IMG_20170417_230113_655.jpgIt was my first time. 

Nervous I was like a kid – cold hands, wrenching stomach and sweaty forehead.

 He handed me his ‘God’. I looked at his eyes – still like water, sparkling and constant. Those stillness of his eyes gave me confidence. 

I took it from him – his God. My shaky hands were ready now. 

I could feel inside me the leashed snake moving its tail. Sleaky – looking for something, searching. 

And I did it. His God was inside me.

Those snake eyes were looking at me, straight and without any confusion. I knew I was the target. The slow sleaky snake was unleashed now. It made its move. Its pace increased. It came closer and closer and closer and finally did it. 

I was inside.

And there I found solace…

Being Me.

photogrid_1480739082265Alone is a bad word. I never felt good about it. I actually prayed for people going through this word in their lives.

And then I fell into the same exact situation.

I felt bad for me.

I prayed for me.

I cried for me.

I tried finding reasons. I tried reasoning. Big words like self respect, priorities, heart and soul found places in the first pages of my vocal dictionary.

Then I decided to leave the mess and ignore.

‘Ignorance is bliss’- Bullshit.

I decided to be stone self outside and coined it as ‘moving on’. Again a WHITE LIE.

I thought this way I would go into depression. My mirror selfie lol’d.

What was the way out of it? Why did I’ve to fight it? Did I just lose my mind?

Time was the way out.

I was afraid of the term and the overthought meaning. Hence, I was fighting it.

No, I didn’t lose my mind but yeah it was a 25% difficult life situation.

There is nothing like ‘being alone’ or ‘being in a crowd yet feeling alone’. You always have your Me to look after and enjoy with. I’ve started believing that half of such People Life Situations happen when a) one’s individual self takes a back burner position and b) expectations starts to bud.

I survived and am still surviving. I’ve stopped praying and feeling bad for people who are alone because they always have themselves to look after and enjoy. Because it is ultimately me who I’ve to teach to love, look after and make a successful individual.

People come. Few stay. Few you keep holding. Few have lessons. Few are bad choices. Few leave.

But Me stays!

Look after that Me.

Because Me happens only once!



A chill ran down the spine
Wakening the goosebumps on nape.
The room swayed slow motion
The atmosphere remained still fine.

‘It’s all in my head’
Sanity screamed
‘I saw a piece of you fall’
Insanity screamed.

I don’t want to do it
Let me feel my dreams.
There was an investment done in you
Just don’t ruin it!

Glasses should have been shattered
And metals with noise
Vacuum got the hold
And numb got a voice.

‘It’s all in my head’
Insanity screamed.
Sanity was busy cramming
Numbness did nothing but gleamed!

Single Diner

Sunday supplements often leave me fascinated.

Today’s supplement gave me one word – ‘single diner’ that slowly was edging me to seduction.
Bright mood, sunny morning, clean shoes – a perfect day to use the seducing phrase.
Approaching the restaurant with my bouncy walk, the attendant asked ‘table for two ma’am?!’
‘Nope! I’m a single diner’ the words fell excitedly.
‘Aah! Table for one for charming lady!’
Delighted I was all warmed up now.
The head chef with his customary smile told me that I would be served ‘feelings’.
Expecting a cliché dish, what came was love.
Nose tingling aroma, classy look, sassy taste and basic flavors, I had my foodgasm.
Stepping out of the restaurant I realized ‘single dining’ was an experience.
Smiling to the air, balancing on the rails, buying the balloons and dirtying my shoes, I knew I was loved, and guess by whom – by me!
Later in the eve, when moon took over, there was another singler awaiting me. I was happily a single pooper.


Freedom, a responsibility.

Bull shit ! Freedom, an obligation.

Freedom, to be you, feel you and appreciate you.

Freedom, to snap at the judgments and then over think the same.

Freedom, to choose your life.

Freedom, to just breathe.

Freedom, to break free, to feel strong, to feel sexy

Freedom, to ridicule over one’s choice of sexuality.

Freedom, to feel beautiful with one’s imperfections.

Freedom, to take advantage of loopholes to reach the top.

Freedom, because its my birthright.

Freedom, because its society’s obligations.


The world is made of electrons, protons and neutrons – the basic element of life.

The basic colors looks perfect on you.

The very basic thing was missing in our relationship.

Its all about basics, ain’t it – small words, clear feelings and simple living.

He dated a science teacher. She knew about the origin of universe, plant and animal life and the very way to his heart. She was the gravitational pull of his existence.

He wanted to live happily with a basic ‘I love you’.

But she denied basics. She wanted a complicated happily ever after.

Hence, she left for finding her right complicated soulmate.

My gravitational pull left me.

I was left with my basics. I had to return to them.

Now I’m found with the atmosphere, in the protons, electrons and neutrons.

I was back to my basics. Forever and after.


Hardly Understood

‘Being understood is hard you know’ – my 13 year old cousin said. 
‘Hormones speaking huh?!’ I teased. 
Deep down inside I knew she was right. After all I was the most misunderstood person in my family. 
‘You know what, to be understood you need to be misunderstood actually.’ – she said..
‘Haha maybe!’ – I said. 
The conversation ended there. But my brains had their wheels rolling. Being misunderstood isn’t a privilege. Neither it gives you some philosophical edge. It only tires you. And distances you, from people and sometimes even you yourself. 
Its like a black hole sucking  all your energies and light. Like those dementors of Harry Potter – slowly and steadily sucking everything that you had kept safe. I had a fight and I know I’m walking towards that black hole, tripping on the way, hurting my soul, waiting to be bandaged and finally dying into it. 
And then the very next day, you wake with with a dead part to live again. 
Maybe that is how life is supposed to be. Each day a part of me has to die. Some an easy death and some, very traumatizingly. That’s why maybe I cry everytime I’m misunderstood. I cry on the death of my own self. 
‘What are you staring at now?’ – cousin asked? 
‘Umm at the black hole actually. Checking out how much more space and strengths it has to witness deaths of my some more tiny self…’
‘Huh?! I don’t understand you.’ – she said.
‘Well I’m hardly understood’ – I grinned.