Words

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By Saru Singhal - November 20, 2017

For more hashtag stories, stalk me on - Facebook, Twitter and Instagram

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Anita SinghNovember 24, 2017 at 4:11 AM
👍👍
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vishal bheerooNovember 26, 2017 at 8:43 AM
Woah! Superb and churned like milky ocean of love :)
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He is heaven I can go to hell for

By Saru Singhal - June 19, 2019

I unzipped my dress. It fell on the floor revealing my breast with peaked desire. 'Take me to the bed,' I whispered. My inaudible words were clear enough for him to get up from the couch and lift me. I sunk my face into his chest. I heard loud thumpings. Was it my heart beating or his - I'm not sure. I'm not sure of very many things about that evening - I was in a trance - I was f****g high on him.
There are a few things I do remember, though.
I remember, he tucked my hair behind my ear before running the tip of his tongue between my lips and diving into my mouth. Havoc followed next. I won't call it hungry passion - it's just too lame. It was an aggressive tug-of-war. Most of the times, he was winning. For the rest, he let me. Damn, he was a gentleman!
I remember looking into his eyes, placing my hand on his stubble and for that brief moment, there was enough fire in our eyes to burn the city down. Did we burn the city down? No. But the heat in that room led us t…

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…

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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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…

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Proceed With Caution: She May Appear Sweet Par Ladki Bomb Hai

By Saru Singhal - July 07, 2019

A guy messaged me.
I don't judge people. I talk to them politely. So very-very politely but not-so-humbly I replied this.
"Hey G****t,
First, see how I started by mentioning your name - it adds a personal touch and assures the reader the message is not a copy-paste.
Second, you don’t follow me or have interacted with me ever. When you will actually like a girl, invest your time in her. It’s very gentlemanly to do that. In millennial lingo, it’s about making a smooth entry.
Third, I truly appreciate your wordplay in the second paragraph. It has a personal touch. I presume from your bio that you are studying law, I’d suggest purely as someone who has studied law and is also a writer, use this skill to be a good lawyer.
Fourth, if this is a case of copy-paste to many girls, my message may hurt your ego or you would smirk at the fact that I replied back. Know I use every single piece of my writing to get a job. This would also help. So thank you.
Lastly, if you are genuinely interested…

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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…

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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.

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You are my Desi Tharra

By Saru Singhal - December 24, 2018

My Blue Label drinking friends would say I've sold my soul to Desi Tharra. I have. I admit I've gone rustic. I want to taste that cheap alcohol. That 70-rupee bottle. I want it to hit me instantly. I don't want a tipsy evening. I want a drunk evening. High on cheap liquor and you.

Then let's get cozy. I'll read you a chapter from my unfinished book under my favorite flannel blanket. Hug me from my waist. Smell the patchouli on my neck. Lend me your ear. I promise I'll bare my soul. Listen, as no man has ever listened to me. Because every word I write has meaning. Breathe softly into my ears as I open myself to you.

Note where my words are harsh - someone must have stabbed me there - know my words are bleeding in response. Pay attention to the soft words - someone must have stirred my soul - know my words are humming a Coke Studio Pakistan song there. In case you feel my words are too intense at some point. Don't ask. Know it's you. You must have said s…

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