You know, old people have a tendency to talk about their memories or of other they know, they lose the rhythm of the conversations they are a part of. That, i guess, happens a lot before they are about to die. With or without the death clause, they also, i think, get bored and lost both, of speech of it all. We see the body but the mind rusts along too. The weaknesd is very wholesome. It is blurry vision that keeps going off, slow pace and weakness and being lost. It is very imminent in me and very noticeable by the people around me too. It is not only the weed, i know. It is more in my willingness of it all. I think i am about to be dead. What is sad is i cannot kill myself. I can just die and remain dead like that. And i have no idea or imagination of how long i would need to wait here. Leave my body here, dying, decaying.


You are cordially invited to my Death.

What does it take,
To not be anymore, awake and afraid?
I am lizard, missing steps
And falling on heads
and running away.
As old as the letters on the cardboard say-“GO AWAY”.
What would it take,
To escape
Once again to where there is no cloudy sky,
Where no bird, not a soul comes by.
And the stars sparkle in an infinite display
On your lap will my head again lay,
Would you stay?
Till we seep into our graves
And warm our skeletons.
Or atleast try.

But you are sleeping around,
And i remain sleep deprived.
My head hangs, stuggles in the ‘gamcha’ knot
tight around my throat.
Flies fly around my nose
And knock me in my eyes.
And pink floyd keeps on whispering, repeating into my ears,
To shine on like a crazy diamond.
I guess it made me too crazy, to die.
I was home, my dear.
But home to so much more, that you couldn’t bear.

I wish i could again circle around with you,
Like now i rotate with the fan blades, without you.

Now the burning splinter of my cigarette,
Should make a big mistake.
Burn my little white bed.
And all that was mine, off late.
And me.
And the parts of you hidden in my bookshelf.

My show ends here,
It does not want to go on.
My grandeur will be my funeral pyre.
Right here.
And I may not be a diamond in the end.
But here i burn crazy,
Burn bright through my bones and flesh.

The Impossibility of Gender Equality- A short story.

Maybe that is where i went wrong-
Wearing her like a crown on my head.
Young women are just, too young for a forever.
They are just stupid enough for passion,instantaneous acts of love making.They grow too old and bored with those same moments of holding hands. Time for them, runs on a treadmill and they desire all that heat and intensity more.
My masculine existence restricts me from calling it their fault when the forefathers and brothers of my sex has overlooked them for so long. Sometimes i believe that is why they adore makeup so much. Just for the purpose to outshine someone, something or just themselves. And i cannot really say how those fake colours fail to establish its variety of purposes, even for the ugly women.

Maybe i should have given up, when she told me to stop with the music. When she warned me against stepping everywhere in a symphony. How unmanly it looks. Or how i should be more presentable. How dirty it is to not take a bath, how she felt uncomfortable to touch an unkempt body. How good it would feel, if she could fuck a moviestar-like guy. No matter how worthless she herself is. Maybe a girl, maybe a woman never stops dreaming big. Of a house, of a job, of being a queen or fucking a moviestar.
I should have stopped when she got tired of year after year of pujas, and those specail days and occasions , and year after year of memories of us together smiling. So long that i had learnt those smiles by heart. Or i should have stopped, when i asked her for a pen, when i intended to give her a flower, that amounted to five flowers a week that grew old and dry in my dark cold bag every night. Atleast i should not have let her near my naked body,kiss my skin, feel that kiss and tell her i love her,the thousand times i did.

All along i knew i was too late. Too late to save her or myself. My sex fucked her up so long that all i am left with now, is a fucked up women i can only observe and look after. A sad irony, that like a forceful conversation only feels silence. Sad like how a zero has to exist without any value. Or maybe i should just be a man and accept it.

I was looking straight into her eyes for about 10minutes. It seemed like dreaming. She had this power over me, making me imagine of a whole universe just with her eyes. Only this time, she did not keep looking back, she looked at me in a most peculiar way, because nobody stares back at someone they love when that person just said that they want to breakup with them. She was concerned about what was wrong with me this time. Sometimes i think, girls are concerned of all the wrong things. Its upsetting sometimes, how they gain a differential insight into your head and soul sometimes.
The phone rang and she had a horrible conversation with her dad. When she came back to the room where she had sat me down with a cup of coffee that turned probably as cold as she seemed to me now. And i loved coffee. And i was reassured that Time is the most fearful aspect of nature. When i returned to where i was, i saw a similar fear on her face, looking more aesthetic with a ting of perplexed-ness, a dash of anger and that sweet little hopelessness that used to make me hold on to her hand whenever i saw her sit like that. I asked her what was wrong. Being a strong woman she said she was fine. But when i did not hesitate to ask again, being a woman, she burst with little droplets of tears and a faint voice that was trying to hold onto them, a most stupid mechanism that i still dont get. The jist of her problem was that her father could be probably arrested for being initially unlucky, then turning filthy, then filthy rich in which period he made his personal mistakes and thus unlucky again. He was also an asshole, who neglected his family treated both his wife and daugther like servants and looked at them with disgust. And only came back during problems and begged for help. I told her that that is how most adults of today are, weak and too full of themselves. It did not help her cause much. I was never good at calming her down with words. I could not be that instantaneouly charming with my words as her moviestars. But like a dear, she would always completely ignore what i would say. Like a dear, she did it again. Her current problem was that her father told her that the police might come looking for him that day. And when they do, she should not tell her about his whereabouts. This he did with such love in his voice, i presume, which had been more discomforting as she could not choose between a father and an asshole anymore.
I sat there, realizing her agony and how alone she might be feeling. How softly her heart always beats when she is lost, it almost feels like she is about to die. I began to feel afraid too then. Knowing i have no reason to be there anymore, she has already left me and that would not even change with anything i do, as she clearly said in those exact words. I was afraid to unnecessarily face the police when and if they came. How to handle them, what to say, how to hide my fear of the police, what if they try to hurt her or take her into custody for questioning? What would i say, if they asked me anything? I saw her face again, probably for a minute or two, it looked so similar to just some time ago when we were still together only in distress. I moved the cold coffee, grabbed her cold hand and reailzed being a man is just accepting how and what it is, and still being there. Being a man is just very necessary when a woman stops being a woman by herself.
So i told her that it will all be fine, trying to hold on to my fear with my faint voice, knowing a little how this stupid mechanism works. I promised her all by myself that i wont leave just yet. She just said a plain and simple “Okay”.
And we sat there holding hands and waiting.
Maybe that is where i went wrong.

The only thing true about everything, is that it will remain incomplete.

All I could think of was of that very moment. The dark room, the white light coming from the window, that faded equally, it seemed, on every piece of furniture in the room, making the resin paste on them glisten. She stood there, in the middle, from me and the god forsaken window that made her look even more beautiful than her age. The only thing alive that was shining in that dark, silent, epmty room. She was smiling now, realising how much we both were loving this moment of doing absolutely nothing. The silence, or rather the inability to say anything. I copied her, realising the same. And then the purpose of our meeting, was metted with. We made love.

In the next morning, we were back at our own separate rooms. I was here lying on my bed contemplating on something or somethings that i could not hold on to. Much like a dream. I did not know what she was up to. Maybe she was with her husband having their breakfast. Maybe doing morning chores, bathing, singing, busy with something but not lying down doing nothing like me. My mind then in a rush got so involved in being this alone that i forgot everything around me. Even where i was, what place it was i was lying, on whose bed. What i knew i remember is me and that woman,and a faint look of her husband.
There was a sudden chaos outside. And i had my attention escape, to discover what was happening outside. I opened the door to my room, and there was this big hall, it was almost dusk. The hall had many large windows, and the light that came from all around made it very easy to guess the time. It was almost like i was standing in the middle of a specific moment in time. She was sitting on a chair, again in the middle surrounded by some number of people and a man in a suit moving furiously. It was her husband, i guessed succesfully. The people kept commenting, some shouting, some saying things to the woman and then to her husband. Sitting there, quiet when she saw me through the small crowd, i could sense her eyes felt some momentary relief which faded quiet as fast as i saw it.
Then she told her story that they all wanted to hear. I could figure out some parts of what she said. I could not hear again. She said she had been unfaithful probably always, she had slept with quiet a few people, even a girl once. When she said the number of guys, maybe because someone asked her, she smiled and said, i think she had said 6 or 8 or maybe 13. I remember she smiled while she said so, as if it was a joke. I felt hurt then, being quiet young and a bit weak at controlling onself. She was a woman of 29(i had asked her , and she had answered without being offended), and me 8bloody years young. It was a mistake what we did, just a one time thing of two stupid horny people. And then i saw her in the middle of those people looking at her with anger, disgust. To them she was not a human figure, not her name even, not a woman, she was just the feeling of anger or digust. A vessel. And i knew, among all of this. Maybe it was a mistake but i decided that she needed to know that i am looking at her too like that time before. So i went near her, knelt down next to her and held on to her hand and looked into her eyes, demanding her attention towards me. She gently looked back. We were doing nothing again, only more closer, more intimate. It seems we were both a little deaf and dumb. I never saw her lips move, but i could hear echose of her voice saying how alone she felt for so long, how she tried to feel love, how mad she went to feel how being with someone felt like. And all she felt every time was absolutely nothing. How much it hurt her, all of it. How difficult it is to be unable to explain oneself, to talk to someone. How numb she became trying to be her and then trying to be someone else. How deeply lost she was, that she had just closed her eyes and let herself float in this dark universe of the lost.
Each echo grew louder and louder than the next, and with each echo everything around me started to demolish itself. The people, the walls, the windows, the light which had come to a brilliant dusk time orangish red. Every atom around me started to burst and dissappear.
A dark, empty universe came into existance. She took her left hand, over mine. I had discovered last night, i liked how her left palm felt on me a little more. She held my hands, almost like she copied me and said – “you did not make me feel alone, and i want to fall in love with you”.
I was lying in my bed. About to wake up from my sleep and this dream, and as my eyes were about to open i saw her tears rolling down her eyes, glistening on the corner. I was about to hold her in my arms for the longest time i ever could and i woke up, my eyes wide open. And all i could do was have tears in my eyes, all by myself.

Happy Birthday.

“Do you remeber the last day you were happy? “, I asked myself, similing to myself, all by myself in my empty room when a friend in a whatsapp group posted this picture of me with my girlfriend, when we were done with class 10. I saw this picture, and knew the answer to my question,and all i could utter was, “women are fickle minded”, as i gazed at her smile in an endless cycle, still smiling and thinking how it all ended- us along with me.

Our school was co-ed and my family had enough women that i came across, to formulate my understanding of their nature. I do not claim to know them still, but then i came in acquaintance with her, and i believed i had found a woman. And my stupid teen mind said, she is the girl i am to marry and love till death and later and so on. I saw all those dreams, because i was filled with so much of love and affection for her. My stupid mind, still dreams profusely and she does not stop forcing her way in, interuppting my life, still so beautiful, i have no choice but to not love her forever. I dare not betray this one true feeling alive even when her love that might thrive in her somewhere, like a seed, never saw growth, never, i believe was even born. Her fickle mind might have missed out on noticing me.

Maybe she did not love me. And i cannot blame her. I was weak then, vulnerable, and i gave myself up without a thought, to loving her. She was strong and beautiful and sensible. Not something I found in anyone else. But on this day, she chose to hold onto my hand instead of anybody else’s. We had moments later on, but this day stands to be the moment when i was happy. This happiness was tangible, and i was holding it. It was, as it has always been- her.

We were together abruptly and suddenly. Precisely like the unplanned rain on a sunny wednesday, when she had first said “i love you” in that three word text. And all of a sudden, like magic, it started raining. And i started shouting i love you Sayante in the middle of the road. That day, i expressed being free,being unstoppable, falling completely in love. And the world, cried along.

If i could stop, i would stop myself at holding her hand here and make my life turn into this picture, but life is not so profoundly fortunate anymore, it seems. I say this because, we were thrown apart to just texts, due to different schools and other teenage restrictions. And we slowly grew apart through less and less conversations. To one Saturday, when i realized in a phonecall that we had to come to an end. So surprisingly, and suddenly,like a thunderstorm during the dead, silent autumn.

All i could think of, coming back from reminiscing through the memories of 4years back is that women maybe fickle minded, but she was more. She had a will, some strong force inside her that she never betrays . It is not about if she is right or she is wrong, or good or bad or stupid, but that she is strongly bound to being herself. Such a person does not need anyone. And yet, she chose to hold my hand that day. I cannot imagine what a girl had to go through all her life until that very moment, but that day she chose me and i am forever grateful to her to make me feel so special. To allow me into her world, because for a girl like her it is never easy to chose a boy like me.

Lovers ask lovers what they love about the other. I have had my share of the question too and came up with well designed answers. But I never did really answer her why. Maybe because I never can. It is simple you know, i chose to love her suddenly, and to never betray that feeling.

But you know strong women like her are very proud. So let us put it like, i promised to her, and just so that she is not left alone at the end of her life, i am keeping that promise and not leave her literally as long as she wants and figuratively always.

Her birthday was on 28th July and i miss her every day. Or maybe, it just women and all women are fickle minded.

You know, i think we have a wrong idea about soulmates. We are all looking for one. But i guess, most of us are actually blessed with one soulmate, that is our Mothers.
They are people and some turn out to be bitches but most of us have not got such a mother.
I call my mum my soulmate because today i woke up to realising today was mother’s day. I feel awkward as shit with duch family emotional times, so i avoid. Because i am sissy piece of shit. I wait for mah sistah to start then i follow. But today, i realised as we had a conversation of our economical status as the main topic. I had a flashback of all such conversations i started to have with my mother at certain points of time in my life. And i find my mother, with an even more flexible and considering and progressive mentality than me sometimes. And i realize what a super human i stay with. She was born earlier for her time. So me and sistah have got a good advisor. And apart from this,i relate to her uncomfortableness with oiram-oirma matters of conversations. And she still gives me my freedom, which i feel great to exploit at time most times as well.
It is not just about mother’s day. But it is true, however most our mothers are. We have got a person who has always be and always naturally will be expendable for us. Good and even evil for us. That is so much of being a soulmate right. With all its wrongs too.
So someday i will celebrate a mother, s day with you, smoje a joint together and chill bebz.
Yo, Ma.

I would like to think about what is a purpose of a human life. Because you know, if you think too much, about loss and then about happiness and hope what, everything probably will bring you down to the basic core question of existentialism, to A Purpose.
Now, i think the framework of it is like (for a lack of substitute explanation) like the formation of sedimentary rocks, one layer at a time. A purpose is to make every event occuring in your life a better reflection on the next. Purpose is not a singular thing. It comes at every occuring event in a life and is designed by your action.
Now when we think of human being,we are governed by one concept which is funny but its nothing is impossible. Because we know a human body and mind together is infinitely capable. (A moment of silence thanking some kind of higher power stuff for not letting that actually happen. Yet.). So what are we capable of?
The answer is mah nigga, you are capable of absolutely…. Nothing.
See, you were an animal primarily. You just grewu up and became human. Its was unnecessary but we did it. But we animals.
To put it in a better way. You dont deserve one fuck you, but i will. Fuck me.

See, capability drives us to what can we be in life. A human being can always be better than he or she is, that is physiologically actually true. But we have a fucking choice. So we choose and there comes doing whatever the fuck we want. Point is, we can always be better than ourselves. But we dont need to be. I live for art, in my little ways i do. And a human form is one unique flaw in the body of an art form. I see it dying, being forgotten, suffocating, in the crowd, dying again. I see it strongly vivid in me and my country.
To be just anyone is as okay as to be someone. ( I could be Bob Marley but i just chose not to sing, is a fucking excuse).
Being mediocre can be fulfilling too. The epic scene in Pusuit of Happiness, that is what you are looking for. To be one among the crowd, but be you, and have that moment of happiness. That is a purpose.
It is very simple. Elementary too.
To think of oneself or a human being as absolutely nothing. Because that is what we are. We have a body that is alive on organs and a brain and mind. We say we have control over our mind and stuffs but come on. Our mind and the actions it take are affceted but what occurs around us or in us as well. Example-horny women during periods, men on watching boobs.
So to accept a human figure as just dead meat. Boom problem of religion-solved. Boom-class difference gone, Boom- no more keeping expectations on people, boom-cannibalism legal,boom- i eat you for dinner.
Coming back to the point, in the end.
It doesn’t even matter.

What i am looking for is freedom.
I am anxious to leave my body.
So take me Death or heaven or hell.
This world, i do not accept as my place.
This skin is itching me.
Why can’t i explode
Into blood or whatever.
So take me,
Someplace better.

  • ~The Human Form, a Tragedy.