Candlelit Battleground

Was there a purpose behind the way she moved?
Timid and curious one foot after the other
She reached out for your hand but barely touched it with her fingers
Before you grabbed her neck and threw her across the room

Her blood was intact in her veins
But that night something else was released
A monster that once was caged
Behind fishnet stockings and satin drapes
She roared as she tore the sacred chains
And then she raised her neck and smelt the room
Her mouth slightly open tasting the air

You took over her senses
She took over your body

It was a war between mind and matter
Between my animal instincts and my humanity
Between your cold heart and your warm flesh

Tonight it's war between you and me
And we won't stop till we paint the ground red.

Bygone begone

Why do you let the shadows of bygone haunt you?
'Let bygones be bygones', they say it for your health
Let us pretend to be new born every time we open our eyes
With no memory of the past, countless possibilities in sight

Lets climb highest mountain
And scream from it's highest peak
Bygone begone!
Bygone begone!
Bygone begone!

Place a black veil over a black wall
Light a torch towards the burning sun
Let us pass our time pretending and restraining
It is all make-believe

Utopia

Tell me how is this night is different from any other
The hurting never stops
It doesn't need attention, tears or kindness
Breaking the cage, slithering through my veins
It moves like a snake.

It moves like a snake
Guardian of my Utopian dreams

Defeating me, protecting me.

White is for healing

Here I lie
Waiting for you to open your eyes
Do you see me?
I could be invisible
Lying next to you makes me doubt my existence.

I have buried the ghost
but once it hears my longing
it will travel through the earth back to my heart

I once opened a door to watch the maple leaves fall on the floor
But as I walked my empty self to the graveyard
the snow had covered the leaves

White is for healing

Here I lie
Waiting for you to open your eyes
And when you did
I didn't see you any more
you are invisible
we are invisible.
Our existence is like the ghost
Like maple leaves buried under the snow. 

Aim, shoot and regret

Decisions, decisions.
Welcome to adulthood.
I am probably going to look back someday and laugh that I spent 24 hours obsessing about this one thing but right now I am in a battle.
When you are in the battlefield there is no past and no future. Only now. Right now.
Right now there are decisions to be made.
Which road do I pick? What kind of person will I be if I take on this journey? Am I even ready for it? I don't want to die in vain.
Everyone is in a frenzy to achieve something.
Can I get a moment please?
And can you make it last forever?
I am wounded and I cannot fight.
Forgive me for being a coward but I am not ready to die and I am not ready to heal.
Let me bleed this time.
Let it be forever.

Smell of Bodhi

Just before the dawn
Before the first ray of light hits my life
Shadows come alive
They whisper in my ears, begging me not to open my eyes
I am the daughter of the night
How can I betray the darkness?
The sun is my oblivion

Invisible line

I walk on an invisible line

Infinite possibilities with a blink of an eye

Roses have blossomed among the refuse

Hope and faith have survived.

Daydreamer

Tiny frame can only hold so many colours 

Without letting it drip out of the golden gates

I wanted to be the ocean, the moon, the night

I wanted to be God’s own design

Instead they put me in cage

Teased me every time I closed my eyes

Now I am soiled with time and space

I have been told to be happy when the sun shines

But I am the daughter of the moon and the night. 

Whims Of A Shy Girl

I stood at the corner of the stairways listening to people talking about random, unimportant. I wanted to go downstairs, I was hungry. But their voices made my legs freeze. I knew if I go down I’ll have to talk to them… greet them, and do all the formalities that I absolutely hate and never understand.

If I just went downstairs and make it to the kitchen without saying a word they’ll think I am rude and uninterested. The later I was but not rude, never intentionally.

I am standing still but my brain is racing, struggling. It tells me to move my feet and go downstairs, be polite and then go to the kitchen. Could such a simple thing be a dilemma? What was I afraid of? They don’t live to judge me, they don’t care. But it’s not about the judgment. I just want to be invisible. I want more space. I feel the air is full of their energy, their thoughts.

I can’t just stand in once place, it’s already been thirty minutes. I go to my room and check my face. I look presentable, that’s encouraging. I spend some more time pacing from the edge of the stairway to my room, still listening to their voices. I can’t be a prisoner in my own house. I repeat this in my head over and over again.

Maybe I should go back to my room and wait for them to leave. Next thing I know, I am making my way down the stairs with a smile on my face.  I greet them and they greet me back. It happened so quick, almost effortlessly. I reach the kitchen and breathe out in relief

It’s over...for now. 

Yours Truly

She loves me unconditionally that I know

She will come for me one day

From sickness she will comfort me

Or my health she will take away.

I will lay the bricks and share my blood

I will shout my name from mountain tops

And when I think I have seen enough

Her presence will show me things I have never seen

Her touch will ignite my worst fear

And her kiss will make me fall in love.

My lover don’t punish me with your abstruse moves

Send me a sign before we meet again?

And I shall being you flowers

Take you in my arms like I never let you go

Before we take off for another adventure

And you leave me again

For a moment we will embrace

Until life do us apart.

via Google images 

Touch of Fate

What happens to mysteries that never get solved?

They go back to live in closed drawers

Silently waiting for a seeker to pass by

Hoping that he could be a little more sly

Zealous and bursting with pride

Skilled in discovering the meaning of unspoked words  

But the fates of mysterious things are cruel

Long they wait to be unraveled

Only to be abandoned and forgotten.

Behind hating, beyond hatred.

Sometimes no matter how far I try to run away from all the hate and negativity in this world, everywhere I turn, I see a hater. Their eyes that judge every moving thing, mouth that can only speak hurtful words. Even if they are dropped into a big tank of melted milk chocolate, they will still come out tasting bitter!

I can’t help but wonder the reason behind their hostility towards all things living. What satisfaction they get by putting others down? Is that a way to make them feel better about their own life? Something very silly can infuriate them so much that they can’t even keep those rancid, decaying thoughts to themselves. No, they have to open up their mouth and spill it all in the name of being ‘real’.

But what is behind their faces? Behind those abhorring, scorned expressions? Who are these people and what are their stories? Sometimes I think they are hurt. That every baseless comment they pass is just a cry for help. Perhaps they are immature and naïve, that they do not understand the power of words.  They must be too busy to look back and witness the repercussions of their comments. . They never saw the heartbreak. So they never knew they hated. 

Can they be just plain evil? Sadists who like to watch people burn in all consuming fire of their anger.

Or maybe, just maybe they are wounded and the only remedy they know is tears of their victims.

 "Hating is like burning down your own house to get rid of a rat." - Harry Emerson Fosdick 

Enigma

He raised the veil hoping to unravel a mystery. But her eyes were closed.
It's the nature of few women and stars, we live in secrecy, we talk in codes and thrive in little thing that are invisible to you.
She could never be tamed, like her hair that fell free on her face.
And whenever she talked it sounded like poetry.
Some were enchanted by her, others never listened carefully.
Her aura extends to the world you have never seen.
Even with all the grandeur, she is easily missed on the streets.

Mind your Language

I am an Indian and my mother tongue is Hindi. Hindi is also our official language, English is the second official language. Constitution of India recognizes no national language, which is appropriate because there are way too many regional languages (Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, Punjabi etc.). If you are a foreigner and you think learning Hindi will help you have a proper conversation in South then you are sadly mistaken. Not like Southies don't understand Hindi, they just refuse to speak it.
In my house we speak Hindi (or Hindi-Urdu to be accurate) in Andamani dialect, it's not much different but it has its own flair. It certainly is not the purest form of Hindi but I don't know who speaks like that anyway.
My mother is a mainlander and my dad is an islander, they both have their own way of speaking Hindi. Mine I would say is a mix of both style and not to forget I went to a English medium school, so I speak Hinglish, like many other people of my generation.

The funny thing is, I am more comfortable speaking English sometimes, maybe it's because I live in England now. But surely I can't put it above my mother tongue? Or can I?
I passed school with A grade in Hindi and B in English. So I guess my Hindi is better.

But grades have no significance in real life.

Today I went to get my eyes checked. They had one of those things that you read from a distance to check your vision. It had four sides, one was English alphabets another was assortments of animals, third was different signs and fourth was Hindi alphabets. I always read the English one but the problem is that I have had a lot of eye check ups and I have pretty much memorised the English one. So this time I had to choose something else.

I sat down on a stool and looked straight. There they were, Hindi alphabets arranged randomly. I stared at it for sometime and I just couldn't get it. I knew what they were but they seemed alien to me somehow. Like it was not the language I speak everyday at home. I said I'm not comfortable with Hindi so I'll read the signs. After trying different numbers, we came to the conclusion that the glasses I am using now is fine.

So I sat there with my 6/6 vision thinking why I didn't want to read Hindi. Is it some kind of self-hate? But it wasn't, because I didn't feel that I don't like Hindi. I like it, it's just complicated.  I have to think a lot while reading it. I don't read Hindi subtitles on TV because they go away in seconds before I can figure out what was written, I only read it if it's romanized. I don't watch Hindi news because I feel I have to concentrate to figure out those big complicated Hindi words they use. But I have no problem watching Hindi sitcoms as they are a more lighter version of Hindi, there are no heavy duty words there.

I thought of other things too. Like how I can only count till 20 in Hindi. How shameful is that? I got a A grade for the same language. And this was not like billion years ago, it's only been four years. Were the teachers really happy the day the marked me? Were they drunk? Did they have really good sex or their favourite cricket team won the match or something? They seem to be very generous with their grades.
Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I gave English an upper hand because I write in English. And really the last time I wrote more than two words in Hindi was four years ago.

I wonder if my kids will have more trouble with Hindi. I live in a multi-cultural country now so I guess I can have babies with anyone. There are good chances that my kids can be bi-racial. They would probably never write a word of Hindi, unless I want them to. But do I actually give a fuck? That is the real question.

I am always prepared.

I didn't sleep until 6am in the morning. Around 8am I heard a sharp knock on my door followed by my sister asking me, "Do you want to go down to the beach today with us?". After considering the pros and cons for few mins (cons being I only had 2 hours of sleep) I agreed to go with her and her friends who are visiting Andaman.

After breakfast my sister gave me 30mins to get ready. So I rushed upstairs, had my morning fag and chose a coral top and harem pants to wear, slapped on my coral lipstick, lathered SPF 50 all over my face and body. Voilà! beach perfect in less that 10 mins. I spent rest of my time packing essentials for the beach. I thought of taking my swimming costume because but instead I packed a cropped legging, a white tank top and another white lacy top to go above it. I thought swimming costume would be too revealing and no one actually wears costumes in beaches here except 5 year old. My sister asked me if I have packed everything and I replied, "I am always prepared".

Nothing beats the feeling of being at the beach. Tiny grains of sand under my feet felt orgasmic. Warm weather, cool water and smell of the sea awakened all of my senses. I went in the changing room to change into my cropped black leggings and white tank top. After that me and my sister jumped into the water playing and laughing like little children. I don't even know why I was laughing, the salt water acted like a drug. I discovered that of all the places to be, we experience immense happiness and freedom only around nature and not inside the brick walls we build for safety.  


But all my philosophy went out of the door when my sister pointed out that my tank top is now transparent. Here I am, surrounded by people who are in the water clad from head to toe in their sarees and salwars, and my nipples are clearly visible through my white top. I felt more exposed than I was. I decided to hide my upper half, find a tree and wear my bra inside my top and then go into the water again.

After that I went in the water fearless and we played for about 2 hours and sun bathed. Everything was going well until my sister's friend whispered that my legging is ripped, that too near my bum. I went to the deeper side of water so I can be inspect the rip myself. To my horror it was a huge rip over my right bum and thigh. Why God Why? Why me? Are you just trying to pull me down while you sit in heaven above, eat popcorn and watch me get humiliated?

I wrapped a towel around me went to the changing room and changed into my coral top and harem pants.

One thing kept echoing in my ears and mocking me " I am always prepared".

A word of advice : don't take old leggings and white tank tops to beach. Or better yet, take a god damn swimming costume.

I have a secret

I have a secret that I will take with me to the grave. 

Through out our lives, there is so much that goes on in our head. There are so many things we do that we think should be buried deep within us, it could be anything, stealing, affairs, addictions, how different are they from each other anyway? But I truly believe in letting it all out before I pass on from this world. 

So, you see? When I say that I have a secret that I'll take with me to the grave, I am fighting against myself and what I stand for. Honesty, fearlessness, courage...I am willing to turn of all the light around to protect the darkness I hold in my heart.

I have been taught by my guides that one must never take that darkness with them to the beyond. To start a fresh journey old luggage must be dealt with. It has no use. In fact if you decide to take the same luggage, the same burden with you, you will travel the same road again and again until the weight is gone. 


Today I stand at crossroads. I feel like a student who left the school but all her knowledge is of no use as she has succumbed to the force of this physical reality. 
I don't know if I can enjoy the warmth of the sun when I have given my heart to the dark night. 


Secrets haunt you. You can't forget it or ignore it. It's a vicious circle, one day it'll stand in front of you, waiting for you to confront. How can the past be left behind if you choose to carry it with you.

It scares me to think that a part of me is out of control, reckless, inappropriate and dangerous.


Am I the predator or the victim? 

Sin, guilt, neurosis; they are one and the same, the fruit of the tree of knowledge.- Henry Miller

Faith

I have been walking back and forth for awhile now

Waiting for the wise one to appear

I hope someday I’ll see their faces

They’ll smile and tell me the secret

And the doors to another world will open

I’ll finally be out of my miseries

I’ll be loved by my own unconditionally

And forever be remembered for my bravery. 

My Broken Glasses

I wish I had rainbow on my lips, glittering skin and rosy-coloured glasses on my eyes, walking down the street.  But the bitter sweet confessions rolling out of my tongue attracts only silence. Is it the rumblings in my head or sounds cars in the distance? Or is it the wine of my thoughts that have dragged me out to witness insanity? Corners of the street I stand like a shadow of humanity; on the silver sheets of dreams I talk to mirrors, addressing to all of the fraternity. 

I am deeply concerned about nothing.

Social Networking sites are not only useful for finding your long lost friends or making new ones, in a "developing" country like India it is also a tool to bash the government.
Granted there are lot of flaws in our  system but how is moaning about it online will sort out anything?

I can only speak about Andaman. A lot of people have been posting their so called "concern" about things like internet connectivity. I understand the pain of having a slow internet, I really do. I know what it feels like when all your friends are liking and commenting on a picture and the picture won't load for you.

But in a place like Andaman where load shedding is as common as house lizards (very common), who care about internet connectivity? Forget electricity and internet, you know how long its been since I have tasted a fresh piece of fruit? People don't understand how hard it is to live in these islands.  I make it sound like it's really bad, but unlike many others in India, I got a big roof over my head and food to eat even if it's not super fresh. For that I am thankful.

I really don't like to talk about the condition here because spend more than half of the year outside India, I feel I have no right to have any opinions. I have very little information about the current affairs in these islands but I do know complaining never helps. Venting can only take a load off your chest (I do it often) but hoping it'll start a revolution is just stupid. Please remove this fake mask of concern and shut the f**k up. You are not concerned citizen of this country you are just a smartass who knows too much and does very little.

PS- I am complaining about people who complain. How very original of me. 

Mishka and Nemo

 Mishka was always the slow one. Her sister Nemo was the first one to climb the stairs but Mishka took her time to learn things.  It’s been few weeks that I have returned back home to Andaman, watching Mishka and Nemo play together was my favorite way to spend time.

Today Mishka passed away. She was only few months old. The kid in my neighborhood says she got hit by a car last night. I cried when i saw her sprawled by the side of our garage. Death generally never makes me cry. 

The relationship between dogs and my family is complicated. We have stray dogs who prefer to stay around our house, they have free will to go anywhere but most of the time they choose to stay in front of our house and bark at people who tries to enter the gate. In every few months, mostly when I am in England, my mother would call me to let me know if anyone of them has had babies.  Not all the babies survive more than few days.  Those who do are lucky, like Mishka and Nemo.

A couple of days before my sister offered to take Nemo off our hands. But I refused because I didn’t want Mishka to grow up alone. Now that Mishka is gone, I don’t know what to do. My mother suggested that we can still give Nemo to my sister.

It’s hard to let go of Nemo. But it’s harder to see her without Mishka. I wonder if Nemo misses her like I do.  Perhaps it’s best for Nemo to go to my sisters. I want Nemo to live and I am scared if she stays here with me, one night she will go out on the street and end up like Mishka.

Nemo has always been the clever one. But I have to think of her well-being. I guess this time it’s best to let go. If they still want her, I’ll let her go.

I have no pictures of Mishka (she was a black puppy with brown patches around her eyes and nose , Nemo is light brown puppy), this blogpost is the only way to keep her memories alive. She will not be forgotten like others who passed away. She was not a pet but she was definitely not a stray. 

PS - Boori is Mishka and Nemo's mother. I have mentioned them here. Bella is no more with us. 

Lips Of Steel

They say her heart is like still water, you can see the reflection of beauty or beast. 

But the best thing about her is her lips, a pair of sharp blades,  every word she says will tear you apart.

She’ll sell pieces of your heart in the name of honesty while you bow your head and stand half-hearted full of shame.

Don’t go running when the truth overpowers your ego. The truth is, little ego is a necessity.

Resolution

I don’t need to look behind my back before I shout from the mountain top

I don’t need to dust the dirt off the road I choose to walk on

You have tainted the sound of being

I’ll still find courage to rejoice. 

Sorry, you are too Andamani for me - The Sequel

Andaman is like mini India. We have people from all over India living here. Everyone knows someone who comes from another religion or state. There are locals, like my family, who moved to Andaman from mainland India long ago (pre-1942) and then there are settlers.

Tonight my family was invited for a dinner in a non-Andamani house, in a very Andamani street. When I say Andamani street, I mean you can smell the cow dung and the ocean all at the same time.  I have already described a typical Andamani house but this house is different. This is a house with sculptures of beautiful women and what looked like a cupid. The house was built on the graveyard of money, for crying out loud there was a waterfall in the living room! This beautiful piece of architecture was built by a local, now rented by settlers, both parties happen to be our family friends.

Just after few minutes of entering the house, men deserted us to meet their lady of the night – alcohol. And we females had to make our piece with fruit juice, sausages and salami (sausages and salami is not very Andamani but we were in navy house, that means unlimited supply of imported goods).  I’m pretty sure all the ladies in the house have had a few drinks in their life but tonight we were good Indian women who can only watch men getting drunk and loose and then moan about it. The thing that annoyed me the most was that we were not even given an option of an alcoholic drink, not even an elegant glass of wine? It was either mixed fruit juice, lychee juice or orange juice.

There were 4 kids running around creating mayhem which saved us from a lot of awkward silence hovering in the air. Food obviously was the reason we all were there. Let me tell you, this is an unspoken law of Andaman, or maybe even the whole of India, when it comes to food the host must be persistent and the guest must be resistant. We all obeyed the law.  As a guest, if you had one serving of food, you win but if the host has managed to feed you three servings then you lose. Two servings is a tie I guess.

At the dinner table our hostess told us stories of her home in mainland India. She told us how women were only responsible for kitchen and men controlled everything else. She mentioned that she was taken aback when she learned how liberal my family was. And then she said something that I thought was very contradicting; she said she believed that men and women must be equal and everything must be 50-50 between them.

Here I am, sitting with the woman who believes in equality between men and women and yet there is nothing that is happening in the dinner party that seemed to follow the same notion of gender equality. All I saw was the typical men drinking at some corner and women making small talk and watching over the kids. These are the so called ‘modern’ people, young settlers who can save Andaman from its monotonous life.  I expected everyone to sit together and have a mature conversation but of course I am shooting for the stars here.

I guess there are some things that will never happen in Andaman, like I will never be able to have a cigarette outside my room because good girls don’t smoke, they probably don’t even know what it is…is it the white thing hanging from their fathers mouth?

Or maybe I am being pessimistic; it takes a while to grow into another lifestyle.  Maybe being modern (the term itself is very controversial in India, but that’ll take another post to explain) in Andaman is like buying a fancy car, it looks pretty…but you can’t drive it in the rocky roads of Andaman. 

Click here for the original Sorry, you are too Andamani for me. 

Death Sentence

Our heads always have been on the chopping block. If you hate me because of my colour or my faith you can sentence me to death .

I have a problem, I can't think right. I have made many kids cry for help. Maybe it's fair for you to close all the windows and let no light come in. Don't I deserve to breathe the same air of sanity like you do?
But my hands were made to be marked and my face to be painted black.

I see you chose to stand on the other side of the road, wearing the robes of a saint, then why do you carry a knife in your hand? Your hands are drenched with the blood of a sinner, it is just as red as mine. But I am the one who is suppose to die.

Brother, my death is your death, my life is your life.

Plastic Flowers

If I sell your favorite shiny black boots to the wrath of drought, will it wither under the stare of the sun? The stories from city can save your throat for only so long. Past week or past life, your memories will betray you.

Instead I'll cover you with fluorescent lights, the moon will abandon you. If you love the cold metal monster breathing down your neck I'll let the ocean breeze know you don't miss it anymore . Concrete walls and graying streets, green fields of plastic creates such beauty that the softness of  leaves is too insignificant to be felt again.

I'll give you everything outside so you'll never have to look inside again.

Diamonds

I was born on a sacrificial stone.

They chanted through the night till the last strip of grey was painted red.When I woke up from my slumber, I had another name. 

The only one familiar is the one I can't see, the one I can't touch. Why do I bring bear this burden of knowing? All it's ever done is made me seem aloof.

But every time I find a diamond under it's black veil, it gives me hope and I pray for strength to carry on. It's something about your beautiful eyes, when it smiles with joy, I feel closer to home.

Everyday Miracles

I ask myself everyday, why do i play this game? Is it even worth winning when there is so much to lose?

Sometimes I like to watch people on the street, to be a witness of their existence and still be invisible. Like i am the smallest thing in the world, a fleeting moment, a curious glance, a question waiting to be answered or an answer searching for a question.

And then the big bad monster goes away because I am too small to be found, to insignificant to be around.
I don't know you and you don't know me. But somehow we are here together, if that is not a miracle, then what is?

Alone

My housemates are in celebrating Easter with their parents, so I get the house to myself. It's quite nice actually. Not to close to bathroom door all the time, I can talk as loudly as i want to, I can sing without being told I am out of tune. It is a nice change.

I have been wondering what loneliness is. More often than not, I choose to be alone. I am an introvert (INFJ) so I always need to recharge myself my having some alone time. But I guess alone time does not equal the feeling of being lonely.

Webster's dictionary describes lonely as "being without company". One can be alone if no one is around but can feel alone in midst of a crowd. So it's really about being alone or feeling alone.Sometimes being alone helps you figure out yourself, it clears your head and gives you a fresh perspective. To be in company with yourself is very comforting. On the other hand,  feeling alone tears you apart. Nothing is more disturbing than feeling lonely, it's like you need to save yourself from yourself. If only someone can hear the screams in your head.

But often I find that the I cannot save a person who feels lonely. No matter how much I try to guide them out of the darkness, sooner or later they will leave my hand and run back to it again. And I have discovered that it is not me who holds the key to get them out of that dark room. They key has always been in their pocket.

The light is always within.

Good Read

Photography by ME

Rain

The moment I move on is often hidden by the mundane. Only after I have walked few miles, that I look back and realize what is left behind. A shadow, an echo of memories is what you have become. What comes after the judgement day?

Forgetfulness maybe.

Now when it rains, I relish every moment of it. Water will seep into me. That forever will be mine.

To see beauty is a bliss...to hold it, is Nirvana.

Closed

I often come cross people who are 'closed'. Some say they are know-it-all, other's say they are insecure with themselves. No one actually knows the real reason...because they are closed. It's like tasting a cyanide...you can't actually know the taste because you are dead before you know it.

Maybe being "closed" is not as deadly as cyanide, or is it? Maybe it's a slow poison. Little by little it kills any hope for the imagination to escape. No curiosity, no thirst to learn, no love, no hate.
Closed like you have never seen the light. Like you have never known the dark.

I am exaggerating obviously. You won't go to that extent. You will sense the danger and stop.

But what if you don't?

 Oh! i forgot, if's and but's don't work in your world. All the possibilities is out of reach. All you see is what really exists.

Call me crazy but I like to draw outside the line. 

A Hermit's Sight

At night I often become a spectator of my own life

Of the words that I have spoken and the paths I chose

Each time I discovered how fickle time really is

And it’s a conclusion that many have come to

But it never misses to amuse me

A flame that once burned is transformed into smoke

With every hope that’s blown out, it gets harder to breathe

It’s not sad, maybe just a little disappointing

And many may have felt this in their journey of discovery

But it never misses to amuse me

Though my mind has never given up

These sounds and images are quite disturbing

And through this corruption and chaos

At night I often become a spectator of my own life. 

Faces of Love

It's Valentines day, so how can I think about anything but love.

I am single and most of my friends are. Whenever one of us feels low I always advice them to be content being alone. Whenever they ask "Am I not worth being loved", I say stop feeling like you are not worth it, when the time is right love will come.

Yet no one can deny the emptiness we feel. The sinking feeling that there never may be a 'right time' and we cannot deny that love indeed is the greatest form of self-validation. A person can be born with one eye and two nose, but if he/she is loved then the fight has already been won.

Love is the reason why people feel accepted or rejected. Like a pure energy it could be the the light or dark.

We in this physical world have the power to manipulate energy. Our thoughts and words can make someone feel loved but prejudices often stop us from loving people, forces them to ask themself if they are worth it.

Isn't everyone worth it? And why would someone's race, sexual orientation, their physical attractiveness etc get involved in matters of the heart?

Why can't we all unconditionally love each other...why is a stranger threatening, why is the unknown scary?

Love is grande. And I guess that is why we need families, friends, soulmates and twin flame to understand and experience it completely. It seems like one lifetime just isn't enough to appreciate all the faces of love.

My Tumblr

I once said that I am not a fan of Tumblr but things change.  I have a Tumblr now. I will keep posting in blogspot  because this is a better place to write. But they say a picture is worth a thousand words, sadly i can't give that excuse when there is an essay to write for uni.

But I can post lots of pictures and quotes on Tumblr.

Check it out, it's free. 

PS- I am not betraying blogger. I can have both of them right?

Estuary

I am surrounded by mundane things.

On uni days I need to follow my routine. I have to get up on a specific time, get ready and leave for the class early. Most importantly I have to sleep early, which is hard because I am nocturnal. But I fear missing a class or being all tired the next day so I put on a light relaxing music that will help me sleep.

Routine makes me sad. But it is the only way I can survive this mundane world. I often wonder if I am in the wrong place. I wonder if I am ever truly present. But here a sign on the attendance list is all it takes.
I was present, I was invisible.

What keeps me here? A sense of purpose? Or lack of courage... or is it just the fact that I am suppose to be present.
I need to get through this. I need to endure.

And one day the river will meet the ocean.

Stone

How can I introduce myself to you? Before a home, there was a house, and the house is made of me.

 I have heard your cries when you thought you were in hiding. I am the keeper of your secrets. 

 Unlike you, I have no voice. I am the most patient listener, a faithful observer. 

When you fight with your lover and shut yourself in a room, you are vulnerable without your mask of ego. You whisper an apology, I wish your lover could hear what I hear. 

Many faces you have my dear, truest of all you have been with me. I wish I could let the world know that your heart is of gold. 

But I have to hold my silence, for this is the curse of being a stone. 

A Whole Lot of Nothing

I am in U.K. now...good ol' Epsom. It's really cold here but still no snow, which is really disappointing. My classes haven't started yet, that means I have a whole lot of nothing to do. Makes me feel pretty useless. These are the times when I miss projects and assignments. It took me immense strength to write this post, because once the devilish bug of laziness bites you, it's really hard to do anything.

Fashion Menswear collections for 2012 fall is out, which I can't get myself to face. I have just started to look into it.

I keep checking the weather forecast for snow... but here is what my life's forecast looks like -

Gloomy with short periods of sunshine. 

Thank goodness for the short periods of sunshine. Thank goodness for the gloomy days so I can cozy up for a while and do nothing.

I AM Presence

Who am I?
A distressed soul locked in a shell
I have often asked this question
Until I became the question.

I am in every brick of my house
I am in everything I see
I am in everything I speak
In everything I hear and seek

I belong nowhere
I am everywhere
Where ever my awareness is
That is my home.

Fairness Sham

I got published today. My article was featured in The Echo Of India newspaper, it is about how Indians are obsessed with being fair. Not only Indians but many Asians use "skin whitening" creams containing bleaching agents that are harmful for skin. The advertisement of these products are done in way that says having a fair skin is a confidence booster and can get you a stature in life that you cannot attain by being dark. I believe this is just another form of racism, not to mention the utter foolishness of this whole idea that you can change your skin colour by rubbing a cream on your face.

Click to enlarge

How far can we go to change our self and to look the way society think is beautiful? I am all for taking care of my appearance but not at the cost of losing myself in this sham.

The definition of beauty is different for all as David Hume says "Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them."  There will always be people whom you cannot please, but it is important to know you are beautiful inside out no matter what. 


There is more to beauty than what meets the eyes. 

Read the article here 

The Beach

To celebrate New Year me and my family went to the beach. The beach was apparently someone's private so we had to take permission, which we did.
I would have talked about our journey to the beach and the road, but there was no road. The place was clearly met for hiking or cycling and the lazy people that we are, we took cars. So after a lot of jumps and scares and prayers we reached the beach.

It was just breath-taking. My back ached with our little adventure ride but the fresh air worked like a pain-killer. The beach was beyond beautiful. And since we came early (not as early as we had planned) it was empty.

I was at the beach with my family, drinking coconut water and eating fried prawns, this is what Andaman is all about. For the first time in many days I realized I was born in an island, and what a beautiful island it is. I walked across the beach just where the cool salty water met the warm sand, there were also small pebbles and broken shells that would often come under my feet and break the silence in my mind.

My eyes and feet scanned for the smoothest part but after every few steps the waves would leap towards the shore and while going back it would leave little stones under my feet. 
No matter how much I avoided those clutters of pebbles and shells , they moved with the water and kept coming under my feet.

And that is life, silky shore with a few stones scattered, you never know which step will be on the sand and which will be on the stone. But I must never stop walking because each step forward makes me feel alive.

Picture taken by me. Click to Enlarge.

Oh and by the way.... Happy New Year to you, finally 2012! Let's hope it's nothing like the movie.