My eyes feast on your eyes,
Touch your lips and feel your throat throb
My head rests on your chest, then close to your heart
Ears devouring the beats making merry
Then escaping your hold my hair make way
For my eyes crawling to meet yours again
For I make merry doing this over and over again
Like music on loop, tripping and insane
Fumes of petty intolerance
Setting flames at war
She holds the tiny lamp in her palm
The warmth seeping into her scar
Her scar she hid from plain sight
Not darkness she sought for the wound
She carried the burning lamp on it, abright
The light, for the eye, a lampoon
An ode to the lamps
Shining. Almost blazing
Her eyes as she looks into one
Reminiscent. Almost tearing.
Yesterday when you had done this outrageous act, I had grabbed your hand, inspite of the heavy rush of people pushing me inside the metro, and pinched it hard. I AM SORRY I DIDN’T HURT YOU HARDER. If that wasn’t enough for you, I stared into your eyes for long, because it was impossible to use words in that moment of shock. But when i could find the words to ask you to refrain jabbing your hands around, POLITELY, you said that you were being pushed too hard by the crowd behind. How hard is it to understand clear clean language? Could only harsh, cuss words penetrate the unconcerned, uncivilised exterior of yours?! So, I AM SORRY I WAS POLITE.
How to behave in the metro 101 for you: DO NOT GRAB WHAT’S NOT YOURS! Whether that is a bag, a hand, or a butt belonging to, or attached with a body that does not belong to your creepy self. No, i am not going to ask you whether you have sisters or a mother or lady friends, and how you should be treating them, because i am sure they must be as clueless about this horrible trait of yours as I was yesterday in the metro. I AM SORRY THEY DON’T KNOW.
If you did not know this before, let me be crystal clear now. NO, IT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE TO GRAB MY BUTT BECAUSE YOU CAN SEE IT! It is highly offensive, humiliating, intrusive, demeaning, belittling and infuriating for you to do so! I AM SORRY I DID NOT SAY THIS YESTERDAY
I know that there will be a lot of minds buzzing with the question, “Why did you not take the Ladies’ coach during that hour?” To that, i have a few questions of my own. Does a special coach imply that the other seven coaches of the train are not available to me because i am a woman? Does it impair my right to enter a general coach because i am a woman who dared to do so during rush hour? Should a man not be expected to keep his thoughts, his hands and his private parts in control during a public commute?
I am SORRY that your behaviour has been outed on a public forum. I am SORRY that i did not share this last night itself. I am SORRY i will not tolerate this behaviour again. I am SORRY now women will think it’s okay to shout at disgraces like yourself.
I am SORRY, but I AM NOT SORRY.
– Fellow traveller. Woman. Human.
I confess, also lie to myself
‘Cause to myself I talk easy
I am oft fearless, also spontaneous
But I do too scare easy
I try to live, alone, also with others
But I do run away easy
I run like a horse, also a child,
‘Cause a child I am, easy
I am wild, carefree, also needy
But someone’s need I am, easy
I am a guitar, a flute,also a trumpet
But crass I become, easy
I stare, I fight, also I cry
But then I do care easy
I am a meshuggener, in hate, also in love
But then I do love easy
Complicated to you I may be, also others,
But for me, I am … Easy.
Relentless in your yearning to search
For a new meaning, a cause, a new self, your soul
You fight Loneliness, fear and the society
Grow alive, torn, injured and tolled
Your wild self outgrows your nest
It comes home only for days at stretch
You show no mercy to its call to you
So it slips through the fingers of the nascent you
What dare you call your nest now, love,
What dare run as smoothly as your fingers on its wiring
What dare you now call as your home
When the founding piece of your being is retiring