Fuck this

 Im fucking powerful if i put my mind to it. i am no more limiting myself to the needs and wants of other puny men. 

:)

Labels

What defines us? What we have or what we don't? What we are or what we aspire to be?

Is light the absence of darkness or is the dark devoid of light?

Are unanswered questions really questions? What elevates a sentence to a question? The fact that it has been asked, or the fact that someone out there is seeking an answer to it?
What about all those unasked questions... What about answers that are available but have no questions at all?

What is life and what is death? Physical, emotional or spiritual? Which defines absence of life or presence of death? How do we know that what we have, is life? What if it's death, but we have not defined it right?

Deserve

She was at crossroads.

All her life, she at least could talk to herself, she had herself on her team,even if the world wasn't.
She had that voice in her head that stood by her...

How was she supposed to live without herself? How was she supposed to steer life without a rudder? That voice in her head, that outspoken headstrong voice, that voice was no longer on her team. That voice was like a cold clammy grip that held her heart in a vice, that clawed out her heart and shred it to ribbons... What use of a fickle broken heart, without the voice to support it?

All through, she had vehemently demanded loyalty, she knew not how to defend her disloyalty. She placed a premium on truth and trust and betrayed it all, because of her silly stupid heart. A silly stupid broken heart. For when the time came to comfort her, the heart broke into a million pieces and pierced every inch of who she was, while the voice in her head stood over laughing.

She is a traitor who deserves every punishment ever.

Her heart deserves to be stomped over, broken twisted and killed. Kill the heart and hang the traitor.

Never again shall words like integrity and loyalty be spoken of, ever. For the voice in the head no longer belongs to her now. She is the enemy and needs to be destroyed.

I, need to be destroyed.

Random.

Why is it that this ONE thing has taken over my life? Everything else is good (?) right?

~~~~

Its all about needs. The minute the need is over, the transaction ends. Thats what happened here. Attaching any more meaning or emotion to it, is foolishness. Isnt it?

~~~~

Rationale and Logic, do not work when emotions are around. Thats what I hate about this. Austistic people are better off I say.

Fact and fiction

Fact is stranger than fiction. What was a figment of imagination, is now a part of life.

Did I dream it into happening? Did I foresee it?

Why doesn't it feel the way it should though?

Undeserved

Me 6 months ago, looks at current me and is disgusted.

I have let me down.

I'm sorry doesn't come close.

I need some sympathy and pity, for I don't deserve anything else.

Me 6 months ago asks of me now... How is it that I touch my child with these hands? How do I kiss her with that mouth?

I drown in guilt. Wish I was drowning in real.

Always hated death by drowning... Always been afraid of it... Now hoping to drown in acid and die.

Conundrums

I'm so much in a dilemma right now. I don't know what I am doing. Whom am I hurting? Why am I doing what I am?

It easy to give things a label, but the fact is, what I'm doing doesn't even deserve a label. Even the most clichéd label doesn't come close to what this is.

I felt so guilty and dirty after doing what I did. Am I so weak, that I have ignored all the warning bells in my head? Of course I'm that weak. I wouldn't have let things go that far otherwise.

Even single value is getting broken, my pride is in smithereens... Loyalty, integrity, responsibility, commitment, trust truth, morality... Nothing has been left untainted. Even things that shouldn't matter - habits, behavior, caste... Everything has been murdered. Everything is either dead or dying.

All this, even when you said that what you feel has shaken, that we have different value systems.

It makes me sick to my stomach about what I did, despite which, I know I will continue to do it.

I can't think, but I can't not think. What have I gotten into!!

When you are around

The mundane-ness of life is reduced when you are around, there is a certain color in the air, when you are around.
Is it beauty, is it love, or is it just companionship, I know not, but the my whole world is exhilarated when you are around.

The ennui of life, comes down, even if it is, for a little, the gray turns into reds and pinks, the drab into the interesting, and the uninspiring grow up to be muses for poetry.

The greens are more vibrant, the blues a little more blue and the rainbow has more than just the 7 colors, when you are around.

New year it seems

Fuckall, is what it is, I tell you. People drinking and dancing and acting foolish is what it is. It is times. Like this that I truly regret not being deaf blind and mute. Ugh.

Shut up and go I say.

Stranger 7

She woke up before the house did, before the sun rose. She brought in the packets of milk that the sleepy milkman had delivered, heated it up, and left it out to cool. Polished the child's shoes, and those of her husbands. Laid out their clothes, filled up the water bottles; Worked on the mise en place for the day's meals; it was chilly outside, full of smog, but beads of sweat were beginning to form on her forehead as she bent on the stoves stirring the gravy. One glance at the clock told her she had barely enough time to run the water and wake up her child; and disregarding the stabbing pain of her plantar fasicitis, she ran upstairs; bathed and clothed the child and in the midst of helping the cook prepare breakfast and packing the lunches. Finally, with both out of the door, she sat down with her cup of tea - the first thing she would have, in the 2.5 hours that she had been awake for, and opened her laptop to check her schedule.

With a sigh she noted that her calls began in the next 15 mins, and would barely give her enough time to bathe before she left for work. She would have to skip breakfast again.

She reached work, with a growling stomach to which she could not pay attention; for it needed to be diverted to the interviews that the HR team had lined up for her. Fire drills, close calls, meetings, improvement programs and deadlines - all in a days job. It was 8 PM, and she was yet to have her breakfast. The cup of tea had curdled in her stomach long ago and was making her nauseous and light headed. The last meal she'd had was her brunch the previous day.

Calls from the nanny informing that the child was being difficult, told her it was time to head home and get the child to study and eat dinner. It was already 11 by the time she could wade through the traffic and reach home, 2 pairs of accusing eyes looked back at her to say that she was late again, and wasnt a good enough mother. She had resigned to being inadequate now. It was as though nothing she did was ever good enough or satisfactory even.
Asking the child about its day, she cleaned up the slew of toys and food spread out in the room. Put all the books back into the school bag; sharpened all the pencils searched every nook and cranny for the eraser. Put the basket out for the milk man, cleaned the kitchen, realised that there wasnt anything to eat, to popped a hershey's kiss into her mouth just to allow her stomach the illusion of food; ironed the clothes needed for the next day, put in the laundry; got back the clothes hung out to dry, folded them up; and finally crawled into bed, having no more energy to even remove her makeup or change her clothes.

"how lazy can you be, how can you sleep in the clothes that you wore to work" grumbled the husband, but she was too far gone to even hear it.

One would think, she had her hands and her mind full. That she had no more space for anything or anyone else. She, though was hollow inside; she had left a piece of herself half way across the world.

She missed what she once thought never existed. She was now made aware of something she had striven so hard to suppress, that she had begun believing that it never existed - and that something was her. The fact that she existed independent of relationships, of responsibilities, of expectations, of "should be"s and "ought to"s was a fact that was long forgotten, that she was now aware of; and hence the hollowness; rather, the the awareness that she was hollow inside.

And, there, in the middle of the night, among all the other work emails that kept flooding her phone, was a tiny 2 word message that filled that hollow.

- - - - - - - - 

Stranger 6

She stood there, undecided, confused, fingering the mangal-sutra that hung around her neck; clutching the phone in the other - debating the morals and rights and wrongs of what was going on in her head; when suddenly the doors of the elevator opened up; scaring her, freezing her, instilling a sense of terror and euphoria in her.

Her entire life up until that point in time was planned, was meticulous. Everything that had been done, was after careful consideration for the people around her, and for the people around her.

The moment the doors opened, was the moment that life as she knew it, had ended.  All her decisions, her contemplation thrown to wind as he stepped out to gather her in his arms. In one fluid moment, she was in his arms and he was kissing her.
A part of her brain telling her that this was wrong, that she was a married woman, that no matter what the culture, it was always frowned upon. That he was a married man, and she would be the despised "other woman" if she allowed this to continue. That he was from half way around the world, and that she was a traditional orthodox south indian brahmin who was married happily (?) and was responsible for people back home.

That part of the brain was annihilated when he held her closer and his tongue began its onslaught in her mouth. His kisses were raw, full of need and want, demanding and dominating, bruising even. It was as if he was holding on to his dear life as he kissed her.

In the middle of a hotel lobby, in full view of people around them, in a foreign country - that is when it began. The story that was destined to stop as abruptly as it had begun. A story that had no beginning or end. All that there was, was this. This moment. this kiss and this passion. No one had any more control on anyone else, except to hold on to each other and let the passion wash over them.

Hate and Incompatibility

It isn't fair.

Two unlike people should not live together. People who have nothing in common, people who hate each others guts, people who are not even compatible sexually, people who bring out the worst in each other - should not live together.

Why are they living together then? what forces them to? her insecurity? his insecurity? the child they made together?  what forces them to stay together despite not having anything in common? why cant they just let go - for in their minds, they already have.

The chasm couldnt be more deeper than the deepest end of the ocean despite living in a small 1200 sqft house.

She hated her lack of balls to walk out. She hated whatever it was that held her back from getting what she wanted. She hated herself.

I..... hate myself.

Expectations

Let down. By everyone she knew. By herself too.

Stranger (5)

Memories float up in that moment between wakefulness and sleep. Just as the mind lowers its defenses... The demons in the recesses come to the fore.

This time it is an elusive tune, in a voice that has been long thrown into the labyrinthine spaces of the abyss that resides in the cold dark corner of the heart.
The mind though... Is relentless. It now embarks on a journey to identify the song, for it cannot rest until it has all the answers.

Finally the lyrics and the tune ... And the only image that floods the mind and the heart is his. an uncomfortable and unenviable range of emotions flow through making sleep impossible and she lies awake thinking how would it be... The night is filled with what ifs and sighs and soft slow sobs.

She lies awake imagining him with his wife, and a knife plunges itself into her heart, almost as if enjoying the pain, she thinks of them smiling, kissing and ..... and the knife starts its twist slowly into her heart, drawing blood that flow out as tears from her eyes. The tune, the lyrics, they haunt her mind like they are hornets stinging her very soul. "it should have been me" she thinks, "i should be with him, in his arms..." she sobs into her pillow wordlessly, lest she wake the man next to her.

as she tosses and turns, she feels two hands creeping up her spine, a sudden feeling of unwant and disgust also slide up along with those hands, she doesn't want this today, usually she would have tolerated the ordeal with gritted teeth, but today... today was different. she tried warding off the hands, but it would not be, the hands were just too strong for her. the hands would get what they wanted, as they gruffly held her nipples and squeezed them painfully. a grunt, and her underpants were torn in one tug she grit her teeth, closed her eyes shut and lay still allowing the hands to maul her. teeth sank into her shoulder almost drawing blood, nails scratched her cheeks, and a couple of rough movements later, her bruised vagina felt him retreat.

It just added to her sense of shame and humiliation, and the warm tears stung the scratches at her cheek.

The phone rang. she tried to ignore it, but the hands next to her shoved the phone into her face, so there was no alternative left but to answer it. 

the light of the cell phone showed up his number.... 

Silence 

as she picked the call

Silence 

as her pain screamed

Silence 

as her joy sang

Silence 

as he breathed in and out

Silence 

as she bit her lip

Silence

as he rubbed his stubble

Silence 

and some more

Silence

not just silence.

It was Silence.

The beep of the phone going dead in her hands.

Silence, spoke volumes.

And, now the tears that flowed were of Silence.

It wasnt love

It wasnt love

It wasnt love

It wasnt .....

It ..... love

It was

It

love

Silence

love

Silence

It wasnt love

It  wasnt silence

It was Silence

And they both smiled as sleep took over.

For, it was Silence.

It wasnt love

It was Silence.

(tried using the beginning of another post to link to this, strange how fiction and fact meet at times)

Nothing

the reality of life has taken away the imagination of the mind.
rigmarole has robbed me of words, mundane of thought and ennui of musing.

Had once read somewhere that great tragedy gives rise to the greatest works of art. The greatest tragedy though, is to have NO tragedy, and being robbed of making those great works of art.

Memories float up in that moment between wakefulness and sleep. Just as the mind lowers its defences... The demons in the recesses come to the fore.

This time it is an elusive tune, in a voice that has been long thrown into the labyrinthine spaces of the abyss that resides in the cold dark corner of the heart.
The mind though... Is relentless. It now embarks on a journey to identify the song, for it cannot rest until it has all the answers.

Finally the lyrics and the tune ... And the only image that floods the mind and the heart is his.an uncomfortable and unenviable range of emotions flow through making sleep impossible and she lies awake thinking how would it be... The night is filled with what ifs and sighs and soft slow sobs.

Momentary (or is it)

Defeated crushed and humiliated. Feeling betrayed while making others feel they have been betrayed.
Suicidal too.
Too cowardly to commit the act. Waiting for an act of 'god'.

Relief

I think he would be relieved if anything happened to me. Thank god if I died and jump in joy at the thought of losing me.

How do you wind up with someone as this to be the one person you are destined to lead your life with?

Taboo (1)

Since when did religion become a taboo subject? Especially my religion. The sanatana dharma. Hinduism if you like it that way. My country is and has always been largely populated by people who choose sanatana dharma. So since when did bad mouthing this way of life become the 'in' thing?

I know. I'm an atheist. Most people look at atheism as rejecting everything that has to do with the word 'god'. Religion. They believe is THE biggest thing associated with God.

One could not be farther from truth. I am an atheist. On some unfortunate days, I am an agnostic at best..... but every single day.... I follow the sanatana dharma. The oldest and the most mature compilation of leading ones life. I am a PROUD Hindu.

While I could talk about how religion and god and atheism are separate till the cows come home.... I choose to for now postpone that discussion for later.

My religion accords me the freedom to be an atheist. My walk of life doesn't threaten me with eternal damnation or promise me a certain number of nubile virgins in the afterlife.
Instead.... It tells me stories. Fairytales and grim bloody gory stories. Each charecter object or quest standing in for a metaphor. Stories about the black and the white and the grey. Stories that end differently in each retelling. Stories that have a different hero when looked at differently. Stories that lay down and at the same time give you the freedom to question,pick and choose the ways to lead life.

Such is my religion. All embracing. All loving. All tolerating and above all.... open to change.

A million deities exist. Because this religion is about charecter than the nomenclature. It is about the deed and not the doer. It is about respect accorded to every living and non living objects. It is about gratitude towards those who helped in times of need.

Hence a cow, a tree, a horse, a motorcycle even .... is accorded the elevated status of a diety alongside the others.

This religion is all encompassing. One cannot convert into this religion.... and this is because the sanatana dharma is not a club that preaches exclusivity. One is a Hindu merely by following 'dharma'- Righteousness.
Empathy tolerance peace justice equality generosity hardwork honesty trust and love are the hallmarks of this religion. Anyone can be a Hindu.  Nowhere does it talk about 'spreading the word' and nowhere are we required to call the others who tread a different path as 'infidels'.

I have had people argue with me about superstitions. I have had people tell me about godmen. I have had to listen about lame traditions. And the biggest of all.... treatment of women and the caste system.

With them. I do not bother. They bring me down to their level and beat me with their foolishness.

To argue that superstitions and religion are two Venn diagrams that have nothing in common, or to say that cheats and charlatans owe their success to gullible people than to religion or to tell people that interpretation of texts and the texts themselves are two different things or to say that "janmane jaatah shudrah" is what our ancient stories tell us.... is immaturity.
Commenting on one of the world's oldest and most mature relationships is not an easy task.
Especially when confronted with 'secular' people who believe the word secular implies demeaning ones own religion.

Am I an advocate for hinduism? Am I a fanatic? Am I a right wing fundamentalist?
I don't think I am.
A religion as huge as hinduism doesn't need an advocate carrying placards on the roads. It doesn't need someone to kill and maim in its name.

What I do want, is the right for me to be offended when someone speaks ill. What I do want is the right to tell such people to actually understand the metaphors on the stories or better still read the stories first... before they denounce and decry my religion.

What I do want is freedom for me to be able to teach my next generation about my religion and not have them be frowned upon for knowing a 'dead' language or for giving way to a cow on the road while uttering thanks to the species for sustaining us. It might seem silly to you but my kids will grow up being far more respectful of the environment the world and everything in it than you or your kids ever hope to be.
And my religion taught me that.

Ab jo kiye ho daata. ... aisa na kijo.
Agale janam mohe bitiya na kijo....
Ab jo kiye ho daata.