Inclined Chronicles of Indulgence

Navigating through life More often than not, I wish I could walk into the ocean and never return. The waves call me so dearly. They are high and low, soft and swift, blue and white, dark and beautiful. The ocean absorbs the world around it and makes it a part of its own tumult. Every time I tried to be a part of that magnificent piece of water, I was called back by dear ones. Their tearful, callous calls remind me how unaltered their lives will be without me. They fear they will lose me. What sort of fear is that, to be scared of losing something one never had in first place? I would look back, each time, with hopes in my eyes to see more; my ears would be more attentive every next time to hear something that I might have missed the last time. The words, the faces, the looks remain as if time didn't occur to them.  One can be comprehensive of strangers being cold and distant. But people you call your folks, too? May be the tropical country doesn't allow them to be any...

As entangled as Tangled Why do women wear western clothes? VS Let them wear what they want. Let'em wear they want to. VS How can they show their bra straps? What's about the exposing bra straps? VS Let her be without bra. No bra is outrageous. VS Where is her modesty? Take a deep breath. No woman has to explain herself to anyone (women and men) about her modesty, her choice of clothes. If anything is required to be addressed or talked about, it is just why men do not stop themselves about questioning and start accepting women as they are, at least about the physical and behavioural matters.  When you accept something, it is easy to understand it, because you will find yourself on the same side of the barrack. When you will be an insider or one of our own.  It is, honestly, annoying to find people questioning and retaliating in the name of curiosity.  Men. You are as diverse as women. Just that you have a lower threshold for accepting one of y...

Solitude You! Have you forgotten the germination lesson from primary science book? Have you not ever seen a seed germinating into a plant? It takes the utter destruction of the seed itself to produce the tiny seedling in it. The seed coats rupture, the seed leaves fall apart, and then the green peeps out. It does not stop there. The tiny seedling feeds on the seed itself to survive until the roots are strong enough to uphold the plant. In fact, it is the roots that break free first, and thereafter the green is visible.  To someone who does not understand reproduction, germination is absolute destruction.  Hence, let me break apart. Let me hit the ground and scatter around like a piece of glass. Let me be fragmented like I was never whole at all. I need to break till there is nothing left of me to be broken. that is when my scattered pieces will be collected to form a kaleidoscope. Till then, do not rescue me.  When I confess I am depressed, I am off...

"We accept the love we think we deserve." - Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower She asked: Why do we choose the wrong person?  Love is soul torturing, mind numbing, blood sucking, monstrous power, that either falls for you passionately and creates a diamond out of coal. Or, it simply crushes the coal into dust. Love! "Sometimes, people like to be there when you are weak; because that is the only time you are vulnerable. There is no other way a self-aware narcissist can win your heart. When the last tragedy happened, he was there all the time. He was the rock, the pillar. Sometimes he covered me up like the sky above. Sometimes he became my ground when I struggled where to put my feet. sometimes he became the only thing I could breathe in and it is not toxic.  He disappeared again. This time longer than the last. You learn when you are butt-kicked. And thank heavens the devil is gone for good.  My dead Venus was kissed by the Mars. T...

Coffee Date? The point of dating is to know a person beyond physique and later on, who is it that you are/will be 'sleeping with'. The current mass is so busy getting laid in their prime that when they come off their ages, they just don't know what to do! By the time one is done with meaningless sex, one has lost what it means to be physical with someone they can care about, connect to. Whereas sapiosexuals are in absolute need of 'connection', the fling dare-devils are all about 'chemistry'. Once that is achieved, one is happy to settle for casual sex, casual one night stands, casual live in, casual break ups.  Here comes the annoying part. People, who are sincere, are enraged about the 'casualty' going on around. Their sincere eyes looking for a sincere face dulls out eventually as the others have unsettled baggage, or just don't know what to do with that sincerity. End result: the former are disheartened to pursue any further, and th...

The awning - that is where her scattered thoughts are fading off to. May not be the awning exactly. It has been up there on her window since she lived there. It is the July rain, I think. She has a thing with rain, sort of a pact. When it rains, the woman in her speaks out. Not always in words, but more often in the tunes of guitar or candle light make ups. The pluviophile girl sets up to contemplate from life as biology to life as politics. When it drizzles, she turns into a girl  dressed in sunset yellow fit and flare dress with a transparent umbrella stretching out her hand carefully as not to wet herself more than just the palms. Hmm, it is clearly not the rain.  She turned off her laptop, switched off the tube-light, switched on the blue bed light and laid on the bed staring at the boring ceiling. Her empty mind was rattling like the Mumbai local. Thousands of thoughts are honking loud, making peace a difficult target. What is peace anyway? Is the urban lif...

Soulless life   Darr nahin lagti hai.  *          *           * Just a random thought penetrates into the mind; just like the unwelcomed dick in her vagina. It doesn't really hurt some months. But it is not the same flesh anymore; the scars of her battle in broad daylight sometimes, in the pinching darkness sometimes have left her to see the (w)hole from an unknown perspective. The vagina has healed, though virginity was never a question to her. She is walking around, eating out at restaurants, sipping coffee, visiting malls. But no more alone.  What did she do? Nazma was not rebellious. She did not use to wear shorts or mini skirts like me, neither her tops revealed her cleavage like mine. She obliged to the customary black-clad of the burqa, unquestioned. That is how her god wants the women to stay protected. We had one beautiful thing in common. We both loved black. We like how black j...