A Letter To Your Restraint, From Mine…

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Have you never noticed this living, breathing, heavy space between us? It tastes like metal, it tastes like a cage, but on the tip of my tongue, it tastes like desire. It is explosive, and every time I exhale, I push it farther, willing it to expand, to try and extinguish the flame. Because I see you do the same.

Conversations tilt, as your breathing alters – each word measured, each tone enslaved in reins. The language we use, I long for it to be coarse. I long for us, for you, to tear away these drapes of grace, of propriety. A wildness lurks in the corners of your speech, that sometimes escapes, in the way you smile, in the scent of oceans that you wear. I long for that wildness to be the norm.

And I want you to be with your hands and mouth what I want you to be with your language.

Do you not see how we embrace, yet fear touch? Do you not see the air come alive to burn us, every time our fingers come too close? Do you not feel the electricity – it’s white hot. Flowing lava would seem a meek river finding its way to the sea.

Restraint does not come easy to me. I have only learned to give in, and I have only learned to take. Being in close quarters with you is a test of my endurance. It nudges me to break the rules that keep us apart, this illusion of a false morality.

Is this a tale of torment? If not you, then who is to answer?

Do not tell me I’m blind; your eyes pine, and I see the thirst in your fingers. I see my heart forgetting its discipline, and my mind’s muddled with thoughts – thoughts of the lines and curves that form your lips, that I’m sure taste like cinnamon.

Tell me what is it that you fear, even though I already know. Are you afraid of losing yourself? Do you worry you can never come back from this, once you cross that invisible line? Tell me again, and make it real, so I keep these desires in cuffs and chains.


Image Source: Shutterstock

Moth to a Flame

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There’s no silence to be had
Between us, or so my instincts claim.
You rarely let me in even so,
Should I then try again?

Your glass is full of stories
Of your friends and your fame.
I’ve tried to wade in twice or more,
Gone against the grain.

Standoffish are you, or merely quiet?
Indifference, or am I a reminder of an old pain?
A puzzle, a mystery, so enticing.
So tell me, do I dare try again?

Linking to dVerse Poets OLN

This poem earned me the title of Blogstar on BlogChatter!

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Across the Temple Hall

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Where were we,
Among those writhing
Bodies oiled with sweat
And passions hot,
Less an orgy,
More a war,
Were they all busy,
When our eyes met,
Across the temple hall.

Another dusk,
Another year,
We prostrate ourselves
Before our chosen gods,
On a higher plane
We may have been
Yet when I turned around
Our eyes met,
Across the temple hall.

And now I meet,
You yet again
In a graveyard
Of midnight’s dreams,
Stranger, who are you?
Do you know, I burn,
For you,
Like fire on blood red
Carnations at noon.

 

Linking to dVerse Poets OLN

Moments With A Stranger

Stranger,
Let me love you but don’t fall for me,
I am no calm sea, but the jolt of electricity,
That’ll kill you when you’re asleep.

Stranger,
What is this urge so deep,
Every vein throbs with my need for you to claim me, own me,
And when you’re with me, you find it hard to breathe,

Stranger,
On my skin, write a lyrical symphony,
Don’t kiss me, but still my quivering lip not quietly
Your scent is heady like good poetry and a dirty dream.

Stranger,
As these dew drops roll down the rosebuds slowly
Tresses wild as these, let them wrap your neck in glee,
Hold my gaze and with it bind me to set me free.

Stranger,
My name you ask, I do believe,
But don’t let names corrupt the whispers around you and me,
Let me hold you, bestow endearments sweet.

Stranger,
Perfect moments come but rarely,
As these, with you entwined with me
But don’t fall for me, moments are perfect for they fleet.

 

Image Source: Pinterest
Image Source: Pinterest

The Defenses Around My Heart


Top post on IndiBlogger.in, the community of Indian Bloggers


It was a crowded dance floor,
The lights were turned low.
There were ribbons of fireflies in all colors,
Casting neon glows.
There were over a hundred men and women,
Letting go of their worries then.
No sound save for the loud music,
Could be heard in that loud den.

And in that chaos where our troubles went to sleep,
I caught him looking at me
I do not know what it meant
I don’t think his expression I could read.
I stepped off the dance floor
I stepped away from the noise and the chaos
And sure as I knew I would,
Searching for me he was!

He caught me staring back,
Asked me why I wouldn’t dance.
There were butterflies in my stomach.
I could feel the stopping of the clock’s hands.

I hated it that out of nowhere he came in,
And began crushing the defenses around my heart, that I had taken years to build.
I hated it that while every carefully constructed defense is crumbling, 

I am letting him into my heart, bit by a little bit…

And I hated it too when I realized… 

That I was secretly waiting for that last wall to come crashing down!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Why So Furious? Let’s Put That Tissue In Its Place


Top post on IndiBlogger.in, the community of Indian Bloggers
 

After I posted The Backstabber, I got flooded with questions – oh, who am I kidding! – the two or three people who read it, asked me about my thoughts on pre-marital sex. I write fifty posts about love and relationships and no one bats an eye. I write one post which, with a lot of subtlety, alludes to a so-called “sensitive issue” and everyone two-three people get really curious!

Image courtesy: Google (like, where else would I get this!)

   
Why is this (only this) being blown out of proportion? Is a (really thin) tissue really worth so much discussion? Why should what someone does in their own time become a subject of tea-time gossip or a weapon of mass-future-blackmail (I know what you did last summer. Play your cards right or I’ll tell your mother)?

Some truly bizarre instances that I have come across:


1) Boy meets girl – falls truly, madly, deeply in love with her (apparently) – comes to know girl had a boyfriend in the past – rushes girl to hospital to find out the status of her hymen (yo’ love as thin as a tissue eh, bro? (literally)).
2) The well-known Khushboo controversy – crazy fans build temple for mere mortal because she looks “hot” on screen – mortal says “No educated man should expect his wife to be a virgin” – crazy fans turn deranged and destroy aforementioned temple. (Idiots, she made more sense when she made that statement than when the lot of you built that temple)
3) Random Indian dude claims to have slept with multiple women – but will marry only a virgin from his gaon selected by mummy dearest, because he cannot be with a “used piece” (in such instances, “Dude, what the f***!” sounds like a gross understatement)

Why does it become a viable character-assassination chapter when a girl gives into her instincts? Why isn’t a guy even questioned in these matters? There are situations in which you can’t be right or wrong. You just be. If you want to be goody-two-shoes about it, it’s fine. If you want to give in, what is wrong, I ask you! And why is it that majority of Indian men think that the presence of the hymen is the ultimate test of your wife/girlfriend’s “purity”? I hate to be the one breaking it to you – but a hymen can not break when you’re ill or active in sports. Also, if she wanted to deceive you or something, it is easily replaceable. How ignorant of these facts are you?

That’s another thing that annoys me. What’s with all the purity/impurity nonsense? What, are you buying groceries from a store? Checking if daal has something kaala in it?

I once received a forwarded sms, which had pink undertones of “Aww, so sugary sweet”; but like all things too sugary and sweet, it simply made me nauseated. It went like this, “Every guy wishes he is his girlfriend’s first love and every girl wishes she is her boyfriend’s last love.” This line was followed by a bunch of “less-than-3″s and blushing smileys. Yes, definitely I would wish to be my man’s last (that’s stating the obvious), but what sort of a narrow-minded, insecure guy would beg to be a girl’s first and only? Are you afraid that she would keep comparing you with someone else, and someone else would get more marks? You think she might dominate you (explain this to me, how is a woman with a “past” more dominating? I have heard this statement from some guys, but sounded senseless)? Or is the thought too scary that she might teach you a thing or two (in life, in bed, whatever)? Your male ego can’t stand being taught things “by a girl”? Is that why you behave illiterate despite being educated, because most of your teachers were women and you refused to be taught anything?

As an IT professional working with clients from abroad, I often get included on congratulatory mail chains when my counterparts deliver babies or celebrate other happy occasions. Once, one of my counterparts happily announced that his girlfriend had recently delivered their second child. Congratulations followed. A bunch of scandalized Indians sat and stared at the emails wondering “Girlfriend? Haaye haaye! Not married and bachcha paida kar diya?!” We are talking about a bunch of educated (and yet, scandalized) IT professionals here. In my opinion, a man who loves his girlfriend and has a child with her is any day much better than a man who followed “customs” and “traditions” and married a “pure” ghee girl of his parents’ choice and gave them grandchildren before the first year was out. In all possibility, he has not even properly seen the face of the girl he married; if mummy-dearest said, “Son, I want to hear the sound of tiny feet,” then sonny dear probably got down to business, and the face of his wife is probably not what he was looking at! 


I should probably end this rant, though I have so much more to say on this subject. But the whole bunch of Indian men who call women derogatory things like “used pieces” should know – dears, you’re entitled to your deranged, perverted, narrow-minded, sick opinions, but if you can flaunt a past with fifteen girlfriends (real or imagined), just to be called a stud in your social circle, then you have no right to judge a girl who has loved (but, possibly and sadly lost) a guy or two in her past. You may be a stud (good for you, man!), but she is NOT a slut!


Brickbats welcomed below! 

Can You Be In Love With Two People At Once?

This was a difficult topic for me to explore. I know that once I post this, several people will disagree with me. It’s natural. Last week, a friend of mine who was in a bit of a dilemma approached me and asked me a question, “Can a person be in love with two different people at the same time?”

I knew what she was going through (sort of) and I knew what brought her to ask this question. She was thinking of the future. I needed some time to think about this. Idealists and moralists would tell you how wrong the question is and how you should not think of such treacherous things. But who wrote down ideals and morals? How do they know what is right? And isn’t there a difference between right and truth. Truth is what makes you free. In some cases, happy. But truth may not be what is right (here, I mean “right” in a moral sense). Pondering over my friend’s question put me in a bit of a tight spot. My friends have often asked me these kind of “righteously confusing” questions (because unless you’re a murderer or a rapist or a criminal of any sort, I try not to judge anyone; everyone has their reasons and I have no right to judge them). I normally do not answer them directly, but pose a question to them. If they can answer it, they can draw their own conclusions. But in this case, I could not think of a suitable question. But then, I remembered something. A couple of months ago, I had been re-reading Brida. I had been reading it to find some answers to some of my own questions (completely unrelated to my friend’s). But I recalled a chapter in the book where Brida asks the same question to her mother. “Can you love two people at the same time?” Her mother had answered in the affirmative, and gone to explain in a very beautiful way how she had met a stranger and she had a conversation with him. That day she knew she loved two people at the same time – the stranger and her husband.
So I told my friend that it is all about what you feel in that moment. If in a moment you love two people, then yes, it is possible. She was disappointed with my response. Perhaps, she wanted me to advice her or tell her what she was doing was wrong or whatever. She said, “No, you can’t be in love with two people at the same time.” I said you can. I explained to her it was all about the moment. I told her it was nothing to do with right and wrong. It is just about what you think in that moment. Once the moment passes, and you did not explore what you set to explore, you might regret it for the rest of your life. Better to regret what you did, than what you did not have the courage to try.

She did not accept my explanation. Finally I agreed to disagree. I did not base this solely on what I had read. But I truly believe that in a moment, it is possible. You do not have to think what comes after the moment. Because once the moment passes, you will choose what is right for you (re-iterating, there is a difference between what is “right” and what is “right for you“). Once the moment passes, you will choose and you will choose wisely. But during the moment, it is perfectly possible for you to be in love with two people at the same time.

Like I said at the beginning of this post, there will be many who will disagree with me. There will be more questions springing from my answer to this one. But that’s alright. We are seasoned to believe some things are right and some things are wrong and all of us are entitled to our opinions.
Meanwhile, here are some quotes from Brida that I really liked:

“None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward. Because we trust. Because we have Faith.”

“Accept what life offers you and try to drink from every cup. All wines should be tasted; some should only be sipped, but with others, drink the whole bottle.”

“Choosing a path meant having to miss out on others.”

“Don’t bother trying to explain your emotions. Live everything as intensely as you can.”

Related posts:
Re-reading Brida
And I Finished Reading Brida