Words

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#9/11

By Saru Singhal - September 11, 2015

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To the man who gave me neither his body nor his love

By Saru Singhal - April 30, 2019

I slipped back into my lingerie, But I couldn’t feel your touch. Devoid of any pleasure, I still loved you very much.
The cocoon I lived in, Stunted my growth and flight. I was living in a well-lit bungalow, But my happiness never saw any daylight.
There were days I was absolutely naked, Still, why didn’t they see my scars? I bet they got blinded, By sparkly diamonds and swanky cars.
I smiled all the time, I cracked the best of jokes. I camouflaged pain so meticulously, No one noticed the embers behind the smoke.
I burned, I turned into a heap of ash. I sprayed Chanel No. 5, Though I was treated like a can of trash.
You knew what wrong you did, Still, you never apologized. All I was a glorified maid, I now realize.
Neither your body nor your love, Nothing was ever mine. Yet I treated a dead relation, Like a holy shrine.
I’m glad you gave me nothing, Neither on the bed or otherwise. I’m gasping for sanity now, I’d have drowned in the sea of your lies.
You took away my youth, My innocence, my peace. You left so many dem…

Wish you were only a cold-heartless f*ck

By Saru Singhal - May 28, 2019

I try not to think about you. I genuinely do. It's when I enter my empty bedroom at 7 in the evening - when I see a couple in the lift - when I stop at the traffic lights and notice the girl embracing her boyfriend on the bike - a fleeting thought of your absence comes to my mind. But the taste of betrayal is so bitter, love doesn't sound sweet anymore. The loneliness in my bones makes my spine short. I feel dwarfed in a room full of couples. I'm 5 feet 10 inches though.

Don't get me wrong, I'm way past our breakup. I don't crave the wetness of your lips after I put the empty glass down on the table on a Saturday night. My fingers don't itch to feel the depth of your cleavage. The heat of desires dies the moment I recall the coldness of your unapologetic face. It feels like freaking Antartica - and - I feel like standing on a glacier stripped of my innocence - sinking in the ocean of your lies. I gasp for sanity. It's cold, brutal and emotionally I'm…

Loving you was not a mistake, it was a bloody sin

By Saru Singhal - June 05, 2019

It was a cold November afternoon. I sat on the floor. With my knees pressed against my breast, arms around my legs, I wept inconsolably. There was no one in the house. I was alone. But I wish you were there. I wish you could see your only accomplishment. Your only legacy -- you ruined someone's life beyond repair. I hugged myself tighter and closed my eyes so tight to squeeze out every last drop tear out of my body.
It was the last day I thought of you as a man. You know why -- it was the last day I doubted myself as a woman.
It's June now, it's cold here in Toronto. Today, months later, I felt like sitting on the cold floor and crying to ease my pain. I did that. I sat on the chair, looked at the steady pile of setbacks, one failure after another, tears rolled down my cheeks. My every effort to build my life comes crashing down week after week. But now, I don't wipe my tears off. You know why -- I don't wear mascara any longer. You not only ruined my life. You to…

Here's what I learned in 7 years of blogging

By Saru Singhal - June 18, 2018

7 years ago I started my blog. And I entered the magical world of writing. I was living in the Boston suburbs. After finishing my work and household chores, I still had some spare time. I remember the exact moment I clicked the 'B' icon on Google and I created a Blogger account. I knew only two Bloggers that time - Amitabh Bachchan and Lisa Ray. I had no idea what it takes to be an accomplished blogger, but I was excited to be a part of a community which is independent and expresses its views without any inhibition. I must say, it has been an amazing journey only because I have learned so much.

I started by writing poetry, then I started writing articles and now I can write anything. Professionally, I am a content writer for a couple of websites. I ghostwrite for two more agencies based out of North America. I write sponsored articles on my blog. I tweet, post Facebook statutes, answer Quora questions, and mention brands on Instagram for money. Brands even consult me for social…

Of Wild Sex, Poetry, And Man I Call My Ocean

By Saru Singhal - January 14, 2019

Those half-stoned eyes, Rough hands feeling up my breast. Your breath stinking of cheap liquor, I should have left.
Man, why did I stay? There must be some spell on me. I was a ruin myself, Searching for love in debris.
That cheap motel was not comforting either, Nor was the sheet smooth. I even felt bumps on the mattress, When our bodies rhythmically moved.
You rested your head on my stomach later, Asked me to read a poem for you. You are a man with 20 dollar jeans, Who calls quickie a rendezvous.
I don't know who should I blame? But it is more than lust. You listen to my worthless poetry, And I'm the only woman you trust.
Don't read too much between lines, you say, Don't call us broken. I'm the river which flows into you, And you are my ocean.
Man, why shouldn't I stay? You fill up the emptiness in me. With you, I'm a scintillating mess, With you, I'm free.
*Poetic expression after watching Elle. French movies can do this to you.

Savera by Anusha Mani - A Song that is Poetry in Every Sense of the Word

By Saru Singhal - February 18, 2019

I rekindled my love for music in October. I'm an insomanic and music is the best company at 2 in the night. I'm alone, heartbroken and at crossroads in life - now imagine the intensity with which I listen to it. But let me brag first - I listen to music with the kind of sincerity and devotion that may surprise you - and I'm very proud of it.
If you will give me a song, I will give you an exact scenario which suits it. No, I don't do - this is a shower song, this is a long-drive song thing - that's amateurish. I do - this is a song I would listen when I'm back from a date, removing my makeup, getting ready for the shower, and humming it like an anthem. Believe me, this is the simplest of scenarios I'm presenting here. My descriptions become more vivid, dirtier and fun. Those who have heard my descriptions would smile if they are reading this post. But this post is not about that. This post is about a song which is poetry in every sense of the word.
I'm tal…

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Soundarya Sabun Nirma

By Saru Singhal - January 11, 2016

It was a ruthless day when I discovered my real identity. As a teenager, I struggled through hot girls, rich girls, and famous-for-nothing girls. I often felt like a lost puppy in the crowd of bitches. Amidst the ting-tong of Doordarshan commercial, finally, one day I found answers to all my questions. My ray of enlightenment was none other than - Nirma Soap Ad.

This karmic journey started the day my cousin infused the thought that a soap defines you. He bathed with Dettol as he was a cleanliness freak. And I should choose a soap that fits my character. When I gleefully jumped at being Liril Girl, he looked with disdain. With one hand he pointed at Preity Zinta’s poster and with other towards the mirror. I nodded. I had no dimples or shorts to be that cool. Even the bottom of my skirt was triple folded to adjust my growing height and our middle-class income. On that day of summer vacation, my arduous journey began. If there is a soap that my fits my short-rounded-desperate frame, I sho…

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The Truth Is Brave People Are Often Broken

By Saru Singhal - March 31, 2019

When I say life is beautiful - I don't say as some philosophical statement. Currently, I have all the conceivable problems one can think of - I have court cases, I have a medical condition for which I need major surgery and I've been delaying it for 8 years now, I have no job, no roof which I can call my own, I have standing expenses of $500 which are totally unproductive but I have to do it, and the worst, I have so many unresolved issues in my head. But still, life is beautiful.
When I say you're responsible for your life - I don't say it to give some random motivational speech. I mean it. Take it from a woman who after a phone call from her in-laws has gone to the market alone to buy shroud to wrap her husband's body - the kind of strength and peace of mind you get after fulfilling your duties empowers you from within. If you can do things for others, imagine the joy of doing things for yourself. Before someone asks where are my family and friends? It's not t…

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