The Silence of My Voice

You tan my heart, as the sky flushes I licked the rain when your tears wouldn't feel wet anymore, Do you yearn only when you reach rock bottom, Or you remember that crookedness only for the way the light at dusk bounced off of it? You mislaid to sweep the debris of who you were, left on my bed last night, And, I stopped writing your story, not because I ended it, but because it was time, And, as you kept falling, it was quicker to imagine my life without you in ten minutes,  Than to wholly live them, The ratification for all that you feel, Your deprivation of compassion when the twigs let you go, Between the bosque, and the groves, The shrubbery, and the firewood, I hewed you out of my words, I blotted your skin with my ink, Give me something to scribble, give me something to scatter, I wore your moods, and I lugged your hopes, I dwelt on your dreams, and I walked atop your thorns, You hoped for love, knowing death still lurked, For you found this life every twilight, much les...

Last day. This is my fifth BlogMas. I didn't realize until today that I've been doing BlogMas for five years, out of the seven years that I've had this blog. 2018, and 2019 have been grating teachers. Which made this year, I reckon, a lot more personal, and arduous to put into words. This year has been a lot more about listening to myself, and accepting that it's okay to need, and ask for help. I've known flaws, and true intimacy. I've known comfort, and fear. I've known courage, and shamelessness. Everything from 2018 bled into 2019, and these two years just made for one excruciatingly long year. And, for all that these two years taught me, I can't wait for BlogMas 2020, and all that I'll be sharing here. It taught me that I can't go it alone always, though. You need people to salvage your story. We're unknowingly, and unhesitatingly playing a part in a lot of others, and we need to let others play their part. Aid that process, don't...

The law of attraction works only for what you want, not for what you need. My dreams are almost always more of a warning. We are always missing someone. Without fail. I regret not taking more pictures. If it feels like something is stopping you, really stop. And, breathe. I am a snob, and I'm okay with that. I still think people almost always never truly admit to their feelings, or surrender to them. I don't give up, and it's colossally unfruitful most times. I observe too much, and I remember too much. It's creepy after a point. I feel sorry too soon, and too unjustifiably. I love everything too easily. But, I don't fall in love with it. I have too many memories, too patented to share. Kissing helps. Always. I like people who bring out the worst in me. It's not a side I meet often. Nothing makes you appreciate your own company than a disastrous day. The fact that anyone needs healing, is not matter to be taken lightly. Never stop asking questi...

Hello. I had yearned, and sought to be a lot of things; some of them I became, some of them I realized I already was, some of them I didn't, and some, which weren't even a part of the list, but I morphed into anyway. And, one of them was a me, I didn't recognize. One that was furious with herself, for even rousing in the morning. There were days I found it crippling to be human. I wanted to mould a bubble, and be unattached from the world, for the time being. Even more gruelling is to be cemented in the conundrum of indecision to do whatsoever about it. These days felt as if my brains were being perforated with a corkscrew. Worse is the denial, about needing help. That denial is also about not having enough gall to admit to the ones closest to you, that you indeed do lack help. Which is problematic because after a point, you begin to believe in it vehemently. There were instances, though. Daily. On my way to work, or alone in a train compartment late at night. The mis...

Hello. For people who've been together for eons, I think the I-love-yous are just a stimulation. I don't think a lot of that has to do anything with the need to be loved. It's more to be cocksure that love still exists, as if there'll always, at least, be hope. There will always be some reserve fuel. Which makes me ponder, albeit different for everyone, what is that particular junction when people stop themselves from falling in love, and rather be in love. The point at which their self-esteem doesn't take a hit, at falling weak in front of them. The junction through which they resolve to compartmentalize their affections, and caching the residual. The junction when they build a mental barrier to make themselves, and the other person, that belonged together only in a certain period in the relationship, a souvenir. The verge of doom, after which they can never possibly fall back in love, or change the past.  The cusp when reached, they tell themselves, "Don...

Hello. For everyone who is still under the perception that the amendment is right in its place, and the people who, or whose parents were born before 1987, are safe, then riddle me this -  Imagine me to be belonging to a Muslim family in a rural setup. The kind where there's hardly any electricity, infrastructure, facilities. The kind where babies are still delivered by untrained, or uneducated doulas - but you get the picture. No hospitals or infrastructure means no birth certificates. No birth certificates means no proof of "ancestry", or citizenship. What happens to that Muslim family? Better yet, is that family, in this moment even aware of what's coming for them? This is just one scenario. I can hypothesise multiple others. So, somewhere, in the back of your mind, store it - people are out there in nipping cold, not for kicks. And, the places where the temperature isn't dropping, the circumstances have turned the air arctic. I was at India Gate,...

Hello. There's nothing much to say, and there's nothing much to share, The country is in peril, and it's still standing together. By the end of this year, this country might not be as we've known it anymore, But it'll still be ours. The hum of our mundaneness will soon return, But don't forget the fire in your belly you felt on being an Indian today. There'll be more things in life that you'll care about, But don't forget how much you potentially cared for this, for only you believed in it. They say the truth can't be concealed, So, remember that the world is standing with you. Those who say the truth, claim it with pride, Those who say the truth, have never had to hide, Only the wrongdoers will ever ask you for a chance, And, in an air pregnant with righteousness, how do they even survive? More tomorrow. Until then. Artist: Ryan Rumbolt Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, A.

सोचता हूँ कभी फुर्सत में, वह फ़ज्र की अज़ान से 'इशा की अज़ान तक, कहीं छुपी हुई बचपन में सर्दी के कोहरे से छटी हुई, वह कहानियाँ जो मैंने लिखी नहीं, उनको याद करता हूँ, पहली टूटी हुई नींद से पहली ईद तक, यादों में संभाली हुई दुनिया को याद करता हूँ | थी एक दुनिया जहाँ इंसान मिला करते थे, थी एक दुनिया जहाँ इंसान जिया करते थे, दिखते कुछ अलग तो नहीं थे, पर बातें ज़रूर किया`करते थे, कुछ आज कल मिलने वालों की तरह अधूरे वादे नहीं किया करते थे, बिना हाथ लिए बन्दूक, थोड़ी हँसी बाँट लिया करते थे , पड़ जाती हैं उंगलियों पर डंडे आज कल, भूल जाता हूँ कि दाएँ से बाएँ अब लिखा नहीं करते | अम्मी कहती है की उसे अब अम्मी न बुलाऊँ, लोग वरना ज़रा ज़्यादा घूरते हैं, कहती है एक कश्मीर था, याद करती है कि खूबसूरत था, कमाल की बात है पर, आज कल कुछ छन्नी जैसा ही दीखता है | सोचता हूँ कभी फुर्सत में, वह फ़ज्र की अज़ान से 'इशा की अज़ान तक, उन गुम्बद में नमाज़ के बाद, गूँजती हुई हँसियों को याद करत...

Did you enjoy watching the movie Rang De Basanti? Or Sarfarosh? How was Raazi? And, Uri? And, Mangal Pandey? Bhagat Singh? Roja? Bombay? 16 December? Remember all of them? Any similarity that strikes between all of them? They are movies based wholly, or loosely on riots, protests, and revolutions that have already happened in our country. Give it a couple of years, and you'll have 16 December 2.0, outlining everything that has happened. And, again, people will walk out of theatres feeling proud to be Indian, filmmakers earning hundreds of crores, but not utilising any of it to aid the people of the country who they keep portraying in the movies - because really the characters need to have a spine, and show some conviction, which the actors lack. That movie will also have an item number to keep the patriarchy alive. They'll show the villainous politician having a change of heart in the end for an expected Bollywood Happy Ending, because people need hope and th...

1969, Gujarat.  1980, Moradabad.  1983, Nellie.  1984, Delhi & Punjab.  1985, Gujarat.  1987, Meerut.  1989, Bhagalpur.  1989 Kashmir.  1990, Hyderabad.  1992, Bombay.  2002, Gujarat.  2013, Muzaffarnagar.  2019, India. I write this post from right to left today. I write it for my people. I write it for everything I stand for as an Indian - equality, diversity, secularism, democracy. Let's look at simple equations. students with paper boards and placards ≠ police with tear gas, ammunition, lathis students hiding in washrooms ≠ police detaining students in stations with no contact with world scared female students ≠ police sexually abusing female students Our Prime Minister is a man who was banned from the States for ten years, in the wake of 2002 riots. He is a man who was subjected to a decade-long diplomatic boycott by the Britain. The government in power right now is all of us who'd looke...

Hello. Just ten days to Christmas. 2015 was the first BlogMas year, while I was still in college, and through the years 2016-18, I was working. There was always a deadline, or a holdup with a few days every year. I used to post by a couple of days late, but I've always covered through the backlogs.(big wonk here, this is unhealthy)  This year, no pressure, no deadlines, no delays with the posts, and let me tell you this was more tedious than the previous ones because I've been steady. Daily blogging is no joke. There's been certainly more urgency in making sure there's enough ease for me to share as much as I can through the posts, everything that's been going on in my life for the year. When you miss a day, there's always an undertone of guilt you feel, while contemplating about the many things you wanted to write about. And, that indirect guilt made finding content to talk about relatively easier.  But, as the tradition of every BlogMas goes, I'l...

Hello. There are a certain kind of days to persist through, which change us as humans. Although, life-altering, there should be a special place in hell for the reasons all of us have had such days, inanimate or not. These happen to be the kind of days which you have to wing unescorted, regardless of how badly you itch for someone to just be present for their lenity. These also are the days, the degree of which really help you in registering certain relationships that are paramount for you to guard, for life. Energies, and connections work brilliantly, in that case.  It's not an indubitable thought that your emotions will always work in tandem with your energies, to accommodate them. But they'll never work against it. If you're alone, it's because it's elemental that you're indispensable for yourself first.  Looking back on the days in the past decade, or so, which I know have positively changed me as a person, the only inference I draw from it is how g...

Hello. There was a day when I felt bloated with everything that was going on around me, and I needed a release. So, I called my friend (read: Rookie), and asked him to tell me a song that would make me cry. I knew he would get why I, and in what disposition I was asking this favour of him. It was only a matter of time until I began weeping after listening to the song a few times. And, often, that's the virtue of music, the asymmetry of its comprehension. I listened to that song for about four times in a row, and each time it reminded me of something different, it made me feel something different, and it meant something different. (feels like I need to make up my mind about a lot of things) I also think I need to get my priorities sorted. (Joke, but just) Since then, if I ever feel I'm in a situation where I have a precarious hold on myself, and it's only a matter of chancy time until I kick my own self into a grave of mishaps, I go back to that song. There are alway...

Hello. Has the brevity of anybody's actions or nuances called out to you? We come across thousands of people in our lives, and I've always found it supremely intriguing how people move. The way they pull the chair out. The way they hold their pen. The intensity with which their fingers become animated while their hands move to compensate for the lack of intelligence in their words. The way they hold a pen, adjust their glasses or twirl hair out of their faces. The way some people become flushed while smiling. There are unending times I've seen multiple people, who mostly aren't even aware of the other one's existence, gesticulating identically. What if, there are more people of the same kind who actuate in the same way as opposed to other? What if, this is a human classification we're just not yet cognisant of? I wonder if there are certain gestures that are more attractive, or more irksome, or please you quicker. And, what becomes of stationery people? ...

"Everything about you separates you from the people in my life" You said it'll be gnarly, you said it'll be chaotic, But it'll be a ride, You said there'll be longings, you said there'll be greed, But that we'll make it a party, You said I need to give, you said I need to deplete, But it'll be all in good taste, You said you need to lament, you said you need to bruise, But only because monsters need the most spooning, You said you're warped, you said I was abundant, But it all was not unreal, You said it's not all games, you said I'll do the hurting, But no one really had a conspicuous plan, "Only because I've chosen you to hurt me" You said "I'm His Girl", you said you'll serenade me, But there wasn't even an orthodox departure, You said there'll be gestures, you said there'd be plants, But all I felt was belittling, You said there'll be time, you sai...