After-all

I said goodbye, finally. I ripped the band-aid just to find that the wound healed the minute I ripped it out. Just like Schrodinger's cat/box... I had to check beneath the band-aid to see if the wound had healed or was it still bleeding. I just see a little scar now, a tiny little mark which I plan to keep. It is mine after-all. 

And I am happy for myself.! 

Punched

I feel like I was punched,
punched hard in the chest.
And while I was crying in pain,
you walked away, simply, effortlessly.

The F word

I wonder why do so many people view feminism so skeptically. Why has the term come to be associated with unreasonableness. Why do so many people want to take a liberal stand and call themselves humanists, egalitarians and other equally hazy words? One cannot understand human rights unless one knows what does it mean to have rights violated. Rights do not function in the abstract, they have to be claimed. What is a right if not claimed? I think, it is necessary for people to align themselves to a particular vantage point to truly understand the way in which marginalization operates. Because marginalization is not an abstract concept, it is the lived reality of people who are forced to live without dignity and respect and food and water and shelter.

Feminism is not a lifestyle choice. Feminism is not anti-men. Feminism is not for the elites.

Feminism is pro-women. Feminism makes space to address the gendered realities that hierarchically colour social relationships. Feminism is after all for everyone.

No, this is not a rap song.

What will you do, when I am in front of you and we have to speak of something you find uncomfortable?

Will you close your eyes?

Will you turn away?

Will you not listen to what I have to say?

Will you just walk away? and leave me standing there?

I’ll hold your hand and then we will jump right out

Love is....

Love is...

fish curry and rice cooked by my mother.

(I totally overeat when I am home)

Dream (House)

I had a dream that we were in some house.
It was not your house, neither was it mine.
There it was, a house made up of parts of different houses I have seen.
A table from my one, a door from another, a window from someplace else.
In that house, there was a bed, the bed from your house.
Just because of that bed, even though, it was not your house, in my dream it was.