They are all travelers
Some of them travel alone
But aren’t they the best sellers?
The ones that miss the scent of his cologne?

womenTwo’s a company, three’s a crowd
So why not just let him be mine?
How I wish over them was a shroud
Oh, did that run a chill down your spine?

Can you blame me though
for it is I who deserves to be with him
He is my beau
why do they all act and dress so prim?

In the end, they are still travelers maligned
Traveling and halting at destinations
Between his heart and mind
well, there’s no point anyway, since they failed in their period of probation

Their painted lips
Shadowed eyelid
Do not come between us as an eclipse
Neither does their seductive stance which is not worth a quid

Their eyes travel the length of my valentine
Sniff out his freshly laundered apparel
Well, through my eyes that’s a victimless crime
For I know their thoughts are lewd and feral

I have no mercy for these travelers
Who travel with a conscience to thieve his love
Sure, each traveler’s performance is stellar
But sadly, they realized too late it was a futile shove

For he came here to be mine alone
To turn my tears to laughter
Saved all his love for me, nothing could he loan
Knew that there was no one he’d rather go after

So, what happened about the travelers you ask?
Well, they travel on
Of course, their hurt they mask
but they travel on to their next pawn



A Road Accident That I Witnessed Today

With the lockdown going on, it gets difficult to get out to shop for groceries. The best time to do so is between 7 and 8 in the morning. That’s when the fresh vegetables come in the market, fresh milk packets are sold, and when I can take the bike out without getting caught by the police (because neither do I have a license nor a helmet – which I intend on getting once the lockdown ends).

I went for the first set of shopping – vegetables. I got home and mum said she wanted to have bread and a good sausage omelet. But we’d been out of bread for a few days; so I stepped out again to figure where I could get bread from. I stopped at the regular supermarket, but they blatantly gave me stale bread. I demanded the fresh bread that just came – I mean I saw the bread truck unloading a whole load of fresh bread, but they said the fresh bread was for another store and gave me the option of either taking the stale bread or nothing. I was in a dilemma. Mum wanted bread and I had to get it for her – but I was not that desperate to buy old bread. I walked away and decided to go further to another supermarket. Luckily I got bread there and I was on my way back home when I saw a crowd had gathered in the middle of the road ahead.

I knew instantly there was a mishap (obviously). As I rode nearer to the crowd, I saw two bikes lying on the road. The bikes were upturned and the wheels were still whirring and whizzing, but the riders were not to be seen. I inched closer and saw that one of the bike riders was lying on the road, motionless. He wore a red t-shirt and black pants. I panicked. Everyone was panicking. He was dead – or so it seemed. Until a few minutes later he opened his eyes and looked straight at me. I flinched and was instantly filled with a  feeling of guilt. A range of emotions sped through me – fear, relief, anxiousness, and helplessness.

By God’s grace, he gradually gained consciousness and people were trying to help him up. I wanted to tell them to stop moving him around in quick, jerky movements. But I was transfixed to the spot. As they tried to lift him up, I saw a pool of blood had accumulated under his head. He was bleeding profusely. Then I saw the second rider. He was hovering over the bruised rider and was probably praying to God that the former had survived the crash. The second rider has scraped his face, but he was fine.

I started my bike and rode on towards home. What could I do there anyway? I would just be contributing to the roadblock. Neither was I being productive, nor helpful. And that’s when the realization struck. It’s so easy for us to always blame onlookers when an accident takes place. As news readers, video watchers, and the like,  we always say “that guy/girl could have helped out”. But that’s not true. We will never know what emotions the onlooker is going through; what their speedbumps are and what their limitations are.

I got home and handed over the bread to mum and started thinking. Shit happens all the time to everyone. We all think that we are going through hell, but the fact is that everyone goes through the same share of shit every day. This is exactly why we have to be thankful for all the small mercies in life.

#happy for all the good things I have been given by God!


Does My Mother Miss the Touch Of a Man?

momMy mum divorced my dad 2.7 decades back. My father slept around with numerous women – friends, relatives, hoes. He eventually left us to hook up with a prostitute. I never understood that. My mum was the perfect wife – but I guess being the perfect wife doesn’t count. He loved sleeping around with women. When my mum confronted him, he brazenly said: “I need variety”.

The irony was that the prostitute was also a lawyer and she got my parents divorced. Mum tried her best to make the marriage work for 14 years until one night she told dad to get out of the house. He was shocked. He never thought she would say that. He thought he’d threaten her and responded, “I will leave.” Mom looked straight into his eyes and said: “The door is right there.” After he left that night, he never turned back or returned home. Mum heaved a sigh of relief. She was done being a part of a verbal, physical, and emotionally abusive marriage.

From 1992, she’s been single. And I wonder, does she miss being with a man? I am sure she does. Ever since I became an adult, I have had several flings. Now that I am married, I think about her all the time and the fact that she doesn’t have a partner. I wonder what it must be like to have no sex, no caresses, no hugs, no reassurances, no moral support, no laughter, no good times with your better half. It must be so sad for her.

But all she looks forward to is seeing me, being with me, going on adventures with me, and having the time of her life with me. Recently, an old flame of hers reached out to her and seems like he’s been trying his best to rekindle the magic between them. But for some reason, she isn’t interested anymore. I wonder why. She told me he was the first love of her life and shared her first kiss with him. I was ecstatic when I heard he reached out to her. I started dreaming. Dreaming of her reuniting with him, meeting him, seeing her be happy with a man, seeing her blush. I always fantasize about being able to rewind time. If I could, it would be for her to not get married to my dad, but to someone that she loved, so she could live a beautiful life.

I want her to be happy. I mean, it’s not like she was the best mother. She was by far the worst that any child could have. I know this seems out of place, considering what I have written above. Though that is indeed true. But seems like I have Stockholm. That’s what my friends say. Maybe they are right. Because why would someone love her mother so much after she was beaten black and blue for 28 years by her mother? 

Whether it is Stockholm or genuine love, I don’t know. But I do want to see my mother be happy. Will that be possible? I don’t know. I sure do hope for good times for her. I hope that she gets to go on dates and have the time of her life. I try my best to make her happy, but having a better half cannot be compensated with anything else. 

#life is tough for many


downloadI said ‘hey
You said ‘che’
I asked you what’s ‘che’
You said in Argentina it meant ‘hey

I laughed and walked along
You smiled and turned away
I thought I heard you hum a song
I was ecstatic and gay

This was our daily routine
And I thought we must take it ahead
So I asked you out when you wore that old jean
You said yes and I blushed red

We went to a quaint cafe
Spoke about topics that were fun and light
This is what we did all-day
Then you took me to a lounge in the night

I said ‘hey
You said ‘che’
You still looked handsome with your hair quite grey
A bright day that was in May

It’s just been three years
But you looked like you aged by ten
Your paunch showed you had one too many beers
But I thought you still looked attractive then

You asked me, “Who’s the lucky one?’
That was what I wanted to know about you
I said ‘None’
You looked shocked like you had no clue

We walked and you looked at me questioningly
I looked back and raised my eyebrows
You asked me tenderly
” Why didn’t you exchange those vows?”

I said, “You never asked”
You said,” I didn’t know”
I replied,” You should have asked”
You replied,” I’d love to be your beau”

Now a year has passed since then
I can’t imagine where you possibly are
I hope you are fine, amen!
Though we are marred by an invisible scar

What happened four years ago and three after
I do not want to talk of
You brought me great love and laughter
That the jealous would scoff

Too precious were those moments
I feel if I say them out loud, I might in some manner jinx them
You never told me you too were fervent
If only you’d have told me you thought I were a gem

I know we’d have been a success story
Right now, we’d probably be in bed together
Basking in our marriage of glory
Savoring our kisses in this romantic weather

I know thinking of what’s not there is futile
But I love dreaming of what could have been
Oh, trust me! I’m not senile
Why are tears running down my quivering lips and chin?

I know I have to get over you
It will be difficult, but I must
My second chance with you I blew
But know that for you I had love, not lust

I get out of the home to take a walk down our lane
And I see that guy we met from downtown
He was in a cafe… I could see him through a pane
He saw me, on his face came a frown

He was probably thinking why I looked so familiar
Then he jumped up and came running out
He greeted me with cordial cheer
I wondered what this was all about

I said ‘hey
He said, ‘oye’
I asked him what is ‘oye’?
He said in Spanish it meant ‘hey

I smiled and I know its rude, but I walked away
I better get home, the sky turned grey
He went back into the cafe
Done with men who can’t say ‘hey

“Be Kind”, said Ellen DeGeneres

ellenNews sites have been rife with news of how ‘kind’ Ellen has been. Hasn’t she? She’s given thousands a life worth living. She’s given millions of dollars across the 17 seasons. Yet, now people say that she is not what she claims to be. Do we believe that? Yes, we do. Because as viewers, the audience in her show, and takers of her generosity, we don’t know what happens backstage.

So when people working for her say that she’s mean, when not one, but a whole load of them say she is not what she displays, we do have to take a step back and ponder over that. Now here’s something that I think about when I read the news. Ellen lived a difficult life. She lost her girlfriend whom she lived with, she went through her own set of hardships, and it took immense strength, courage, and balls to get back in the limelight, tell the world you are gay at a time when no one spoke about in hush-hush tones either, and then rise to a stature of – whom do I quote here?  I don’t know.

I think the success and life she built for herself is commendable and cannot compare to anyone else’s. But here’s what I think. I believe that behind that whole mask of telling the world to be compassionate and kind is a complete set of raw emotions, ones she can never get over. All those pent up emotions (I know she became quite vocal about her thoughts, but who’s to say she has spoken about them all?) from all her years of difficulties is what makes her a version of Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde. There’s a part of her that wants to do so much for the world because of the difficulties she’s been through in life. But it’s also those same difficulties and mockery she was a victim of that makes her a particular mean monster that people claim she is.

Come to think of it, aren’t we all like that? We all are at the end of the day human. If Nikkie from Nikkie Tutorials thought she deserved to be welcome with a whole lot of drama and fanfare, why should she? Has she done anything that people at a higher position who have been on the Ellen show have done? I don’t think so. I know this sounds very blase, but people like Obama, Michelle Obama, Jennifer Aniston, etc., come on the show and are so humble that it melts your heart to see humility in its essence.

What I am trying to say here is, an incompetent employee is bound to piss anyone off. Is the whole Ellen crew saying she sucked? No. Just some nincompoop who couldn’t impress her enough to gain her attention. So what? Big deal.

There’s bigger shit happening in the world now, and we are trying to drag someone like Ellen into the mud? That’s so not cool, I tell you. So do we believe she’s mean? Maybe she is, but does it matter? The amount of good she has done – be it for popularity or genuine concern – is enough to override all her meanness. Agree?

#Move On 

There IS Always Room for Improvement. Is There?

roomIn every angle of life, there is room for improvement. Be it cooking a meal – you could have overcooked it or undercooked it, or added more spices or less. Be it being a supportive friend – you could have said more and got your friend pumped for obstacles or said less so that your friend didn’t feel like a dimwit. You could be attending an interview, where you could have impressed your interviewer with a slew of vocabulary out of the dictionary or knowledge taken off Wikipedia or said less and made it clear that you are not pompous because apparently, less is more. 

The fact is that there is always room for improvement. Now the other side of this coin is that whatever you do, you will regret your choices. Sooner or later, you are going to wonder why you made that choice. You will brainstorm and think, why didn’t you give a task your best shot? In a state of thrill, we all think our decision-making capacity is the best. In a state of ennui, you question all the choices you make. 

Then from where does the need for room for improvement come? Does it come from a logical frame of mind,  feedback from people, or does it arise based on your mood? 

#Just Wondering

Tigers. Tigers. Tigers.

Just like you have nightmares, I do too. In the past, it used to be very frequent. But for some reason, my nightmares have reduced drastically. I don’t dream much. Even the good ones have stopped. I used to have beautiful dreams too. It reminds me of how men’s sperm quality goes down as they age. Weird. I know.

At one point, I used to dream every day. These days it’s just darkness as soon as I shut my eyes every night, and the next thing I know, it’s morning. But the one thing that remains constant is my nightmares that have tigers in it. Most of the nightmares I have has to do with tigers chasing me. Some of the tiger dreams are:

  • A tiger has been let loose in the locality
  • There’s a tiger in my house
  • A tiger is chasing me in the snow
  • A tiger is trying to enter my home and I am running frantically to shut and seal all entry points of my house.

Earlier, ghosts plagued my nightmares, but of late, it’s tigers. I can’t imagine why.

I am a massive fan of dreammoods. While a lot of people say interpreting dreams is a whole load of shite, I have had my dreams interpreted here, and it mostly made sense, at least 80% of the time. But when it came to trying to figure out why I dream of tigers chasing me or attacking me, I could never find the right interpretation. I mean, I am petrified of animals –  no offense to the animal lovers – but I just am. I am scared, shitless. Lions and tigers scare me. The thought of them makes me shudder, but that doesn’t explain my recurring tiger dreams. Trust me; they are horrifying.

Having said that, though, my brother always says that he loves nightmares. Wild, right? He says it’s okay because when he wakes up, he realizes that life is beautiful. Hmm. I guess there are so many ways of interpreting the good and evil.

#makes me wonder

When Your Blood Group Is B+ But You Just Can’t Be Positive.

We have people all around us harping about the importance of being positive. If you are down in the dumps, be positive. If you are going through hell at home, be positive. If you don’t have a job, be positive. If you are ill, be positive. If you are struggling at work because your teammates suck, be positive.

But does that work? The answer is a big hard NO.

Even the ones who yak about being positive go through massive phases of negativity. Because that’s what negativity does. It seeps through those little crevices of apprehension and creates havoc. Then gradually hell opens up and your mind is ablaze with self-doubt, loathing, and you know the drill.

So yeah, telling someone to be positive is just not the right thing to say, because you will never know the troubles the person is going through, just as no one will know the hardships you have gone through in life.


Another Attempt at Writing.

download (1)For years I have wanted to maintain a blog where I can write what’s on my mind without family tutting at my thoughts. I tried to do so too. I opened blogs on different platforms and tried to keep up with the writing. I gave writing a try many a time but in vain. Not because I was not interested. Simply because I never have time. I hate to sound cliched but it is indeed true that a woman never has time for herself.

There’s so much to do in a day, especially if you are married. Would you agree? 

But I have a renewed sense of indignation, where I feel like I need to spare some time for myself and invest in something for myself. After all, this is probably the only place where I can be myself, say what I want, and let go of all inhibitions.

Well, cheers to me!