It’s Overwhelming 

Writing

It’s overwhelming

How a piece of your skin

Can set mine on fire

Molten gold

Into ashes 

Or stone cold

Like the arctic 

Just by the sheer force 

Of your emotion 

It overwhelming 

How I can feel your concern 

Radiating off of your skin 

I’m waves of heat

And sprinkles of tingles 

When you touch 

The back of my neck 

It’s overwhelming 

When you touch my pinky 

But I can feel your affection

As if you’ve ravaged my entire body 

Enveloping it

In the safe haven 

That is your love 

It’s overwhelming 

How I feel a current pass through 

The entirety of my being 

By the touch of your head

On my shoulder 

With a smile on your face 

But tears flooding your soul

It’s overwhelming 

These emotions that are not mine

That I cannot fathom 

But can somehow feel

Through the slightest touch 

The softest lean

And a whisper of a hug

It’s overwhelming 

Wondering why it is that I feel

What I have not created 

But still touches me

In every way 

Through the people that surround me

Through them

Through you

It’s overwhelming 

Thinking that I might have the ability 

To discern what my loved ones feel

By touching their forehead

Feeling the thunder that resides within them

Even when they smile 

Laugh 

And frolic away 

To the naked eye 

Of those who cannot 

It’s overwhelming 

This 

Whatever this is

Whatever I am trying to figure out

Why I can feel this much 

So much 

Of which isn’t mine 

By just a feather of a touch

From those 

That are my world 

That define my very existence 

That mend my very soul

It’s overwhelming 

It’s you

It’s me

It’s the universe 

That flows through us

When you hold my hand 

And we mix

In the most scary 

Beautiful way

It’s overwhelming 

It’s overwhelming 

It’s overwhelming 

Advertisements

Sin

Writing

I held my lovers hand

Fingers intertwined

Sculpted met dainty

A soft squeeze

A look so kind

We walked through

The busy street

Watching the city

Come alive

The night was young

And so were we

All we needed was each other

And maybe a good party

In this summer heat

We went to a popular place

On my childish whim

It buzzed with energy

Packed to the brim

 

Before we entered

My lover stopped and stared

He had something to ask me

I knew what he would ask

I had found the silver band

I was prepared

I beamed at their nerves

Anxious and oh so sweet

I told them I wanted a drink

I knew it would make them feel better

There would be no cold feet

We entered the cave

Body sweat and heat

Lights met darkness

A rhythm

A beat

We took a few shots

And danced till we were sore

I looked at them like they were the sun

On a cold winter day

There had been nothing I had ever

Wanted

Or loved

More

We clumsily bumped

Into people and things

What a beautiful night

It had been

And it would only get better

We had wings

A forceful bump

A crash and bang

We looked around

Our intoxicated minds

Unable

To understand

A figure walked towards us

People paved a path

What was that look in his eyes

Another bang

It was unbridled wrath

He held up the object

Nestled in his hand

A gun

Pointed at me

My mouth turned to sand

My lover moved in front

Put it down

He told the man

We can talk this through

All he did was

Give a disgusted frown

Please

I begged my lover

But he wouldn’t budge

He straightened up further

 

Another pleading nudge

What have we done to deserve this

Put the gun away

The sick man sneered

BANG

He pulled the trigger

And then spit on my horrified face

Because

He said

It was a sin

to be gay


I offer my deepest condolences to every single person that has been affected directly or indirectly by the recent shooting in Orlando. This is a crime of hate, not of religion or of gender. The LGBTQ community has survived and conquered almost everything in its path, and will be sure to survive and conquer this as well. We stand with you. In the name of love, in the name of humanity.

 

A letter to my love

Writing

Nizamuddin east New Delhi 

April, 2016

Aurangzeb Lane

New Delhi 

To

The love of my life

Dear Love,

I write this to you

In hopes of good health

That I know is already there

For the mental scars you brush off

And the physical bruises you hide

I know every inch

Every colour 

Every length 

Every time 

I hope your parents are well

I know it is difficult 

For you and them

To adjust 

To all the changes life

Is throwing at you

So mercilessly 

How is your brother?

I see your relationship evolve 

From can’t live with

To can’t survive without 

I hope he has carved 

A little niche for himself 

As he wanted

Distance

Sometimes 

Truly is a blessing

And finally 

How are you?

I seem to hear nothing at all

How is the person that taught

So many people 

How to live fearlessly 

Living their life?

Have you garnered the strength 

For yourself

That you dutifully lend 

To those around?

Have you mustered up the laughter

That isn’t just a facade 

The laughter that comes

From deep within your blue soul

The one you always invoke 

From every person you see?

Have those stunning hazel eyes

Shed tears that they should 

But cannot

Because they are busy crinkling 

When you smile

While wiping off another’s?

Have the strong shoulders 

You possess 

Sagged in defeat 

After holding up

The weight of others expectations?

Have those gentle hands

Held a pen

A pick

Or your distressed face 

Lately? 

I miss you

Your voice 

That soothes my pain, my worries

Better than any medicine can

Like a wave that washes away

The remains of any destruction 

Left on shore 

By those less thoughtful 

Less caring 

Less loving 

Less

In every way possible 

Than you 

Take care of yourself 

You deserve more

Than what I give

And I deserve none

Of what I get 

But I cannot leave you be

You make me selfish 

Our souls are too intertwined 

Our connection too strong

Physical presence 

Is just an add on

When one heart

Can feel the cracking of another

From miles

And miles

And miles

away

I hope you will think about what

I have

And am trying 

to convey 

That you are not alone

That you have my undying love

Loyalty 

Gratitude 

Faith

And thanks

For I am what I am today

Whatever little it may be

Because of you

Because of everything 

You have made me

Big changes await you and I 

It is a trial

One bigger than others

We have conquered 

Together 

Tumbling And struggling 

But we are too stubborn 

Too proud 

Too stupid

To let anything waiver us

Who we are

As people

Two individuals

Stuck 

Together

Say hi to your parents for me

I hope they haven’t forgotten 

The face

That landed in their domain

Ever so often

But doesn’t 

Anymore 

Due to life

Being as it is

Give my love to your family

For they are my own

I’ll await your reply

Ever so eagerly 

Thanking you

As always

Yours truly

Bunny

From me, to you, this new year. 

Uncategorized, Writing

Statistics say: one in four people will experience some kind of mental health problem in the course of a year,Statistics say: Mixed anxiety and depression are the most prevalent in mental disorders.

Statistics say… what could they possibly say? How do they matter? They’re numbers on papers sitting miles and miles away having nothing to do with me or you or someone we would actually care about, but no.

Have there been days where you can’t look at yourself in the mirror? Have there been times where you’ve not eaten because you’re afraid of how you’ll look if you gain that extra pound or what people would say if they watched you binge? Have there been days where no cloth is flattering enough to cover or compliment that body of yours that you don’t think is worthy of any praise? Have there been weeks where it gets harder and harder for you to get out of bed because each day is now a tedious, tiring struggle of not being good enough, smart enough, cool enough…

Enough. 

This is not you. Those times were not you. 

Listen, listen closely to me ..to your body. 

You are good. You are brave. You are strong. You are worthy. And you are capable, more capable than you think and more capable than they believe. They are of no consequence their opinions do not define you or confine you, break you or shake you, you will not let them. They are not the people who will wake up every single day to your reflection in every shiny surface and your thoughts and emotions in that ever shining body, no, its you. 

Your teachers or parents or siblings or spouse are the rocks on the road that help you guide your car but you are the master of your own path. You decide the direction, the time, the route and the destination. An outsider’s opinion only matters to the point of self-depreciation when you don’t have an opinion, a flattering one, of yourself.

Do you like yourself? When you look at yourself in the pale shadows cast on you by the bathroom light at four in the morning because your mind wouldn’t let you sleep do you like yourself? As a person? As a whole? Can you look at yourself and hear only strange voices pointing out your numerous flaws, can you hear those voices lending a hand to your own voice and feel it tearing you down…can you?

Don’t self-destruct.

You are not perfect. Perfection is a myth of the gods and a wish of the mortals, you are not perfect and that is more than okay. You don’t have to be. Your happiness, your sanity, your mental health comes before their approval, their norms and their expectations. Its okay to be selfish. Its okay to protect yourself from the venom of this poisonous society.

 Don’t lose compassion.

 Towards yourself and towards others. Be kind and nice, to your own body and to another’s mind. The wants of your own do not outweigh the needs of another, but the wants of another do not outweigh the needs of your own. Its okay to say no. no is a full sentence, explanations and excuses need not follow for the sake of saving face or needless guilt. 

Love.

You, your reflection, your scars and your mind. If the way to show yourself love is by seeking help, there is no shame, there is no harm. You are in this for the long run. You are not crazy, you are not broken, you have not bought dishonour upon yourself. The blood on the blade and the finger in your throat tell stories only you can hear. Share them. Let them listen. Because you are.

You are now listening.

Listening to your body and you mind and not the voices they are surrounded by, not the inconsequential opinions of those that just breathe and do not live and weigh life by figment norms and structures created by generations long before them. 

Statistics say: one in four people will experience some kind of mental problem in the course of the year, 

Statistics say: Mixed anxiety and depression are the most prevalent in mental disorders.

I say: Love yourself, love the world and turn those statistics into what they truly should be: numbers on papers sitting miles and miles away having nothing to do with me or you or someone we care about.

Angrezi Babu

Writing

So I would like to just start off by saying that I have only very recently started using public transportation (Shameful, I know) so my interactions and experiences with the autowalla’s are fairly limited to ‘Bhaiya ____ jane ka kitna loge?’ and the usual bargaining that ensues after they give you an absurdly high price (“Bhaiya GK jaane ka 100rs? hum toh roz 60 main jaate hain. Theek theek lagao ya meter se chalo”) And the way they either stay silent the whole ride or curse and mutter under their breath about how pathetic traffic is, so the following experience was quite a surprise.

I usually have to walk till the gate of my colony to flag down an auto so I set out 10 minutes earlier than I had to leave for class to do just that, as I usually do, when I found an auto passing my house and flagged it down thanking anything and everything that was up there. I asked how much he would take and the first thing he said to me was “Didi, hum meter se chalte hain” (I go by the meter) which anyone living in Delhi would understand, is not as common as it should be. I got on, expecting another mundane, boring ride and regretting not bringing my earphones along, when he said something that struck me at that moment as a bit funny.

“What road do you want to take?”

This isn’t a direct translation, these are his exact words, although a bit hard to decipher with his this accent.

“Any, Bhaiya”

“That’s not an answer beta, no road is a problem you must have a preference na? You must give one answer, no road is problem for me” He said with the amused lit one has when scolding a naughty child.

“__ road is good, bhaiya”

“Good! good!”

After which he proceeded to ask me what I was studying, what I was planning on studying (“US beta?”) and on telling him I was planning on studying in Canada, went “Toronto is quite big no? bigger than Delhi?” and went on to ask if I had family there and how mass media generates a lot of money these days. Thoroughly impressed at this point not just because of his English, but also his general knowledge, my curiosity got the best of me as it generally does.

“Your English and General Knowledge is quite good bhaiya..”

I was not prepared for what he said next, and I paraphrase a little:

“I read English newspapers every single day, beta. My community is quite illiterate,  most of them haven’t been educated so they disapprove of anyone that tried to pursue a good education. They don’t support me, so I can’t call for the English newspapers to my house. My neighbor is a judge, so everyday at 6 when I get off work I change my clothes and go to his house to read his newspaper. My wife is not educated and is surrounded by women that just want to watch serials on TV, so there’s nothing I can do about her. It all depends on the ‘enbiorment’ (environment) na? But I put my children in school.” He replied, smiling to himself.

“The young baccha’s these days go to college and school but have no interest in it. So many times I try to speak to them in English and they say no, we are comfortable speaking Hindi only.” Cue exasperated head shake and tch tch sounds.

“I want to practice my English, its all about practice na?”

“Yes, bhaiya.”

We spoke at length of what he could do to improve, how the youth can improve, corruption and things in general where he would thank me for correcting his dictation and pronunciation . It may not seem like a big deal, but I know those 15 minutes were important for his growth, and our development as a society starts with them. It starts with their growth and their ability to acknowledge and recognize just how important education and being an over all good citizen is.

That day I got off the auto with a new perspective and a renewed sense of hope, and he got off at 6 to head off to read the English newspaper with a few extra bucks and a little more practice.

“I want to be a rich man” He said, “and I’m taking the steps necessary to achieve that goal”.

And I have no doubt that you will, Angrezi Babu, I have no doubt that you will.

Him

Writing

I watch him touch her arm, a gentle, soft caress. She looks at him with that familiar, tender look in her eyes, the one that was once reserved only for me. I watch the way she brushes his hair out of his eyes, a brush of skin, nothing more. The way he smiles a little at the contact makes my heart twist. Clench. Ready to explode. He leans into her warmth, and she holds him closer, tighter. Their bodies melding into one. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists. Not the people rushing around, smiling at the moment they’re sharing together, the isolated emotion, not the sounds, the smells or anything in between or beyond. Her eyes are fixed on him, shining with unshed tears of pure love and joy. Content. She is content next to him, with him nearby. Her heart is finally at peace after all the pain she went through, with me, to reach this point. He shuffles a bit in her embrace, catching and twisting a lock of her ebony hair. I watch as a soft laugh escapes her beautiful lips, the way her hand comes up to hold his wrist and I feel another tug at my heart. Somebody brushes past me, causing me to take a step forward, towards her; them. She looks away from the boy. She was always so beautiful, her features so serene, even without the shadows and liners she insisted on putting on. Her face was bare, today. But she didn’t need anything. We lock eyes. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, her coffee coloured eyes bright and round in surprise. Every emotion I feel is mirrored on her face, words need not be spoken. I stare at her, shamelessly. He shifted again, calling her attention back to him, she looked away from me hastily. He wrapped himself around her, content with finally having gained her attention and I saw another soft smile erupt on her face. Another tug. And then, she looked at me, beckoning me forward, into their private little moment. I stared at him, stunned. He was so at peace with her, as I always was, and I wanted nothing more to leave, but I wasn’t sure if I should. She studied my perplexed state, beckoning me forward once more. Someone brushed past me once again, snapping me out of my reverie, and I walked slowly towards them. He turned to me, sensing my presence. A set of familiar eyes looked back at me. I sucked in a breath. We stared at each other for a moment, unmoving, unblinking. The tugging now stronger than ever. The link between us smiled and shifted.

And then,

I held my son for the first time.

It’s my first time writing anything like this, and I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you would like to see me write anything similar to this in any way again, or have any feedback or comments at all, please do feel free to let me know. Thankyou for reading!

Editing Credits: Akash Ricky Chakraborty 

Check out his blog, he’s amazing. 

https://rickywastaken.wordpress.com/

With love

Writing

My love for you is like a thousand condensed suns that burn the tiny, fragile person they have been fitted inside, right down to her core. Warm and overwhelming, always shining through with its intensity and power. Its like the infinity that many may want but may not get, eternal and whole in nature.

Its the first breeze on a hot summer day, calm and soothing. Like, the first kiss shared between two lovers that had never truly realized the intensity of their feelings until that very moment, passionate and heartfelt. Its like the first few drops of rain in after an unending drought, needed and wholly rejoiced.

Like the stars and the moon and the sun and the sky, bound by eternity. It is like the mother that holds her child for the first time, tender, overwhelming. It’s dew drops that race down your window and fascinate you as a child, the sigh of relief when your stress dissolves.

My love for you, is like nothing I have ever felt before. It is me, it is my whole. My body, mind and soul. My limbs, my heart. My mind, my flesh. My bones, my lungs. My love for you drowns me in every sorrow, every pain and every elation known to man.
My love for you is the universe, explored, but the surface barely scratched. The love that cannot be defined, described or denied in any way, shape or form. So, my love for you, is stuck in similes and smiles, languish and laughter, wonder and wanderlust, daydreams and dread.
Yes, my love for you is like a thousand condensed suns that burn the tiny, fragile person they have been fitted inside, right down to her very core.


Editing credits: Akash Ricky Chakraborty.

You should check out his blog, he’s amazing. 

‘Ricky was taken’ : https://rickywastaken.wordpress.com/

Things Dancers have to hear

Writing

Being a dancer enables your body and soul to be one. You’re in unison with the universe and with yourself. Music is home, pain is nothing, body limitations are practically non existent…and so is the understanding of the people around you. So here are a couple of things that we have to hear on a regular basis, in hopes that you’ll be kind enough to not repeat them and if you do, add a touch of awe and a few inspired tears to go with them. Thanks.

1) “How much will/do you dance?”

Till my feet fall off, thankyou very much.

200 (3)

2) “Stop it, we’re in public

Excuse me, but my body can’t help but move on its own when a good song (or a song in general) comes on.

200

3) “Dancing is okay as a hobby and all, but not a career”

*stabs you*

200 (7)

4) “Can you do a split?”

Yes, yes I can.

200 (12)

5) “Can you show me?”

Yes, yes I can.

200 (13)

6) “If you keep doing that you’ll end up disabled/in the hospital”

Not if I do it right. Thankyou for your concern though.

200 (4)

7) “What’s the difference between * insert two completely different styles*?

We don’t usually mind this that much and do our best to try and explain, but please don’t expect a whole thesis. Google is thy friend.

200 (6)

8) “Do even eat/how much do you eat?”

I eat as much as I should. Goodbye

200 (2)

9) “What do you even wear for dance class/ THAT’S what you wear for dance class?”

I wear what’s comfortable. Dance clothes aren’t all that different from workout clothes.

200 (1)

And the best one:

10) “HOW do you do that?”

Well.

*smirks*

200 (9)

Thanks for coming!

200 (10)

all images via giphy.com

Full

Writing

This is just a spur of the moment thing. It’s raw, unedited emotion. It’s not that good, not by any means, but it’s honest. And I hope that more than makes up for it.

***I’m bursting at the seams

I don’t know what to say

What to write

I don’t know what this feeling is

Is this what bliss feels like?

Utter and complete bliss

It’s funny, you know

I never thought I’ll feel this way

Those days

Those days I couldn’t think about much

Those days I couldn’t think beyond 

Or get beyond

Why I existed 

If there was any reason

Any meaning 

And I’ve found it

And I’ve found them

And I’m so full

I’m so

Full

Of love 

Of passion 

Of inspiration 

Where is this coming from

I don’t understand 

Is this what bliss feels like?

I’ve never felt it before

I’m coloured pink

I’m coloured red

I’m shaking and smiling

And laughing 

And my eyes are soft

And my heart turned into mush

Am I still smiling?

I am

It’s a beautiful feeling 

This

This, really is

All the sadness in the world

It hardly seems fair

Why would anyone choose to hate

When this

This

This is how they could feel

This is how they could be

This is the passion and excitement 

And love

That they could live with every day

This

I don’t understand it

Other than the fact that it makes me

So completely 

So fully happy

I don’t know much about it

I’m lucky

I don’t know

Is this what bliss feels like?

It’s a high

It’s addictive 

I never want to come down

I love

I have so much love

To give 

To you

To them

To everyone 

I think I’m crazy

I think I like it

I think you much agree

I don’t know

Is this what bliss feels like?

Because if it is

I don’t want anything else in the world

Caterpillar

Writing

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/09c/68465697/files/2014/12/img_2612.jpg
The caterpillar moved slowly
At its timely pace
The bugs moved faster
They pushed and pulled
Much to its disgrace
It saw the other caterpillars
Working on their cocoon
The picture was oh so pretty
They’d be perfect soon
It worked and worked
And worked some more
To build a cocoon like them
But alas, it kept breaking
And the butterflies had already
Hatched till then
So it saw them fly
Their colours alive
Now it worked even harder
The butterflies taunted
Wings were flaunted
How high could it strive?
The caterpillar started to lose itself
Amongst its cheery counterparts
So much was expected of it
It wanted to succeed
But didn’t know where to start
The cocoon kept breaking
It tired itself out
It would reach halfway and smile
Only to be told it wasn’t good enough
After a while
The leaf it chose was flaky
Its parents trust in it was shaky
Never pretty
Never good
Never working
Never would
300 days it spent
Trying to live up to everything expected
It’s confidence bent
No growth
No motivation
No love
Hell sent
The caterpillar stopped and stared
At the butterflies
And then itself
They were dreamlike
It was impaired
But the closer it looked
The clearer it saw
Their colours were hollow
Scarred and raw
The antennas bent
Black souled eyes
One leg less
Bent wings
Much to its surprise
It saw them flutter
Around eachother
Masking all their flaws
Their broken cocoons
And homebound leaves
Had just been hiding
Their fatal claws
So the caterpillar stopped
And took one more look
At everything it thought it knew
It decided how it was now
Was for the best
And with that
His confidence grew
It listened, still
To their heavy taunts
Now a little more sure
Of itself
And what it wants
It still moved slowly
At it’s timely pace
Not ashamed of its flaws
No love lost
No disgrace
And so it worked
On it’s own cocoon
Ignoring the unfinished bugs
That hatched too soon
It’s determination grew
It found support
A little more steady now
Ready to make it’s fort
So it spun and spun
And spun some more
Content with the thought
Of having a stronger base
Than the rest
And that in the future
His colours would be
The brightest of the lot.

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/09c/68465697/files/2014/12/img_2610.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/09c/68465697/files/2014/12/img_2613.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/09c/68465697/files/2014/12/img_2611.jpg