Monday, October 30, 2017


You tell me to stop
So instead I type
Because to stop would mean
That this world is fine
And it’s okay to accept it
Just the way it is.

But there, you see
Lies the problem
I cannot stop
For to stop would mean
That I’m finally comfortable
Wearing hot pants and walking
On a dark empty road at night
That my gender no longer
Matters at work
That I won't be asked
Without realising
To book the meeting room
Or arrange the hospitality
To leave after work
Early before a drink
That paternity leave
Is as important as maternity
That popping out a baby
Is no longer just my responsibility

That I don’t have to spend my life
Being Superman
And Wonder Woman
Morphed into one
For I still don’t know how
To make that perfect roti
And manage my retirement fund
And pay my EMIs
And manage to find a job
That doesn’t make me
Tear out my hair
Drown a little everyday
Give up my dignity just a little more
Within these corporate walls
Closing in, closing in.

I’ll stop when I no longer
Feel guilty about sitting
In a women’s compartment
A ladies seat
A ladies special
Or worse
For taking up space
In a general dabba
Which men choose to believe
Is now for men
For why do girls bother entering
When they have a place of their own
Ironic, wouldn't you say
Since the only reason we need that place
Is because your hands decide
To nonchalantly not stay your own.

I’ll stop when I no longer
Need to share my Uber details
Need to carry a pepperspray
Need to worry about what I say
Need to hide my night time escapades
My clothes, my choices
My brains.

You tell me to stop
So instead I type
For what else can I do
Except fight a little
Every day
My way
And hope
That one day
You won’t tell me
To stop
This mahila morcha
This feminist crap
That one day
I won't need to
And this world will be fine
And I’ll stop.

Friday, October 13, 2017


That feeling of hadness.
The inevitable low after the high.
That moment when everything is so beautiful, so perfect that you walk around with a smile on your face. But it falters, by just a fraction, as you begin to feel the tiny weight of a nagging feeling, tugging at a corner of your heart you’d have preferred stayed in the dark.
But the feeling grows, feeding off of your happiness, slowly but surely.

The feeling of hadness.
The feeling of fairy lights and balconies and perfect moments.
Moments never meant to be, moments that won’t be.
The feeling trying to tell you, that the happiness you feel right now, will soon be something you had.

The feeling when you wonder
Is this the last hug, the last look, the last smile.
The feeling that this will all be over.
The feeling warning you
To steel yourself
For the emptiness ahead.

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