UjaLa la land

A picture I received on Whatsapp  from a hotel room in Hyderabad. Mr. Winter and his Wife have been harming me for years. The W of  Mr. Winter and the W of his Wife They both bewitch the W of my Windows which refuse to move, refuse to talk. The couple fill my eyes with dread  when I watch them kill little kittens and puppies With utmost impunity Poison all good food with cold staleness Send electric shocks in the shower and burn any touchwood ever uttered They roar, haul, and haunt houses in twilight They laugh loudly as the trees shrink their leaves to spread them back only when they are long gone. The stone-cold savages know no grace They are molesters who go on scratching scalps and sucking the skin dry I am not sure if Mrs. Winter is aware of the lips Mr. Winter has been biting, indiscriminately. I have seen Mrs. Winter freezing time,  so that the world stops and only her husband makes progress. Mr. Winter on the other hand pompously promenades in his creamy whit...

Just another couple on the internet The Supreme Court of India recently expressed its inability to provide the rights of marriage to the LGBTQIA+ community. The community has been asked to knock on the doors of the legislature, with the Judiciary only being able to provide so much (protection from police harassment and discrimination in all institutions of the country). At the same time, members of the ruling party call the entire movement an 'urban elitist movement' making the bleak prospects of recognition of queer marriages pretty apparent in India. It can be discomforting to learn that a section of society has been denied rights that are so central to the lives of the rest of the country. Out of 132 countries that have decriminalized homosexuality, only 32 have legalized same-sex marriage, and yet the ramifications of the same are larger for a country like India. However, when I put this news in the context of the heated discussions on the 'decreasing relevance of marri...

Preface -  This piece was written for an ekphrastic writing (Musings on a picture) competition organized by Blue Q uill. I had never imagined myself as a wife, neither in stories nor in play. It was the first time I tried to see myself as a grief-stricken wife. My own creation affected me in so many ways. However, the best part of writing this was getting a wild card entry into the creative writing club of Miranda House, whose anthologies continue to be warm, inclusive, and, poignant.     Frida Kahlo’s Self Portrait with Cropped Hair (1940) The pain escalates with these gradual realizations thrusting on me, one by one, day by day, bit by bit that what you did in reality, in the world I despise, in the time when we were apart has been beyond my most paranoid confabulations. I remember your breath and how it coalesced with mine, the fragrance of our love making and how it matched and surpassed those of flowers I tucked in my buns while leaving. And when I left, you le...

 It's a bathroom song, a bathroom song. Singing in the open is obviously wrong Cause it's a bathroom song a bathroom song Here, I am the kingkong nothing's right, no wrong in my bathroom song it's a bathroom song. I slide everywhere the soap make moves that are dope A lot to cleanse before I rinse Mountains and holes reminding me roles Time is up though With a ding and dong in my bathroom song it's  a bathroom song What I should think What I should see Questions I need to work on or life's philosophy Bathing is not boring not when ideas are soaring some straight but mostly oblong in my bathroom song in a bathroom song. I turn on the shower The play ends in power I feel fresh and free Can run and flee God, I am so lucky! Lucky and Strong in my bathroom song It's a bathroom song.

Mr. Charan Singh    26 June, Monday:  I made a 76-year-old friend named Charan Singh Oberoi. On this fine evening, this retired English lecturer confidently introduced himself and took hold of a long conversation about life. Mr. Charan has survived two brain strokes. He also boasts of a heart attack in which he carried himself to the hospital with his hands on his chest. Despite the brain stroke affecting the volume and pace of his words he kept flaunting his fitness and fluency. I found myself asking him a question I had never gotten a chance to ask any old person in my lifetime. " What makes you want to live so much at this age?" This was my genuine query for somebody who could not afford ambitions or aspire for worldly pleasures. To my surprise, this question delighted him, and he thanked me for asking it.  As anyone can guess, the answer wrapped the entire evening, including a live demonstration of yoga poses! He also asked me to refrain from meat, alcohol, and s...

 A remix composition by Meera, originally written by Agha Shahid Ali I went mad in your house of words, purposely mad, so you would give me asylum. I went mad to undergo a therapy of syllables. But you only prescribed time. That didn’t work. ********************** Words never evade you, you can build anything. You can build a whole hour with only seven seconds. I too tinkered with their population. Used them all at once, sent them rushing behind you. I saw my wild barbarous slaves,  tamed and domesticated at the sight of you. Wagging their tails and bowing to you. To which you waved and let them all astray. I saw you doing wonders without words. Like a stumbled atheist's gaze at the sky, my words would roar and curse and  complain. but never call your name. One day, you went mad too, Purposely mad. So,  I could cure you.  There was no chance of you insane. And I could not have cured you. Because I was  mad  too, Purposely mad. so,  I can...

  Miley Cyrus' song, ‘Flowers’ is relishing its success among the young ever since its release this January. Significant credit is being given to the lyrics: “ I can buy myself flowers, I can write my name in the sand, I can talk to me for hours and say things you can't understand, I can take me dancing and I can hold my hands. Yes, I can love me better than you can .” In an interview with Vogue, Cyrus revealed that the actual end chorus was “   but I can't love me any better than you do.” However, she changed the lyrics in the final composition and the song became an international hit. ‘Flowers’ and its changed lyrics struck a chord with an entire generation of youth brazenly choosing to love themselves, publicly and unapologetically. The basic premise of the concept of ‘Self-love’ is that it must come before anyone or anything you ever choose to love. The way you love yourself then teaches other people how to love you. This also sets a bar for how you wish to be treate...

  State of Mind gets too whimsical Karma is neglected, fantasies prioritized Disappointment and shock Underappreciation of the present Underutilization of the present Distraction and deviations in focus Kills time You may fantasize if you want, but thoda thoda, daily. After all, "possession of anything begins in the mental plane" ~Brucelee "Imagination is more important than knowledge"~ APJ Abdul Kalam Edit 2025 ' P.S: This post was triggered by Maladaptive Day Dreaming, a coping mechanism for people not satisfied with their realities at all and deny any such malady for themselves. My consciousness could sense the issue but didn't have the vocabulary for it and used to journal and write to resist the disease.  Not many will relate  but those who do will understand. 

 June is one of the finest things about any year on earth. It is the middle of summer and the middle of the year at the same time. When the scorching summer heat is almost well adapted to and soon the monsoon starts knocking. When you are often asked by your long-distance well-wishers if it rained at your place and what a relief it would have been if it happened at theirs. When the mangoes get ripe and real, melons get ready to be used for all metaphors of sweet and plump, litchis swiftly run on the green lawns to be out of sight again, and when berries are counting their last breaths. It's a month when the birds have a lot of chirping to do and no other noise is capable of dimming their mellifluous bedlam. The squirrels run the fastest, the dogs get laziest and the cats creepiest.  Selfie with the 'mausam'  If a year is given the analogy of a movie, June is the part when an already built-up plot has the maximum pressure to indulge the audience till the climax arrives. It...

  And sometimes I do not wish to be a mirror..... I want to be cardboard, paper, anything that does not reflect. Does not reflect outwards.~ Ritu Mehra कई बार जब आप किसी ख़ाली मकान का दरवाज़ा खटखटा रहे होते हैं तो पास से गुज़रने वाला कोई राहगीर आपको बता ही देता है, 'यहाँ कोई नहीं रहता'। कुछ समय पश्चात निर्जन मकान खंडहर होकर अपने निर्जन होने का स्वतः प्रमाण बन जाते हैं। पर मनुष्य की देह के साथ ऐसा नहीं होता। आप किसी ख़ाली शरीर के सामने खड़े होकर चिल्ला रहे हों तो भी कोई राहगीर आपको 'यहाँ कोई नहीं रहता' कहकर नहीं चेताएगा और न ही वह ख़ाली देह खंडहर ही होगी। ख़ाली देह बाहर से नहीं उजड़ती। भीतर से सड़ती है। धीरे-धीरे। जब भीतर सब कुछ सड़ जाता है तब जाकर कहीं सड़न बाहर आ पाती है। तब आप बस देखकर कह सकते हैं 'यहाँ कोई नहीं रहता, इस शरीर में जो रहता था उसे यहाँ रहने की अनुमति नहीं मिली'। निर्जन मकान ढह जाते हैं लेकिन निरात्मा शरीर! उन्हें मृत्यु तक ख़ुद को घसीटते रहने का शाप है। इसपर भी उनकी चेतना नहीं मरती, वह बस सड़ जाती है। उसे किसी का भी शरीर के भीतर रहना नहीं सुहाता। हमारे समाज म...