Words

A few good, bad and ugly things I wrote this February. Date Content 02/02/2020 We are all teacups - fragile and designed to hold warmth inside. 02/03/2020 अंधेरे में तो परछाईं भी साथ छोड़ देती है  और हम लोगों से उम्मीद लगाए बैठे हैं Andhere mein toh parchhai bhi saath chhod deti hai Aur hum logon se umeed lagaye baithe hain 02/03/2020 कोई ले जाए डॉक्टर को दिखाए जरा भी सुनता नहीं मेरी  इस दिल के कान ख़राब है 02/03/2020 Even if you pour gasoline and burn them alive - memories will still reek of you. 02/03/2020 The intimacy we share in long pauses can put sex to shame. 02/04/2020 तेरे बाद भी जो रहेगा पूरा  बस ऐसा इश्क़ करने की गुस्ताख़ी की है मैंने Tere baad bhi jo rahega pura Bas aisa ishq karne ki gustakhi ki hai maine 02/05/2020 जहाँ बिकते है रद्दी के भाव जज़्बात  उसी बाज़ार से लाया था वो अपना दो टके का प्यार Jahan bikte hai raddi ke bhav jazbaat Usi bazaar se laya tha woh apna do takkay ka pyaar ...

Sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs in a crowded place out of sheer loneliness. And sink on the concrete floor with my head tucked between my knees. I want someone to look into my empty eyes and read my story. Then comfort me with a hug. But I stand quietly in the corner of this posh restaurant smiling politely at the couples walking into it with their fingers interlocked. They wait for their table. I wait for mine. In the meantime, I stand there alone, a thousand thoughts run a marathon inside my tiny head. What have I done to deserve it -- is one such thought. Sometimes I talk to others. Those who appear to have it all. After 15 minutes of easing into the conversation, I find they are no less miserable. If I'm a Siberian desert - cold and barren, they are Sahara - few people come to visit them - a very few walk with them under the scorching circumstances. Deep down, we are all lonely. Terribly lonely. We all seek one person with whom we can share that ...

I've mild OCD. I have an inherent desire to store, stack and organize my stuff. Having said that, I do lose track of many things. This year, I started organising my writing date-wise. I just need to know that I practise nearly every day to hone my craft. So here's what I wrote in January 2020. Date Published नमक के व्यापारी निकले दोस्त मेरे  मुट्ठी दो मुट्ठी मेरे ज़ख्मों पे छिड़क जाते हैं Namak ke vyapaari nikle dost mere Mutthee do mutthee mere zakhmo pe chidak jaate hain इतने हसीन हो आप  मेरा दिल ही नहीं मौसम भी आहें भरता है छोटे-बड़े की बात न करें  छोटी सी चिंगारी भी बहुत बड़ी आग लगा सकती है Chhote-bade ki baat na karein Chhoti si chingari bhi bahut badi aag laga sakti hai 01/09/2020 मन मेरा सफ़ेद चादर तुम हल्दी वाला दाग इतनी आसानी से उतरोगे नहीं 01/10/2020 A pure heart and a dirty mind - that’s what heaven must look like. 01/10/2020 ये तो हौंसलों की चमक है  कि हफ्ते दर हफ्ते वो हसीन होती गई 01/13/2020 Even th...

I want to take you to my bed. Put on my favourite music. Dim the recessed lights. Light a musk-scented candle to intensify the romance. Move my fingers up and down - to create a symphony with your sculpted, sleek and toned frame. In a dimly-lit room, won't you look sexy as f**k? Some people often call you a classic poem. If I may, please be my sonnet. Structured, layered and class apart. And let me undress you one layer at a time. Let me write a better version of you on my 700-thread-count bedsheet. I promise you, it will be a night to remember. But let me tell you, you are one poem whose place is inside my body, not on a piece of paper. You are a poem that would rhyme well mixed with the curves of my body - meter, metaphors, similes be damned. So just play along. No questions asked. Let me embrace you. Let me hold you between my freshly manicured hands - creating a devasting blast of seduction. To have you inside me would be a nuclear explosion - a chain reaction that sh...

'Let's f**k on the dining table and eat dinner on the bed tonight,' I said between sips. 'She is gonna make me an offer I can't refuse,' you said while swirling ice cubes in your glass. 'Are we quoting Godfather now?' I replied in my clever, sarcastic tone. You smiled still looking at your glass, not at me. The lady in me took offence. But I'm too proud to beg for attention. I don't beg, I command attention. I caressed my wounded ego with those words. 'It would be nice to have a man run his tongue from my neck to cleavage and spend good 15-20 minutes there. I yearn for that kind of wetness on my boobs,' I buttoned up my coat pretending it suddenly became cold. As if the mercury dipped below freezing while I was setting the mood on fire. You looked at me. 'And he looks into my eyes when he is f*****g me,' I finished my sentence and sat straight crossing my ankles in perfect Duchess Slant. You looked into my eyes. You...

Men have a weird obsession with boobs. I get that. I even laughed out loud at a party in New York when a drunk friend being called out for objectifying women said - and I quote his exact words - 'We don't want to hear any word against boobs. Woh hamara passion hain.' He was sincere to the level that if there was a club of people extending their solidarity to boobs - he univocally and unanimously be the president. Cut 2 to a couple of weeks back. I was at a meeting. The girl I was interviewing had no clue of the work she was supposed to do. She was hot and she might have used her body to get things done or undone. But I'm a thorough professional and a girl who only gets "cute" as a compliment, I was adamant on grilling her. In my desi head, I was like - Achha tu hot hai, behan chal ab khelte hai rapid fire. One question after another, I roasted her. But 15 minutes later, things got awkward. She started stripping. She threw her hair back revealing her s...

Let me begin by saying - I understand human relationships are complex. I also understand one-night stands, flings, excitement those flings bring, sexual desires, desire to be wanted by men other than your own husband. What I don't understand - why you had no respect for me? Why you demeaned me, mocked my looks, made remarks about my intelligence? And why you chose to do all that for not one day but for years? Even when I was going through one miscarriage after another. Now let me tell you how your actions ruined one woman's life beyond repair. When you did all that my husband came home and repeated the same words and actions to deal with his own guilt. He objectified me - he inserted in me when you were not available. He mocked my looks - his exact words - I look like a chimpanzee when I wear a bright-coloured lipstick. You know, I can't look at any man now. He insulted my intelligence. He said I was good enough only to bag groceries at a supermarket. The list of in...