It’s not as if we are not aware

Neither are our senses dumbed

But truth be told

For what holds faith

The peace that we have known

The imperfect order that was restored

A refusal to accept

That the world we know is in turmoil

For what it may hold true

For the comforts we possess

Netflix and chill, Books and wine

That the imperfection is falling

And yet chaos engulfs us


Sit, talk, Protest, Fight, Seek, Refuge

A refusal to accept

That all is on fire

For what was peace, we have known

Except havoc in the hands of men


An all-boys club, that decides

For power they enjoy

That they held to heart

Unleash it and tell us

“Your children are dying”

But by whom, may we ask? You!

It has always been you, who told us fear!

Wreaked chaos, hatred, violence.

Listened to them, heeded them

Followed them, that we did.

History and now

Just an old-boys club


And here we are, in the midst of it

That we call war

But history calls death

And the wise call genocide

For power, for greed, for ambition


A healthy move

This may sound really cliché, but we have to accept it’s a thing every year, especially for those of us who have been single so long, we don’t even recall what it is like to actually be in a relationship. If I had to sum up my 2019, it has nothing been short of interesting. Call it a movie if you may, boring to the audience, but interesting to the writer, none the same. Tears, drama, romance, happiness, and some real contentment in self.

 Honestly, taking a break from seeking has been the best thing I have done to myself. Seeking really did translate to validation in my case, and I realized that all I was looking for was validation. Validation that I am good enough, validation that I am pretty, validation that I am sexy, no matter how desperate I was in vulnerability. Yes, vulnerability. That you get when people you have always loved call you eccentric, desperate, wannabe, and maybe, even untrustworthy. It makes you feel ugly, and hence you do really project ugliness. In my case, I did. I am not proud of it, and only I will know who and what I lost. It’s like being in a cocoon. A cocoon where there is only you, in a space that seemingly gives suffocation. In reality, it is what makes a caterpillar, a butterfly.

Have I become a butterfly, yet? No. Am I suffocated? Definitely. But had you asked me this question 6 months back, I would have screamed “I hate being where I am”. But now I can say, I am enjoying it. I know I am putting a lot of emphasis on it, but actually not seeking a steady relationship anymore, has made me feel really comfortable of being single and alone. When you seek, you so tend to lose the individuality of who you are and try to understand what they like/ dislike. For once, I am giving a lot of thought to what my own personal options are. Validation of choices and acceptance, coupled with low self-esteem is a bitch. Of course, I owe it to a certain friend. I wouldn’t be working on it if not for her.  It’s a popular saying, one thing leads to another, and here I am reading again. I may have pretended to redevelop the habit a year ago, but now I am just running to books in all directions. It’s like rediscovering them. Which brings me to patience. There are not enough books, but someone very wise said, read maximum 2 at a time. I then realized, I am not really doing justice to myself or those books, if I am run in all directions to them. Patience is a quality I lack. Call it genes, seriously. Lack of patience, makes for a reactive human. Repercussions of which I learned from Laxmi. Had she not reacted; she would have not even thought of forgiving her molester.

I know, this a lot of insight for a person who has achieved nothing save for passing an exam, and is already 25, but a teacher once said, “wise are those who learn from not only their mistakes, but the mistakes of others too”. Had I listened to him and paid heed, I wouldn’t have lost two friends in day.


 We have our stories. Every woman I have met has a story. Of how she was groped, molested, harassed, raped. But I have only heard the stories of us talking about it, making it okay to talk about it, fighting it, saying it is not okay. Of course, it is not. It never will be. How can it be okay, when the aftermath of it makes us feel dirty when it is the perpetrator who should be.  We should report it, of course we should. But among those told stories are some stories. The story that is similar to that of Laxmi.

Laxmi, a vivacious, funny woman. A woman with her own traumas. Not extreme, but none the same, there. Trauma she has been unable to come to terms with. She did confide in me once, now she hesitates. For you see, Laxmi liked to date. And she bears the burden of the fear. The fear of being told, “Oh you invited it, because you went out on a date with your ex. You let him pay. You called him back.  You did give him a good night peck on the cheeks.” The fear of being told that her no, which she said multiple times, was not enough for her ex to understand. That when she said she does not want him to kiss her on her lips, and that he was only permitted to give back a peck on the cheeks was not enough. Why? Because she had kissed him on the cheeks first. Was Laxmi really at fault? Well, society says she was partially at fault. Maybe she is. So, best keep hush.

But you know. Laxmi has a weakness. She pleads too much to the good side of a person. Naïve, I call her. Naïve to the point of being foolish. Because, Laxmi did get conned once. Not only of money, but her emotions. So, maybe she is at fault. So naïve, that the molester thinks it okay to try and contact her again. And again. And again. Despite being blocked everywhere. Why, you ask? To seek her forgiveness. For you see, Laxmi is naive. Just enough to entertain him. After 2 years, Laxmi yielded, and entertained him. Convinced, that he understood the gravity of what he had done. Or so he said. She almost forgave him. But then, how do you take away all the bad memories. The wounds that weren’t healed. She couldn’t forgive.

I want to know, what does Laxmi think now? After almost forgiving him, and not yielding? Is she disgusted? That she almost yielded. Is she proud? That though she almost did forgive him, she managed to realize, that some mistakes are not forgivable. And her naivety for once took a back step.