viva la France!


namasté, bonjour, hello

to everyone and anyone who still hears me out.

i am in France for the semester among the other things happening in my life)

i have already visited Paris twice, i have seen works by Van Gogh, Dali, Picasso. what have i to keep me alive anymore?

i engage in the beautiful clichés of french life. wine and cheese and coffee and cigarettes. a waking life of poetry and fresh air and nature and culture welcomes me.

i am so far away from what i have been told was my motherland but i feel so at home.

i visited the grave of the love of my life mr james twice and all i could feel was a moment of grief and then came the liberation. i have let go of all that i harbored within and now i am set free.

the question still remains however, what does it mean to be content? is it pure eternal bliss or is it the sense of emptiness that comes from living your dreams and not knowing what to look forward to? i would like to believe it is a bit of both and none.

i think i am finally and truly at peace with who i am today.

i am not the strange piece of poetry that is fragmented at lines and borders

close to free verse or

incoherent ramblings,

the semblance to the words of a drunk.

i am not these clothes of the sixties,

a hippie with free wild hair and passions

to be free.

i am not the overly opinionated,

often misunderstood

angry young girl of twenty something

crying desperately to be heard

trying hard to be.

i am not my dreams and my feelings and my words and my skin and my lips

my touch or my voice.

i am just a world unto myself

without territories




or strife.


I’m still alive.


life has come to a full circle it seems. i cannot speak much today but i must speak about the nostalgia i am bathed in. it is strange and ancient in character. it parts with wisdom and strength. it serves to disillusion an overly idealistic youthful young woman of twenty.
tests on my grandma’s brain reveal that she is indeed a patient suffering from Alzheimer’s. there are not words sufficient enough to explain the overwhelming wave of emotions i experience (or percieve my self to experience) upon this juncture. my grandma, my nani the kindest, most loving and gentle woman who never raised her voice her entire life often finds herself aggrevated by the slightest things that may somewhat confuse her. i am at a complete loss for words to describe my own helpless passive existence. i am unable to convey the crisis i face today as i see someone forget who they are and what they have been. what is it that makes us anyway?
peace love light



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 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.