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Melting lip


I yearn for melting lip, and watered saliva,

don’t tell anyone I never kissed,

naked skin curling on the white sheet,

foot flailed off and dangling in the air,

stroking our skins,

I long for footsie,

anticlimax,

come babe on the driving seat,

steer my wheel,

untie the bra,

show me what real, raw sex is,

murder the virgin in me,

hit the electrifying speed,

orgasmic high,

press your knee on my chest,

don’t caress gently,

press your knee with force,

make it violent,

neck on neck,

stomach,

down,

make me hard inside,

go down on me,

I lick you,

you are the queen,

i am your slave,

yes mistress,

take me higher inside the pleasure den!

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Unblemished land where civilization waned!


flocking above the bonfire,

sprawling trees and dense forests,

eluding human sights,

the fauna unblemished by greed,

corrupt minds,

seeds of destruction unsown,

gentle tapping of water,

the silver clean lake,

is a miracle,

warding off ghouls,

polluted shreds,

decayed materials,

rotten food,

a mess intimidated by nature’s benevolence,

this undiscovered gem of a universe,

where once thrived the lost civilization,

wiped for a reason,

we can breathe free,

no flesh dare enter,

a prayer shall never remain unanswered,

reclaiming the perfection of the deserted,

disappearing at a looming distance,

where no head is spotted,

pray for this pristine land.

 

Love

V

 

 

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An intoxicated love


Wound piercing the heart,

is my pleasure,

obsessed with the arrow,

bruising my soul,

laughing at your ruthlessness,

i shall smile at the unrequited,

shedding tears of blood,

passion to indulge in self pain,

tearing every shred in the nerves,

kill me,

you shall,

the lover in me hath no fury,

curse is no love,

unfulfilled vows,

i shall break them all,

for am beyond pain,

kissing the bruises,

every scar bears your name,

seeking pleasure in torment,

intoxicated in your absence,

longing for you,

completes me,

who says love kills!

painting your name,

an artist of love,

you are my brushstroke.

 

Love

V

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Wielding multiple doors open


Destination is boundless,

madness forever alive,

the wait fraught with obstacles,

the doer went through tribulations,

never said no,

a bumpy route,

the time has come,

laughing at misery,

a sweetened taste,

feeble smile it may,

for there may be signs of victory,

not euphoria,

for the door that closes,

a labyrinth,

wielding multiple doors open,

weapon slaying happiness,

sorrow is passion,

for it never harms,

makes the mind complete.

 

Love

V

 

 

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Day 9: Waist waist ki baat


The feeling of waking up fluttered and no plan to rush into anything. Yeah! Right! It’s Saturday. Woke up post 9 a.m! Ideal waking up time for am not this morning person at all. I won’t call it giddy sensation but made a cuppa chai, then a second cup guzzled down the throat, watching some songs on YouTube to wonder what’s up next.

Some days are like that only and it’s not that I was complaining but somehow, something was missing and started aimlessly with reading some blogs but back to the bed slouching doing nothing. The perk is that I had my first smoke at 5 p.m only and means about ignoring the fag without side effects. I had the first one with wine and finally wrapped up with Karan Johar’s latest Netflix show What the Love which is all about hooking up singletons, pushing them to fall in love. I love it totally.

The pleasure of just chilling out and doing zilch does wonder to the brain. Try it sometimes. Breathe the fresh air wafting in and maybe, jot something in the diary or like am doing on this post. No brief outline but writing effortless has its dollop of fun. Life must be like that or creating expression out of thin air is pure, unadulterated fun. I love chaos on a normal day, something hasn’t experienced for long and the antidote is the stillness.  In an entire lifetime, never planned for anything and things just happened which is something cherished over time, be it travel, career or education. A tale of just packing luggage to fly. Just imagine, how thrilling and exciting it must be for globe trotters. I envy them like hell.

A little bit planning takes place in my life, just like now but hates how it haunts me to no end. One thing I never liked is changes taking place or this whole jazz of pushing me against the wall that kills every second. The universe gotta be kinder for the organic way of living be it changes or otherwise that works just fine for my mental sanity. Is there something that I miss! Yes! I accept that the past sores me and that one romantic relationship missing where got myself to blame for overtime turning rigid. Now, don’t ask me to over analyze! Granted, overthinker defines me in more than one way but that’s not how things have been planned or for that matter panned out.

Right now, I ain’t thinking anything, the past, present or future or the imbibed complex mind how once a friend described me. A sense of peace is pervading and a rarity to cherish. You know, such moments come rarely nowadays but I know tricks shall be conjured sooner for something huge for me has been in offing and will reach fruition very soon. Routine can be predictable and makes sense to avoid imagine how it will spread out. For fuck sake, my life is not cheesy. A tale of too many and time a bitch.

The old, discarded jeans and trousers are in such a good shape where often going back to retrieve them is quite a hobby. Revisiting them is a great exercise and a sharp reminder of a decade lived, remembering the fancy for the striped grey trousers in those days. It was one of my favorites and still looks crisp over the years. A couple of jeans and the favorite trousers have a common, motivating factor.  Guess what! I was size 32 and over 10 years plus hit 34′. I wanna go back to 32′ and I will. It starts from tomorrow only and come talk to me towards the year end. I will tell my waist size. Waist waist ki baat hain!

 

 

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Fiction: Chancing on love…she says yes


Churchgate Station was jampacked in the evening. Eyes darted towards the yellow and brown painted train stationed on platform No.1 unmoved. A berserk crowd zigzagged, running amok to catch the local, swerving left and right in this sweltering heat percolating. Maddening honking of cars, cabs and buses outside the station deafened ears.

Arushi sat on the white bench wearing tortoise glasses and bag slung on her shoulder. Eyes darted left and right. A couple of roadside Romeo slowed and galloped in front of the bench to catch her attention. She was uninterested with the unwanted attention and eyes fixed on her mobile phone, checking Tinder and Twitter. Plodding hesitatingly on her steps, she entered the train and slouched on the berth, gazing past the station and the tiny, rut steel window giving a view of the busy road.

The break up did her good last night. She faked tears and watched him walk away on the deserted Andheri street. She could breathe free and closure happened after a year-long relationship ended, convinced that she is not into something new. The reverie was broken by a tall guy who almost jerked her off the comfort to plank himself next to her. “Can I sit here,” he asked. She smiled and wondered. “You already sat, dude.”

He was restless and fiddling with her fingers as if counting the number of times he got laid. Arushi was unaffected by his presence. “Hey, I’m Kundan,” he stammered. “So, you expect me to do your Janam Kundali and telling you the name of your future wife,” she let off. Silence engulfed. Kundan didn’t know where to look. She concatenated into riotous laughter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Ok! Kundan what do you do?”

“Right now, I am sitting next and trying hard to woo you. Hey, game for coffee. I know it’s crazy right. This train goes to Andheri, straight away,” he jested. She was flustered for a while. “Oh! Gosh! Not again Andheri after this break. My life is silly…. he wanna ask me out.”

“Okay! But five minutes.” She cursed herself for saying yes on this strange date. Who does that! Something is terribly wrong with me, she thought. The train slowly ambled past Churchgate and hit speed past Marine Lines and Charni Road. The train moved at jet and words lost like thin, smoked air filling the city’s lungs.

She walked. He followed. Settling on the sofa at Barrista, cold coffee was served on a plastic tray. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she guffawed. “Why are guys so like that?”

“You mean like what?” he casually countered. “Ok! I am a freelance kinda jobless writer sitting at home, admiring the skies and speak to a girl only if she blows my mind.” Arushi tossed her head, “Arre Bhagwan! I am not Menka and by your looks, not a torn jeans and faded t-shirt Vishwamitra. I am a fashion designer. Okay! No offense Kundan. You are such a fashion disaster. Fashion designer by the way.” He was confused for awhile. “You mean, You and not me”

“Well! I am One. We are not speaking about Rohit Bal and Anamika Khanna.” Both went silent and uncomfortable. She asks for a pen and jotted a 10-digit phone number on the paper napkin. She jerked off the sofa and picked her bag, “Since you asked me out, foot the bill, will you! It’s just coffee. Call me, I gotta rush.” He was taken aback and looked flustered, “When are we gonna meet next?”

“Call me. I ain’t saying tomorrow. Agar kismet mein hain hum toh definitely milenge,” she flitted past the crowd to disappear. Kundan eyes searched for her but lost the sight of this mystery woman he just took out, traveled together inside a sweaty local train and a posh cafe. The calls were blithely ignored. Dozen miss calls. He behaved like a jerk. Arushi’s phone was out of coverage. Kundun tossed right, left on the bed, spent blank nights with eyes tossing towards the ceiling fan. “Is it love,” he cursed himself. The saccharine old 70, 80 and 90s songs played on radio Mirchi in his car to beat the crazy Mumbai traffic did him no good. Was it the end of it? he asked. Perhaps, it was time to move on and he did. Routine crept in.

Rain lashed to the sway of barricade arrows in the city and the pavement, roads were washed out, with residents tootled awkwardly in a thatch of mud. Chaos reigned at the railway station flocking inside the train ambling slowly. Kundan stepped carelessly, brushed past passengers when he collided into someone. It was her. They couldn’t believe what they just saw and gaped with eyes wide open. “You want to sit,” she sheepily says. “I tried calling you zillion times but you wouldn’t pick up the phone,” he whined. The train has stopped at a standstill for an hour.

“I mean, I know, right. The ex before I met you called and wanted to get back. I was so stupid but then called it off. Waise, I left Mumbai….oh! No! It’s not feeling right. I am lying now. Ok!” She cleared her throat, “I was confused and dunno what to do, there was you and him. Finally, wanted to space out in my personal zone. You didn’t look for me, by the way and now see.”

“I am sorry Arushi…should have checked the cafe we went in.”

“You see, I was there yesterday hoping to see you. You know what, a horrible lover you’ll make. Waise dhoondne mein bhi Bhagwan milta hai,” she chirped in.

The train chugged slowly. In the heat of the moment, Arushi looked instantly into his eyes and faces cakes at the cusp of each other. Kundan moved his lip. She gently laid her head pressed to the metal grilled window. He moved slowly and forgetting every hesitation, lips curled into each other, caressing her jet black hair, kissing instantly. She murmured softly into his ear, “Let’s give love a chance.” He smiled, “Love is what we need, gently, slow and like this fast local.” The train swerved in speed on the railway track. Speck of rain flicked on their hair and face. Love has never felt so effortless and icy.

 

Love

V

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Day 8: For the love of it! What the heck!


Oxymoron is sort of jilted. Pretty much like red wine spilled on the floor and mistaken for blood, wherein a little intensity mistaking it for love. Relationships are too much adoptive these days, pretty much like the dreaded word effortlessly flitted these days F for fuck, not literally, course. I mean, the L for Love. The reluctance to get out of our comfort for the fear of being zoned out to click the push button, saying Yes, we wanna explore with the relationships we make, the break-up phase and unloving to love again. You see, it’s an itsy bitsy like learning and mate, we need skills to love or being in a relationship.

Image credit: Google.

Everyone is on Tinder, nowadays! What the heck! Ok! Cupid! Speed Dating and right, not everyone but many of us swiping right and left for we are looking for something. A momentary kinda fling kinda one-night stand. Conversation over romance or relationships, any takers?! Everyone is bored of existence, job, routine sex-yeah you read this right, getting over an ex-looming at the back of the brain and desperate moment to tie the knot for whatever reason. You see, this comfort we prefer sink in and insecurity. I say, why marriage and not a live-in relationship, a love thrill adventurous journey ever ready to face yourself in the mirror, living on the edge, the cusp of love, serious relationship or a harmless thing, all interwoven.

It’s not about February 14 and read it in reverse for you to make the joy of moron capitalism, marketeers and malls selling you fake bullshit Valentine tale. Hey! I ain’t saying it coz am forever single, confused about ready to mingle and 10,000 silly questions raging in the mind. Am I look for a relationship? Hell! No! I am just incredibly blown about that thing called love which exists in various forms. Like Karan Johar would say, What the Love! I mean, where you find it! Not sold in the market place! A natural thing to put barriers and protect us from this virus. It’s Love and not Corona, baby. How many among us would leave everything and gobble free air all for the sake of love! I am not even making a point but wondering about the various shades of love. This heartbeat exists in many forms and except, we are not aware. Friendship is love, holding hands is love, intimacy is love, one-night stand is love. Yeah, don’t be such a prude.

The many ifs and buts have commonplace. What if it doesn’t work out? So, what! The next one might! Or, take it as an experience of the many relationships making the person, learning from the hurt, shed tears and walk out of it. No guarantee you shall walk out or be confined in a relationship unscathed. The shadow might lurk for a long time and ghosting emotions about unrequited or terrible breakup and praying to get out or fucking moving on. Is it worth it! Honestly, I don’t know about the perks and changing equation of a love affair. Perhaps, overthinkers should just close their eyes and brains to go with this flow of romance. But, please, no over romanticism, ideal sexualism and swiss alps romance and happy ending the Yash Chopra way.

I honestly feel that we make too much about love, pretty much like Karan Johar, the Chopra and SRK have screwed up love, not to say Hindi films. Nor is love Kabir Singh espousing beating a woman. Since when violence is alluring and sexy. Toxic can never be a sign of love. Why get in a relationship peeling our respective identities raw! And this entire compromising or kinda I love him and he will change coz loves me is all fucked up emotions.

The dichotomy of feeling and pent up emotions complete the love, wearing blinkers at times and the free flow of expressions seems choked. Like the mirror on Indian bikes, objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. Love is often like this mirror we choose to see things. It’s our perceptions on the relationships we make or imagined in our minds. Valentine or not, there is no rush to get into something, unconvinced at times. Better still, just go with the flow. Such feelings can be half baked and pretty much like marriage or dating with everyone getting into the bandwagon. Just because the crowd is getting into something, I say just chill to go with the flow.

 

Love

V