MiNd MiNiNg

From time to time, I mine. Occasionally a gem shows up, but most of the times, it’s just dirt. 

• I see people taking a leak, by the roadside. I see men whistling out, as a girl walks by. And I think to myself, whatta wonderfool world!
• Never have I felt more alone than when I am with you, said rubber to glue. #BullshitRhymes
• My autowallah to another autowallah "Abey kitna dabayega be?"
• I'm not rude. People are stupid.
• Biological waste happens.
• Smiles to go before I weep.
• Dear lord! When will the fascination with being a hipster become mainstream?
• I like your perfume. Smells like trouble.
• If you're happy and you know it, put a goddamn smiley face! I'm not a mind reader.
• I love your curves, especially the one on your face.
• I'm not a hipster. I care. If caring is mainstream. So be it.
   

 

Supernova

Even at my best I'm worst with you. Maybe it's me and my self consciousness and how I'm putty in your hands. 

Maybe it's your radiance, your faint realisation of the effect you have on my sorry heart.

Maybe it's your deliberate, reckless manipulation of the ground beneath my feet so that I'm consistently, helplessly at your mercy. 

Maybe it's my masochism, my hopeless need to please you, betraying every last ounce of my feministic ideals.

Maybe, just maybe, you're my supernova. My power, my pleasure, my pain.

Para, para, paradox

Dont tell me to wish on shooting stars, if wings are not on the list.
Dont tell me it's a part of who we are, and then ask me to control it.

Come on baby light my fire

Someone died today, I know it. The air is heavy with sorrow

I saw the burning embers, bits of crumbling memories, succumbing to the flames

I saw the rising fumes, and the sweet heady odor

The dark room, the loud music – feels like a funeral alright

The whiskey laden breath spew curses at me

The shaky dank hands point and fling in tandem

I dodge the bullet, I mean the ash tray  

Pick my way around the broken bits of glass

The abuses get louder, more awful, but nothing I haven’t heard already

And then I found the corpse, my soul, withered and mutilated

*sigh* such wasted rescue effort
So I left, slashing the gas pipe on my way out

Balika Buddhu

I’d like to believe we live in a progressive Indian society. A society where women have equal rights, homosexuality is tolerated and live-in relationships are not uncommon. However, while on one hand, Indian women are launching space shuttles and conducting cutting-edge research, on the other hand, Indian T.V. channels are airing programmes with a social agenda that set us back several decades. Of all the preposterous shows on air, the one that unnerves me the most is Balika Vadhu. The show, as the name suggests, deals with the issue of child marriage. At first, I convinced myself that the reason the government was letting the show air was because they expected it to portray child marriage in bad light. But, as it turned out, the show not only glorified child marriage but also condemned the one person who makes his displeasure evident about the custom, the husband of the ‘balika vadhu’. Despite this, the show has been running to packed houses, or in this case, living rooms, for over 3 years now. TAM ratings have put the show on the top spot for several months in a row, and the show has even won awards. I wonder, at what point is the audience going to realise that the show is an insult to their intelligence? How is it that the government has allowed a TV show that promotes a social evil as monstrous as child marriage to be broadcast for 3 years running? And lastly, whatever happened to the social responsibility of mass media?

God’s A Kid With An Ant Farm

Come to the edge love, come look down
Come watch my creations all playing clown

Watch what happens when i pull this thread
One by one, they all drop dead