It wasn’t only me who you raped.

It wasn’t only me who you raped.

It was your mother’s caring touch that you exterminated,
Its was her drape of aristocracy that you tore apart,
It was her womb that you have blemished forever,
It was your mother’s cry for death.

It wasn’t only me who you raped.

You raped your sister walking on the road.
You ripped the smile that made your world complete.
You profaned her heart of sanity,
You breached your rakhi vows.

It wasn’t only me who you raped.

You raped your father’s trust, and his standing as a man,
You slit his dreams of rubbing his shoulders with you,
You made him question the steps he taught you,
You are a son, whom he will never want.

It wasn’t only me who you raped.

You raped your friends of innocence,
You razed their trusts to ground,
You are a memory that will never be spoken of,
You are a wretch that will never be pardoned.

It wasn’t only me who you raped.

You played with my body,
But you annihilated your soul forever,
I will begin a life, for I am not at fault,
But as lonely as you are,
You never find solace anywhere.

You are a father, to whom no child will ever want to be born,
You are a man whose wife would never be safe,
You will be a son, that no mother will call her own,
Your sister may never trust you with her honor.


You are God’s shame, And you thought I lost it all,
It may be one night for me,
But it hover over you for entire life,
You are dead, yet alive,

Coz it just wasn’t only me who you raped.

RELEASED ---- FROM LOVE TO LOVE

She lit the cigarette…her fourth in about two hours. She only smoked because she knew it hurt him, basically, it was the only thing he seemed to react to. A tear traced its journey from the end of her eye as she took a deep puff inside; she’d grown immune to the taste, bitter as it was, yet she relished it, for she knew the smell made him take notice of her.

‘Notice of me’; she shook her head. What was it she wanted from a relationship? Were the movies reflecting there charismatic sets in her desires? Is it so bad to ask for love? Another puff. Her relationships have always gone haywire, what is it that she’s looking for? She expected words of love, yes she did; she also wanted some time alone with him, she wanted him to tell her how he felt about her, all those things that she’d read and seen and heard. Was it too much to ask for? As she burst crying, she took a deep puff, letting the smoke in the air accompanied with bouts of cough. Why do people do not feel the need to tell each other that they cared and loved after a while? And when does everything and everyone becomes taken for granted? Was she trying too hard, or was he finding a way out?

Way out? The words echoed in her mind, being louder than her cough bouts. What did they say about committing oneself to love and all that concerned with it? What a fool she has been, she cursed herself aloud…No , these stupid commitments are not forever, they are used only as an additional measure to make one loose stupid minds to their hearts, and everything starts looking different. Or maybe it simply puts to rest all mushy mushy things, signaling that we are on a serious tread, we will be together all our lives, we share a house and a bed, and that’s all. Who has the time to make you feel loved everyday? You are loved, once said, must last a life time. Then why can’t she be like him? Why is she restless? Why does she kiss him every morning she wakes up, while he seems to dwell away in his sleep? Why does she unfailingly wait for him in the bedroom so that he would make her sleep in his arms, when she knows his preference is the television? Why does a feeling of hurt crosses her mind when she sees a couple hand in hand on the streets, when she couldn’t remember when did they last walked a few miles purposelessly? Why did her friends open love notes for each other fill her mind with exasperation? NO, he doesn’t need a wayout, SHE DID.

She pressed the cigarette butt on the ash tray, wiped her tears and dashed towards the mirror. The kajal seemed to be everywhere except her eyes, her face looked red and bleak, her eyes radiated loneliness and she was clearly a failed example. No, this can’t be, she thought to herself, I love him the way I do, and am not dependent on his love, but on mine. They are gonna be together, only that she wouldn’t be pressing him notice, she would herself make her unnoticeable to him, for she’d immerse in world that she will create for himself, where he needn’t be there in person, but only as her thoughts. She’d still kiss him mornings, yet not expect to be kissed back. She’d do everything for him that she will feel right, yet never blink an eye when he’d suggest otherwise.

A nice hot shower released her body from the pain. She’d not cried anymore. She threw the pack of cigarettes in the dustbin, and simply got on with her official assignment.


**** After dinner, she wished him good night and went to bed. He probably expected her to call upon, she didn’t. She finished her read, and slept peacefully, knowing he will be by her side when she wakes up the next morning. ****


She’d released herself in letting him go.
She’d freed herself from the expectations she had from him

.


It wasn’t easy, she still gets desperate sometimes, but then she hasn’t lost her love, it keeps her going – with or without him.

I became Strong, when you set me Free.
And I became even Stronger;
When I LET you GO.

The SAD FIRST Time...

‘Naah’, she said to herself after trying the sleeveless pink top. She looked too ‘babyish’ in it, and she’d heard from her friends that she looks like a kiddo with pink-on. ‘Skip that’, and she tried on the red, waist length, just above her navel, and just deep enough to show her cleavage in an interesting way. Well, she did look hot, she smiled at herself in the mirror. She did her eyes smoky black, wore a lustrous gloss, and tinted her cheeks a bit red. Her fair skin had responded well to the red black color combination; her hair were open, just the way he liked them. He? Well her boyfriend for two years now, and it was his birthday today, the eighteenth birthday. That explains the dress, and all that make-up? Well, yes it does, most of the part, except that she’d do promised him that on this day, both of them will loose their virginity to each other. And, they’d planned it tonight, after the treats were done, in the park behind her hostel, beneath a widely spread shadow of trees.

She cast a long, lasting look at herself in the mirror, admiring her, and wondering how he would react on seeing her. She was slim, and on many occasions she’d felt that her frame fit perfectly into his arms, and when he’d whispered “ Ria, I feel like tasting every inch of you ‘, in her ears one night during an intimate scene a movie they’d gone to see together, she’d imagine every bit of her naked flesh being tasted by him. She’d wanted to tell him so, but she remained calm, and soon after, when he asked her how did she plan her birthday, she revealed how she wanted to live that line he’d said that day.

At precisely quarter to nine, she stepped out of her room, all perfumed, and in high spirits. She waited for him at the back gate, and smsed her friend, where he was to drop her after the act; that she’d left the hostel, and will call her once they are done. Her friend replied with, ‘hump his brains out, all the best for the first time...Yipeee!!’, encouraging her more.

Exactly 5 minutes later, he arrived at the gate. Moonlight, reds, passion and a glimpse of cleavage, made a deadly combination for him. He held her hand, she smiled, they both seemed so sure of themselves, lost in the world of fantasies and unknown ecstasies oh physical contacts, that even the 10 minutes walk getting to the decided ‘spot’ seemed like a million years walk. ‘Hey, did you get that’, she whispered. ‘What? The condoms?? Oh yes, I have, and Kunal has even told me how to go about it,’ he winked at her. The night seemed perfect, she’d dreamt her man making love to her on a clear, starlit night, with only the moon as the light on her body. ‘Perfect, I love you’, she told him, just as he pressed his lips on her bare shoulder. They looked for a soft spot in the lights of their cellphones, and before they could settle for one, she felt his hands running up her waist. A hundred butterflies cropped in her stomach, she felt her eyes close as he undid those buttons......

‘Kaun hai wahan?’
Arey kaun hai wahan?

The watchman, obviously, way older than both of them, took no more than a few seconds to judge where this was going.

He got up, being the man, and it took the watchman a gentle hit or two on his head with the lantern to make him lie down. She knew not where her phone was, she knew he was smiling hard at her and the light grew stronger and brighter on her body. She now understood why this man seemed to be so nice to them whenever they sat in the shades of the trees on their dates for long hours. He was, she concluded there and then trespassing them. And he always dismissed the watchman’s ogling eyes for her as mere misunderstanding.

The old man ripped the unhooked buttons, feasted on the tender body with his beedi smelling mouth, felt the unexplored areas, and after about half an hour, glanced a dirty look on her face. She did not shout, for she’d have to explain many a people what she was doing with her friend here at such an odd hour of the night. Teenage is confusing, you want to do things that you aren’t supposed to, and then when you are there, you want to hide it from the world. Tears were her only solace, and she let them out freely. Some time after he’d gone, she gathered her loose clothes, cared no more for him, and got on her heels. Her body did not suffer many wounds, her clothes weren’t torn, but her soul was ripped off into pieces.. She wondered what she’d tell her friend, and the smoky, beautiful eyes a few hours before, turned empty and sore for the better part of her life.

Emptiness Within....

I laugh heartily,
I make myself heard,
I smile often,
And talk aloud.
I eclipse myself in sands of pretention,
Hiding myself in an invisible cloud,
Layers of deception,
Loosing myself in the crowds.

My fears scare me,
And the loneliness inside me grows,
My wounds pain, and the scars tease,
And I wonder, how many more blows?



Somewhere inside me,
Like a conjoined twin,
All I can feel is
Emptiness Within….

A Glance At A Lifetime.......

In the rocking chair, which is almost as old as me, or possibly older, I try to think that I am not dying. I look at the wrinkled skin on my hands and feet, and the receding flesh on them, shouts back to me, that I, I am just a matter of days now. Death, eventually, has struck me – not that I didn’t want it now, but how I had lived a lifetime, with instances of thinking and wishing for my death much more than thanking God ever for giving me life.

The tragedy with Death is, it doesn’t envelope you the way you want it to – sudden and instantaneous. Instead, it gives us all a lifetime to think about, to feel sorry, and to justify the wrongdoings, and to indulge in self appreciation of some deeds worthwhile, atleast from the thinker’s perspective. My eyes heaved down under the thought, my eyes - the once big, attractive eyes had now ceased to be a pair of small openings with graying eye balls and a spectacle over them. Tears, however, still rolled on, easily and swiftly, though now sometimes they would hang a little in the wrinkles of my face. Generally, as it had become a routine now, I started with my childhood memories. Childhood Memories, wherein I found myself the most innocent, and the most vulnerable. The follies that those years had witnessed seemed guiltless and naïve, and even now, without fail, ran a shrill smile on my curved lips, once so full of color and fervor.

Wandering further, I found myself being clutched in the hands of lust, love, greed, power, success and money. Lying and pretention came easily to me, I wouldn’t think twice before hurting people around me, my tongue seemed to have grown poisonous arrows that I would use as a final weapon to my victory. Yes, at the end only victory mattered to me. I did gain attention, for I had a face and an attitude to match, and I made use of that undue attention to gain further prospects. I looked down upon myself, a simple grey colored gown! Ha! Just a simple cloth was what I needed to cover myself, and all my life I ransacked stores after stores to find that ‘perfect fit’. I was successful, yes, for if you measured success in terms of the package I carried home as my ‘Take-Home’, I’d certainly did well. Though, I happened to write less, paint even rarely, and compose only to remind myself that I could. I could never be a writer, like I’d always wanted to, neither could I paint a canvas, so much so as I’d promised in my younger years, and never ever composed a song, much unlike the days when I was young.

Promises of loyalty and faithfulness became statements of utter blatant lies. Loved ones, (If I really loved them), were left behind in the race. I had mastered the art of pretention, and could weave out deceitful stories in minutes. Now, though, I had difficulty even in remembering the names of my kids; I reminisced over how I would build in characters after characters in my woven net of lies and deceit. All I ran after were my desires, the need to have money, to flaunt good clothes, the desire to be touched, and the need to be fed and cared about. I invested in relationships, but relationships need a solid foundation to whither storms of life, and when my existence itself was a lie, my relationships crushed into pieces at the slightest tremor of a blizzard.

Lonely and desperate situations made it all the more compulsory for me to keep me occupied, unlike the days today when I spend hours in this chair, doing absolutely nothing. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, and all such things came in handy when the tensions of work and personal life built walls around me. Wonder how a cloud of smoke and a glass of Vodka could make these walls disappear, atleast for the eyes and a part of the mind. I smiled at the thought of Vodka, in mango juice, for it still had some tantalizing effect on me, though its been long since my lips got to touch it. Married, yes I was married, to some extent forcefully, to the man who rarely said that he loved me, but whose eyes had the look that said he did. He was totally unlike me, all silent and secretive, and where my life was an open book that could be read by anyone, his was a mystery to me. He wouldn’t confess, he wouldn’t lie. All he did was touch me somewhere so deep, that I agreed to spend my life with him. Little, little did I know what love was, and little did I imagine his love for me. He came into my life, like a cool breeze, his presence around calmed my senses, I learned to communicate more without using the tongue, and I felt peace in his arms that held me every night , to this day of my life. Did I blush, @ 73?

He changed me, or maybe I changed myself to match him. I longed for him in a way that can’t quite be explained, and he restrained himself if I’d had anything that he considered not good for me. He knew his power over me, and I knew that I didn’t mind losing to him. Finally, I relieved myself of victory, in losing all of myself to him. Yes, I changed as a person. My mind was suddenly light, and I did away with my occasional cravings for smoke. Though he still spoke less, I would know what was going through his mind when he would touch me. That made up for most of our communication.

A lifetime with this man had given me two kids, a few books written by me, some canvas with colors spread over, and some compositions exclusively for him. A life that had begun to rot and rut, had towards the end seen the light of her own aura. If ever I thanked God, it was for him.

‘Chai’, he whispered in my ears as the tray was laid in the table separating the two of us, across the verandah. It is difficult to say If I had loved someone, or even if I understood what love was, but yes, this man who’s making tea for me here today, definitely knows about it. I closed my eyes, and his weak hands touched my forehead to see if I’d be running a fever. I knew this was it. And I released myself, finally, and united with the universe……

The AfterMath.......

She pushed her eyes close, but sleep would still deceive her. Allegations, and accusations, thrown to her hit her like burning arrows, cutting through her, making her all the more vulnerable, so much so, that she knew sleep would win, another battle. To put in other words, she would loose, yet again.
She wondered who started it off in the first place. And then why did she let out her deepest fears and secrets to them? Alcohol dashed with emotions is a dangerous thing, she’d learnt it long before, but probably forgotten the lesson.
God, let me sleep…Today….
I will deal with this tomorrow.
She’d faced her biggest fears today. Not even once did she let her eyes off the speakers who took their turns to tell her what and how things should be done. Tricky games, they played on and on, and each passing second, her past came haunting up to her, biting its teeth into her soft flesh, making her shed a tear here and there. They knew her no more than what she knew them , yet they had created something in their perceptions that was probably unlike her. She wished someone would stop, somewhere, surely, none of them would breach a level. But no, they did. What started off as a stupid sounding game, turned into a reality checkpoint show. She had failed someone, maybe repeatedly, and she dreaded to hear things about her, that were unfortunately true, yet, superficial. As she pulled herself close, she heard them arguing over her circumstances, present and past, and the irony was that she wasn’t a part of those discussions about her. ‘Did they know my part of the story, or they just pulled all the strings together on their own to make bow and flung burning arrows at her?’ Did she smile? She pulled up all her courage in the world, and though she tried hard to forget the night never did happen, somewhere, some words, stung her like a cobra’s bite, poisoning her entire self, her entire being, questioning her existence, and possibly her deeds.
Humans are a strange race. For I, am aware of what and where I lack, but I never prefer it to come to me by anyone else. Not in a night like this.
Someone said they wished to see me and him happy, forever, (though I doubt the integrity of the word ‘forever’, it more or less implies ‘fictitious’); yet the sincerity of the speaker drifted her mind away from the use of the chosen word. Someone else wished the same, but whether it was the alcohol or something else, that she possibly couldn’t understand fully, he wanted her to quit, quit something that could harm her, “No cigarettes ever, no nicotine in any form”. She wondered what made him say so. She wondered if she needed so many approvals to light a butt. To take a puff, deep, so deep that she would cough for the next half an hour. Well, she knew it was the most polite of their ways to say that, yet somewhere it hurt her. Someone mentioned her being way low than what had been expected, after they’d heard my stories. Stories. Like what? Her eyes searched for a pair that would have said ‘You are perfect, perfect in all ways’. No, this imaginary set of eyes didn’t exist. She smiled. Someone mentioned the hardships that lay in the front, taking care to view the situation from one angle, yet making statements on her. Stating, how hard life must have been to her. How long she’d been smiling, she knew not. Did she need that appreciation certificate?
Beds. I always change sides when sleep deceives me, thinking perhaps on one of the entourages, it will enter my eyes thinking I am someone else. And that side would be preferred the next night. And the next, till sleep gets my game, and then I would explore the bed yet again.
She felt the need to clarify her actions, and justify her steps, right or wrong. Why did she need the approval of others, she couldn’t really make out. Whether it was alcohol or was it her deep rooted hurt, she didn’t know, but when she heard that voice taking her name, in the most informal manner, stating that ‘I’d be forever around’; she blurted. As I said, the word, though fictitious, associates with itself having dreadful impacts, perhaps like this one. She said something he never liked hearing, just the way she didn’t like mentioning it. Something dark, something rave, yet something that was the reason of her being here. She went on, after he was done, and let out her story, the way it was to her. Scary, torturous, and uncertain, lost in the unknown, amongst the known. There was no need. She didn’t need to. Infact, she shouldn’t have let it out.
Justifications are a waste of time, and emotions. They call for unwanted bouts of self appraisal, and self reprimandations. Pity. I hadn’t still learnt her lessons. Perhaps, there were more chapters to be unfolded.
Just after she spat out, she felt naked. She wanted to escape, away, and her wounds drew fresh cuts. The stupid after remarks felt like salt, only making the pain much more unbearable. She wanted herself, with her, in the perfectly imperfect world of her own. She screamed she wanted to go, for she knew they wouldn’t let her, not at this hour of the night. The night was almost dead, and her fears had come to life yet again, mocking her from all possible corners, and the only way they could do it in a callous way was being with her, alone and vulnerable. ‘My fate is such, that my fears will rearrange the chemistry of the universe, so that I could be cut, bled, and stung’. She was home.
Switch side, I said to myself, tears didn’t scare me anymore, what scared me was something inside of me. I begged sleep to envelope me, and like everyone else, it had its conditions. ‘I will, enter your eyes through the sides’, it said, ‘but the centre of the canvas will be painted in the colors of the night’. Devious. I know.

In Search....

I am not sure where I am going, or where is my destination,
Am wondering what I am looking for, I need some explanation,
I am confused, and insecure, I don’t have a clear path,
I feel lost and uncertain, filled with tears and uncalled wrath,
I am unknown to the world, I can’t even say if I know me,
I am looking for answers, to the questions I myself build,
I am driving down a road, and can’t say if its right,
I am standing up for something, not sure if it deserves a fight,
Where have I landed myself, I know not,
Where I am headed, I haven’t yet thought,
Am I over, and all is lost?
Is this a beginning, or a full stop?