This Boy, This Man



This boy,
This crooked eared, half toothed smile boy,
His shoulders so broad,
With this tiny crook for me to rest my head and offload,
Looked quite comfy from across the road,
Those eyes, travelled for years, not yet bored,
Stories and stories untold
Where you going, heart? Hold!

This boy,
This honey eyed, silk voiced boy,
He moves with such grace,
Leaving me in a daze,
How can he maintain such a casual poise ?
His fingers entwining in mine like the most exquisite lace,
“I mango you too!” responding in all earnest, he holds me in the softest, warmest and safest embrace.

This boy,
This animal taming, baby stealing boy,
Melting hearts of man, woman, child and pet with such ease,
Smiling his big smile, it’s a clean sweep.
365 days without crease,
There there Vijoy! You got me! Can you just stop it please?
He holds me tight, “ it’s alright! I am here! Don’t be scared now. You’ll never forget to breathe”

This man,
This protective man, this nurturing man,
He gave me a prescription with a ring recently,
Tight unbreakable hugs for the anxiety,
Tall strong shoulders against the jealous eyes of society
Eyes of conviction for self-doubt no matter how mighty,
Calm soothing voice for the times the voice inside is too flighty
From now to infinity.

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Soldier Island of Misogyny

It was evening and the air was anxious with precipitation. I was expecting rain. Being stranded under the porch of nearby shop. What I didnt realise was that I am going to walk into a game of misogyny rush( like minion rush).

I was sitting with a bunch of new acquaintances. There were drinks and awkward anecdotes doing rounds trying to loosen us enough to so that whatever we were pretending to be, could be more genuine. We tumbled into talking about relationships as if that isnt awkward at all. Very confidently I said, to date me the guy has to be a feminist. I was wrong to think that its a norm amongst people with a decent educational background. But being wrong wasn’t so much of a shock as the fact that it was considered appropriate to try to school me on my choices. I was busy counting my stars that I have had the privilege of being a feminist compared to this young man who probably didnt have access to proper education in his obsolete little town where women probably dont  have the freedom to step out of the house(the little bourgeois in me awakening). But little did I know that its the Soldier Island of Misogyny and I am about to be more stranded than what I had originally thought.

Well all men are trash and a man being aware of feminism is barely short of impossible. But I thought my pool of acquaintances would atleast have women who are empowered. But I came across the ‘Cool Girl’. I never really thought Gillian Flynn’s monologue would be like a horocrux of this agony. But yes intelligent women think its cool to be sexist and its painful to witness. Their fathers have bred them well I guess (note the sarcasm). They think they are cool being the bros without realising that they are being considered unworthy as they are. The Cool Girl is reduced to nothing more than the Pavlovian dog.

But I felt that perhaps its all just internalised misogyny and any actual incident would not go unfettered. But then there was the Stockholm Syndrome and it aint pretty. I witnessed a sexual abuse victim cajoling with her abuser. I didn’t know whether to be disgusted, alarmed or concerned. Hence I was all. Who fucked you up honey? I have met victims sexual abuse which was more violent and physically damaging. But I pitied this one the most because her ability to think were probably put in some tijori along with the dowry for her wedding.

So I stood up for the poor hapless child. But I was supposed to not indulge in personal grudges said some. If a woman is abused anywhere on the planet, its personal and the reason why you dont think so is also why someone else is going to decide who you are going to marry as well. It should ideally be more personal to you than to me.

But the worst feeling was to see another feminist be a misogynist. ”

“Why do you treat women a certain way and men another”, I asked? The women are horrible and have personally done horrible things to me. Even if it were true, why does the man get a discount on being a douche and not the woman? If any, the discount should go to woman as she has been brainwashed into accepting misogyny as a norm.

That nearly broke my heart. Its so easy to go back to our misogynous past. That even the most educated, aware of and committed to feminism  have hardly any chance to remain so. I thought of this friend of mine who was all for feminism but her voice used to get several tones softer when talking to men. She had absolutely no control over it. Thats how deep patriarchy runs.

As I mulled over these thoughts, my mind mirroring the dark clouds forming above me,  I was pushed roughly by a woman running to get into a standing train to the burbs. Irritated, I snapped, “If you cant catch a train, why don’t you just sit at home and cook.”

(hullo internalised misogyny)

And then there were none…




Shh let’s not say it,

it hurts but why express it.

its killing me and you,

but the roads were different for our blues.

let’s not think it too hard,

because its not approved until its an Archies’ card.


Shh lets wipe off those tears,

it doesn’t matter, those years.

that my shoulder was once your home,

but suddenly its an abandoned zone.

Was my love not enough?

or his or his or ruff?


Shh stop it already,

lest it be known to the wary,

that its as absurd to me as them,

that you left me in absolute mayhem,

without a message or a note,

you left me with a tragic anecdote.


– For Vijoy


We Sell Experiences

We sell experiences,

We sell love in a jar,

travel to places afar,

teach you to appreciate nuances,

surprises by the instant.

We sell experiences,

to people far and near,

strangers who suddenly become dear,

not afraid of the distance,

seamless, endless without hindrance.

We sell experiences,

taste food from lands unknown,

reap of what others have sown,

get service without the petulance,

without lifting a finger hence.

We sell experiences,

but prepare to be broken,

prepare to do things best left unspoken,

prepare to do the dance,

cannot avoid the askance.

We sell experiences,

Afraid, it’s not much of a choice,

and you would leave none the wise,

the effort on this appearance,

will make you want the interference.


Metaphorically Me

Very few people actually try figuring themselves out. Most accidentally run into themselves. Those who dare to find themselves. There are very few of them. I am not  part of either I would say.But I do have some glimpses to myself. Like a trailer to a hopefully not boring movie.So here it goes. Me


Toothy and dimpled. Miles is not the kind to get lost in a crowd. He is the kind, you notice in a crowd.  He makes it look that its easy. Miles recalls the times when it was easy. He took it for granted. But then he came across a dark period where he was unable to stretch even a little. He learnt some things that time. He is better now. Even when it is really bleak, he knows he has to give it all. And he does. No he is never fake. Even when it is difficult, he just enjoys it. Not because its a great day, great week or even a great year. It is because it doesn’t have to be great to smile. But the smile can make it great. Miles can.

A Broken Flower

Busy , busy, everybody looks so busy. But well Lily has to be bright and vibrant regardless of whether anybody notices or not. That is just who she is. But oh boy that man on the cellphone, he looks occupied and he is headed straight towards her.

There was no noise when he banged into her. He probably thinks its just a bump. But she is broken. There is barely any of her left. He turns back, gives an unconcerned apology and rushes off. Her cries of pain are muffled by her small frame. If a flower cries, but nobody sees, did it even cry? Lily knows all too well. She wishes the fellow some luck with whatever it was that made him so. She says to herself.

”I barely have a petal or two left, time will heal me. But I am going to be me and well maybe nobody will notice my wounds.”

Till this day. Nobody has. Lily will never be known as a victim. She will always charm you out of that disposition.


An Unread Book

Charlie has been on the bookshelf since he was bought. When he was leaving his other friends at the bookstore, they all wished him luck. They said, have a full life! Stretch yourself out! Lose a page or two! May you be all dog eared and torn!

But Charlie is still in the cellophane cover he was wrapped in. Every time somebody comes towards the bookshelf, he was praying to be picked. One day he was picked. But only to be kept back.  He lost most of his self esteem there. ”Am I not worth it?” He thought. However now he prays that someone would read him and not just pick him up. Its not like he is one of those fat dusty books, then why does nobody want to read him? He fears that there is algae formation on his back. But atleast that way he will break from his cellophane cage.


Movie Stub

Eric loves the movies. He knows everything about them. Today he is exceptionally happy because he is finally going to enter the movie hall. Today he gets to be a movie ticket. He had been safely kept in a drawer just for today. He is transferred into a wallet. As he gets closer to the cinema, his heart beats faster. He is being taken out. His heart might just leave his chest.

Eric spends two amazing hours in sheer awe. But good things come to an end.

”Wait a minute?! You cant just dump me like that.” Eric is anxious. Then another movie ticket tells him, “Kid the show is over. Now you are just a stub. You didn’t expect it would go on forever did you now? ” Eric does not respond. He doesn’t want to admit its over yet.

The Earrings

Delilah and Layla, they are the quite some girls, these two. Little old school but not left behind in any sense. When they are on an ear each, they make people turn and look. Some days they just lie around listless. They say its worth the wait. When they do finally get to head out they take in all that they can. They are peppy and sassy these two. Don’t let their old world look fool you. These sisters will have you all wrapped up before you even know it.



Jen and George. Don’t let them start talking. you will never hear the end of it.They can never stay still. Always in search of a new adventure. Thus they always have way too many stories to tell. It is quite a chore to put these two to rest.


I am but only a metaphor.

I will not be something someone has already become,

nor will anyone ever be what I am.

I am more than what I can say

and less than what I will be some day.

I am what you see,

I am what you didn’t see.

I am but only a metaphor.