say no to that woman who broke your heart. the woman who led you to believe in the kindness of women. the woman who robbed you from the certainty of that belief. say no to yourself and all that you are. say no. negation is contagious. i say, say no to all that defines you and all you define. my love, say no to love. perhaps,then and only then will you recognise the existence of the values and ideas that you negate, consciously.

ideally, reason and truth are one and the same. in my ideational irrational reality the truth is evident or perhaps apparent. i feel it is most crucial at this hour to distinctly establish or at the least recognise the underlying unity. but feelings are cheap and of no value in this world of objects.

some words i spewed out at a curious being- And remember what you have seen and learnt. do not,ever make your ego the central perspective of understanding things around you. you may not know or ever realize it, but your existence serves its own special and unique purpose even if YOU don’t feel like it/see it manifest materially.


poetry of a new year/era?


namaste, much love to you (whoever you are). may your new year be filed with light. oh sorry, you may not find light because you are light (i heard something like this during my time in Arambol, Goa). the last month has probably been among the few blocks of time where there has been a peak of beauty as experienced by me in my short course of a lifetime. i finally got to travel, according to my own choices/time. technically, the best thing consumed was those psilocybin mushrooms. but i absorbed the vibrations and energy of the places i went to, as well. i met people i have loved, and those i grew to love; fell in love. there is so much i am capable of, i feel now. i went to Bangalore, where my sister studies. i went to Kodaikanal, a small hill town quite well known for the blessed mushrooms. i went to goa. arambol, i can safely say, is now my love, my life. i went to pune, i met my old friends and love. it so happens that each time i sit to write on this platform of expression my life goes through a peak or some ebb or flow, some change. but then again change is the only constant and am i not clinging to cliches here to find some expression or explanation of the current state of affairs? however, the reason for this delayed post is as always the same, i am writing not virtually. also, i plan on getting a typewriter soon and it should help with what i seek to achieve from this task of writing/expression (some spontaneous prose/ flow of consciousness thought and such).

the poem i am writing now, is just something as random as my random self. i promise it has no edits, and i am going to type it just now. bear with me, my love.

when the sun,
the light
fills your soul;
when the waves,
the ocean
don’t teach,
the limits,
to be
in control.

where the heart
finds peace
truth love and dispassion.
you are
greater than the part
that makes
and the whole.

when the hills,
with voices
of young lost children;
when forests
send creatures
of assured
my heart awakens.

when (un)holy men
their prayers,
words of wisdom;

reminded am i
of the ancient wisdom.
god resides
in no place
other than
within my self,
your self
the self we share.

free your mind/free your self.


my mundane self


i like to take long walks on slippery rainy days
short long walks
strolls inside the house
an empty space almost as grand and void as my lovers’ tears.
i like to think of indifferent poets on empty quiet days.
indifference that has stung my indifferent self.
i like to think I know what beauty means
the empty
grand vessel that
escaped one and all ever since it could be conceived.
i like to think i know what they feel
what they see
and do
on dark empty days
to guard their indifferent souls
from grand meaningless tears.
tears that would stain forevermore their beautiful pertinent (non) existence.
i like to think of myself as an artist
a wildly wise otherworldly indifferent emphatic woman with all to give and no intentions to take.
yes, I do believe we were taught wrong.
Rimbaud should have spelt out my life
and love
instead of
the inconsequential poets
who dominated the books in school and my chronically deprived
indefinite existence,
my heart/soul.
derangement from the senses is needed to experience consciousness and its unbounded boundaries
or so I have gladly accepted as a prime belief.
i like to think i know the masks/masked.
masks adorned and masks abandoned at a momentary or personal convenience .
masks that define lives and those who live them.
i like to think that there is a safe place.
the mind and its infinity
infinite structureless sound strong walls that cannot be permeated yet do not manifest in material form.

so many plans?


hello hi namaste! so,i have 99 followers,from what wordpress tells me.this may not mean much in a competitive society such as ours but i feel truly honored. even if 1/100th (approximately) of my followers/readers(you who are reading this)ends up reading even a sentence from a post, i am happy.

since i am keeping a journal,writing on this blog has been completely off of my mind but i do plan on posting once a week at least.there is so much to be spoken about, so many people, so many ideas, so many things.

so while i have wasted my time being wasted and wasting my (tormented) self on people thereby wasting my wasted little life itself, my depersonalization has come back to haunt me and from what it seems it is here to stay for the little eternity of my little life.

as part of the explanation of a certain concept referred to as “Rasaesthetics” in sociology class at college, the beautiful teacher who explained to us this wonderful and terribly complex concept, used the term “dispassionate passion”, an ultimate form of extremely detached empathy, to speak simply, to describe the ultimate quality of the experience of truly grasping Rasa (which happens to be the essence,the liquid in the vessel,not the vessel itself,if the vessel is seen as a material object/experience/description) in its universal capacity. i am still completely obsessed with the term she used, dispassionate passion. ambivalence has always been the one word that is unchanging in the dictionary i refer to when i try to understand my experience of emotions, so while dispassionate passion might as well technically, linguistically, conceptually be a paradox, in my dictionary this is a term that makes complete sense.i feel as though i can feel everything, but not truly feel it. i think everyone gets to experience this, but this is not what is referred to as “feeling numb”. i know what feeling a plethora of emotions feels like.i know how emotions have the power to shape everything i do. i know empathy,hey,i live empathy. but i don’t truly get touched by any emotions and feelings anymore, it is almost as if i exist on an alternate plane but i don’t because what happens in this plane does affect me (but it really doesn’t,i don’t feel it does?).

or maybe i have truly grown up,and drugs sex and rock n roll (interests of a seemingly previous life of my teen age years) has just translated into peace love and transcendence for me,thus leaving me unaffected by the shenanigans of the foolish material beings i am surrounded by.

i will end by writing something for someone to whom my sexual attraction(this is as “worldly” as it gets) had been great and with whom there was even greater sexual chemistry,perhaps because we both are/were young pseudo-wild foolish kids who loved “having fun” (all of that silly stuff children refer to when they want to describe themselves with these days).and none of that is there anymore,none of the magical stuff, amusement, attraction, something. i’m even bored thinking about him,yawn! S.S ,rich spoilt skinny little boy slut with such sexiness and so many issues with female authority/mommy issues only heightened, challenged,worsened by his narcissistic tendencies. i have always loved your body but your thoughts never amused me,and now even your perfect skinny frame does not excite me anymore,the most i can do for you and you for me is to admire what used to be.

every (not so) slight and (not so) subtle touch of yours is as mundane as smoking a cigarette now,that had the capacity to bring me pleasure even upon the touch of my lips, and as the smoke filled my (damaged) lungs and slowly through my veins crept up to flow through me to complete me (and the chemical content of my body), but not anymore. i want to make love (with someone who know what it truly means) like it is the only thing that can save me from the dreary insensible world,not fuck your brains out (however fun that may have been),you beautiful creature.


what a wonderful world!


well hello there people.

i have completely been out of practice with writing digitally for a while now,somehow gotten into the business of keeping a journal,and i am not not worried that someone will find it and read my inner thoughts and feelings for my handwriting restricts almost every other being from understanding the words.a lot has happened,as usual.i wonder when the ever changing world i inhabit will face positive change.

on the larger scale of things,there is a new government that has been formed in my country;one whose ideology i am not a big fan of.but ofcourse,there has hardly been any possibility for me to agree with the political formations around me,after all, i do consider myself an anarcha-feminist and i don’t see any hope for anarchy or feminism in the world i live in.

everyone is rejoicing in this sea of change-development of the economy being the most critical need of the hour? development ofcourse here,refers to capitalist exploitation reaching its peak,big shot multi national companies “helping” the poor by giving them jobs, more money,more power and happiness. and i,just a cynic hopeless dreamer,can’t help but feel disgusted by the lack of concern by our government society et all for basic human rights. they say, we have our fundamental rights, the lovely constitution safeguards us against the violations of dignity and equality,but hey,rape the women and say boys will be boys,they can,should and will be forgiven.i cannot agree with my peers when they say i have my safety;if i cannot walk out of my home without thinking a million times that what i am wearing, where i am going, what time of the day it is or if i am accompanied by men (oh the protectors!), i am not safe.i am not safe in the largest democracy (democracy,hooray!) of the world where women are raped killed harassed ignored underrepresented and shamed-blamed for all the wrongs done against them.

i am sickened and ashamed to be a part of a world where it is okay for a man to force himself upon a woman just because he can. and no, not all men do so, but yes, all women have been sexually violated at one point or the other in their lives. i have not met a single woman who hasn’t faced sexual harassment in some form or the other; verbal,non-verbal,direct-indirect.and when did it become “normal” to live in such an atmosphere of fear? there is nothing natural about being given self defense lessons because the violators can’t keep it in their pants. why are not these violators being taught that they have no right whatsoever over another person’s body, despite what can be inferred from the situation by their ignorant incompetent incorrect assumptions? (a woman’s body tempting them,and all that).

oh i forgot.we are their property.how dare we speak up!as if our “rights” are not enough,we demand true equality. we expect to be treated with dignity and respect? that,it seems,is blasphemous to even think of.

i am sick of being called a frustrated feminist who is butt-hurt because i speak up against jokes that are but a manifestation of the deep rooted misogyny in this overwhelmingly patriarchal society. i refuse to back down and accept the deterioration that this hierarchical society tries to implement on my personality just because of my gender. i may be eventually alone in this war against the chauvinism that has tried relentlessly, to define me as a creature on this planet, who is only good to bear children, cook and clean, and oh yes,satisfy sexual needs but i know i am not wrong.

i am a human being who deserves to live without fear. i deserve true and absolute freedom, not the freedom you grant me, but freedom that is undefined. i deserve to not be subject to your harassment, and my sexuality and sexual expression has nothing to do with my consent to you,consent that can only depend on my choice.


dear mr. s/m (you know your name)


if i could feel embarrassment anymore,i would be deeply embarrassed,after speaking with you on Monday(i think?). i would hide and run and hide forever, but right now all i can do is sit and laugh (at myself,) for being such a strange woman and (for you,) for the horrible surprise/timing .[let me just say, after losing the most important man in my life(my father), your gender has ceased to affect me, embarrass me or hurt me; you’ll just amuse me if i’m lucky].

i am certainly more comfortable and honest here,in my writing, than in speech. hence,i must write. the distance between me and the words i have to write is quite comforting, for i am not too glad about having other people know clearly about the message i wish to convey through the (in)sincere words i say. you are probably disturbed by me and by now disinterested (if you weren’t already) but i shall stop talking about myself now and talk about (what i wish to convey to) you.

although we barely speak with one another,you seem to me a person with whom i can enjoy an interesting conversation.though it may seem strange to you, i find myself quite attracted to you and would gladly take you our/have you take me out (whatever works for you).

i want to get to know you,if only you’d let me.

i am hardly a believer in the strictly-monogamous,socially labelled/approved institution of dating, and as i must have said,i am not asking for anything serious(that is absurd to me).names, labels, definitions and every other trivial associated worldly explanations can be figured out in the due course of time.

i completely understand that you’d only want to be a friend (i also understand that is just a polite way to reject/insult me),and i would happily accept that too,for i feel you are someone worth spending my energy on but i do hope for something less mundane than ordinary friendship, i truly do feel (instinctively) that we could be good together.

i don’t do such things often,such as ask someone for their time,for it is so much easier and settling to have someone do that for me,but for you i have made an exception.

so let me know whatever it is that you want me to know after (and if) you have read this.

i hope you consider me. you know where to find me.

peace. love . anarchy .

the rain


[i have been rather uninspired by people these days because i am trying to find myself and my one true voice,because i feel there are too many voices within me and this must stop if i wish to maintain a level of (in)sanity that i find comfortable. but while starting a journey that i know has no end (for there is no end to what truly is or isn’t and the nature of daily experiences deemed as reality aren’t necessarily real) i am increasingly becoming aware of the presence of a filter that inhibits my poor old heart from singing its complex song. i have been studying a lot of psychology,mostly Freudian psychology (as my sister wants to be a clinical psychologist and is a great fan of the big man) and this has made me question the reality of the self awareness i earlier seemed to possess. a lot of retrospection and introspection later i have recognized a few of the ego defense mechanisms i use and although such mechanisms are designed to protect one’s ego they can result in a large-scale distortion of reality too. displacement, projection, reaction formation and most importantly sublimation. with this new-found sense of self and reality i now see others with similar flaws and imperfections, but i try to remind myself that in this imperfection is perfection, because this seems to provide me with a sense of calm. but,i digress. the reason i am uninspired is that because of all this humans are becoming increasingly predictable. some things and people do still inspire me though. the poem i have written below was written when it rained all night.the rain gods showered the people in my city with their blessings.i was in my best friend’s house, M, a patient, kind, understanding and beautiful woman whom i truly love. we were talking about how our dreams made more sense to us and how our waking life was so different. i smoked some hash,sitting on her windowsill,trying to avoid the rain and eye contact with the judgmental woman who lived on the opposite building. we were lying down and speaking of beauty in all things and how the world should end to give rise to this beauty, and somewhere along the conversation M fell asleep. it was then when i wrote this poem.]

the rain.

here is
the rain
to remind us
humankind has
destroyed us,again.
an age
of pain,
hear the
screaming sages-
the insane!
queer as a rainbow,
these Gods of
the smoke filled
entirely hooked
on lies
and sex
the devil
comes the rain.
we have
better days,
they say.
days of glory,
my dear.
we reigned.
reminded of
a nostalgia trip
highly unholy,
these children
the sane.
(entirely composed
and father’s
here is
the rain,
to tell us
has sinned,
rape! murder!
these children! they cry!
incredulous expeditions,
a hopeful time.
unholy signs,
all important,
since all signify,
the plastic time,
of beauty queens.
these plastic dreams,
in materialist schemes.
those plastic smiles,
with souls for hire.
everyone’s at stake.
let me introduce you
to your
very first buyer.
one thing
to remember
a liar.
here is
the rain
to tell me
your name,
my dear
your beauty
ever so
an eternal fire.

and now
the rain
until we meet again!

peace. love. anarchy.