humane. Let newspapers shout out headlines about kind gestures. Make a big deal of love. Promote it without using it to breed stereotypes. Make a big deal of “glass half fulls”.

Don’t make a big deal of me. There’s more to life than that.

There’s more to life than me.


Daytime has its perks, sure. But nighttime? Nighttime is her turf. Windows closed, curtains drawn, candles lit, a silence that envelops everything. Not the silence of the day, oppressive and lazy. But the silence of the night; crickets chirp, winds blow, occasional car horns echo from far away. There is something inspiring in this silence, almost magical. The promise of solitude, the thrill of birthing secrets in the rolling darkness, promises that grow deeper as the night becomes darker, dissolving into nothingness come dawn.

At nighttime, the city sleeps. With their doors securely locked, the tired population slumbers, waking into their respective worlds of dreams. Everything taboo, that seems clandestine in the harsh rays of the sun, becomes just another thought, just another vision in the realms of dreams. Sleep tucks the populace in lovingly; gently rocking the city’s inhabitants till their bedrooms fill up with the sound of snores. In this hush, in this promise made between the dark skies and the twinkling stars, she finds so easily what she ran after vainly in the day.

Words flow from her consciousness to form sentences. A story begins to take shape. Characters bloom in the flickering flame of her candle, as her pen moves across the page in a feverish haze. Thoughts that elude her in the presence of the sun, come to life under the gaze of the moon like a circus on opening night, seemingly chaotic but actually perfectly harmonized.

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not mine

I saw an episode of Satyamev Jayate today, that talked about rape and its current state of affairs in our country. I was quite moved and it being something I feel strongly about, I decided to write this down:

You put a cloth in my mouth to silence my screams,
You tied my arms and legs to hold back my struggling.
You hit me again and again, to subdue the fire in me,
You clawed at me, mutilated me, humiliated me, to kill me.

But what about the screams inside…how will you silence those?
What about the struggles to break free that kept me alive?
What about the fire that burns my soul, that YOU ignited?
How will you kill me when I refuse to die down?

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