crevices and corners

the creak in the wall
reflects the gaps in my head
slowly filling in, not with truth
with dust of the realities instead 

I sit beside this noisy road
ideas rushing one nerve at a time
looking forward to destination far ahead
yet wondering why this poetry doesn't rhyme 

It is the journey we need to cherish
people often say it out loud
am i missing the point i think?
or there is a cloud hanging above the already present cloud

the creak in the wall
that I am staring at
looks back at me with laughter
It reminds me of the world
not proper, not perfect
it reminds me of how I am
imperfect, yet present, in the present conflict

The tea is cold
and so are the thoughts
waiting for a eureka moment to happen
about to get up
and take that leap,
for the sake of
filling with MY reality, the damn creak! 

Do it, right now. 

- Diary of an Oxymoron

I'm Perfectly Imperfect

You will never be perfect
For everyone around
Neither
Will you be appreciated
By all
The goal of life still remains
To be perfect
For your own self
Cz at the end
Thats the person you face daily
In the mirror
Of your soul.. 

Cherish still
Cz, if
You cant be perfect
Then be just perfect
Perfect in the imperfect self
Happier. 

- Diary of an Oxymoron
(NY chapter)

If life was simple

If life was that simple,
universe wouldn't have been this complicated
algebra would have been everyone's cup of tea
and a cup of tea wouldn't have been this hard to master

If life was that simple,
faces and phases would have been easily deciphered
symbols would have been universal
and meanings would be similar to actions 

If life was that simple,
the journey from naiveness to maturity would have been smooth
a book would be same for everyone
and everyone would have a similar story

life wasn't supposed to be simple
it will never be
and the beauty of it lies in acceptance
of realities and moving on, bravely. 

- Diary of an Oxymoron
(NY Chapter)

Painless Wound

It stays there
nomatter what
the stitchless sturture
Bleeds often
red, black, blue
painless,
that is in its nature

I cant recall
the incident
nor
the date, day, time
of the not-so-tragic fall
is it not important
or a lost cause
a bitter experience, sweet and sour

Medication?
Did i hear you right?
Hah! Not worth the penny spent
This painless jerk
resting on my skin
has lasted enough
to become hard to mend

I cant recall
what makes it bleed
nor
the trigger that stops the flow
It is not important
I guess I know
the joy
of the memory lapse
of the insatiable failure's glow

No cure
Or do I cherish the remains
of a memory long lost
For the pain
has ceased
and stain
intact
Makes me, Me, Me, Me
So hollow


- Diary of an Oxymoron

Confusions

And it said, it's time to take a stand. Either here or there. 

That had been my struggle since past many years. 

Many many years

I felt torn again. Torn between duties n desires.. 

That had been my struggle since many years. 

Many many years

The statement was now is the time. It's been stretched decision for long

That had been my struggle for many years 

Many many years

Coming from the confusions mouth, I had nothing to question. I was torn again. 

That had been my struggle for many years. 

Many many years

You can't chose so easily! Or can you? Wants pull you, so do your responsibilities n decisions. 

Struggle..

Many many years..

I stood there, or maybe lay in my pool of drama with that sinking feeling yet again. 
To choose. 
To let go or hold onto. 

Many many years

The beauty pulled me, the ugliness inside made me drift apart. 
Reality was hitting hard.. Dreams popping up once again

Many many years.

The beauty pulled me, the ugliness inside made me drift apart. 
Reality was hitting hard.. Dreams popping up once again

Many many years.

The funny thing was that the message came from the confusion itself. 
I couldn't argue. At all. Anymore. Now.

Struggles

Many many years

And all I wanted was the night to pass by so that once again I conveniently run away. Escapism. Yet again. 

Struggle.

Many many years

Coward? Irresponsible? Incompetent? Indecisive? Immature? Illogical? Emotional?

Haunted. Haunted. Haunted. 

Many many years

I want to sleep again. A peaceful lullaby if the confusions could sing. 
But al I heard were shrill shrieks. 

Dwindled again.

Many many years

The moon was complete making me empty. The stars shining as I lost my glow. 
The darkness inside blew me away.

Yet again lost

Many many years

Numb numb. I want to be. Dumb dumb so wish to me. The sound was killing n I drifted apart. 

Choose now as it shouted

Many many years

Kill me cz I can't bleed anymore. Maybe that's why I am so dead. Breathing for the world

Missing heart or lost the soul 

Many many years

Words are lost. From my mouth. Heart is blind. And u ask me to decide from what??

How? How? Now? Now? 

Struggles. 

Many many years

Incomplete I shall be. Always. Like this abode of my mind. Always. 

Confusions are life? 

Decide what? 

Struggles. 

Many

Many 

Years

- Diary of an Oxymoron

Monster under my bed

I know a sleeping monster. 
He lives in my head 
Always comes to haunt at wrong times
From under the bed 

He eats on my soulless flesh 
And drinks my thoughts alive 
Gets lost after making me habitual
N wakes me up by laughing aloud at five 

Comes and goes, in head and in heart
I often sit back and wonder
Why did I give him the right to live in
My life and cause lightening thunder

The sleepy monster with words so sharp
And a charming giggle to flash
If u ignore he makes u feel wanted
Being attended he throws u down to trash

Sleeping monster, or sleepy monster
I m tired of ur charming scare
I need to breathe without the shock
I think I have had enough of my share 

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

बिखरे हुए लव्ज़

पंख भले ही न हों मेरे दामन में
पर उड़ना सीख लिया है
कौन कहता है ज़रूरी है की कोई हवा चले
उड़ान भरने के लिए हौंसला ही काफी है

नसीब की बातें न करिये आज
ऐसा न हो की खुद पे से विश्वास ही उठ जाये
हाथों की लकीरों का क्या कुसूर
हिम्मत तोह बिना हाथ वालों में भी बहुत है

एक ज़ालिम समाज है
जिसको कोसते कोसते हम थकते नहीं
और एक यह ज़ालिम दिल है हमारा
की सवालों के जवाब में खुद को चोट पहुचता है

कुछ लकज़ आज फिर हैं बिखरे हुए
जैसे वक़्त ने सवालों का डिब्बा है खोला
दर्द है की सिमट नहीं रहा
और कमभक्त ढक्कन ही गायब हो गया है

रुकते नहीं हैं जो समय के यह पल
वैसे ही थम नहीं पा रही है मेरी उलझन
कुछ तोह मेरा कुसूर ज़रूर होगा
वरना ऐसा ज़ुल्म? हाय तौबा

रौशनी जो आज दिख रही है
वह है किसी बादल के गरजने की चमक
अपने आप को समेटे रखना है
एक दिन तोह उजाला भी चेहरा दिखायेगा

- Diary of an Oxymoron

क्या कहूं

मूक शब्द
पृथ्वी यह स्तब्ध
दुनिया अकेली
सुलझी पहेली
सुनसान शोर
रांझा चितचोर
झूठी सचाई
अनदेखी परछाई
अनसुनी कहानी
ताज़ा पुरानी
सच सपने
पराये अपने
लाल यह बेरंग
सवाल जवाब के संग
रूखे भाव
दबे उठे पॉव


क्या कहूं
चिलाती चुप मैं रहूँ?

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

अक्षरों में जो न समां पाये

एक बादल कुछ अजीब सा
सर के ऊपर है छाया
न जाने कैसे वोह बना इतना विशाल
न जाने कैसे खंघोर हुआ उसका साया

कुछ लव्ज़ अटके हुए हैं मेरे इस संगीत में
नहीं करने देते कथन को पूरा
क्या रुक जाऊं जब तक नहीं मिल जाता सही अंत?
या फिर छोड़ दूं इस असमंजस को अधूरा?

लिखते लिखते हूँ रुक जाती
चलते चलते थम जाती हूँ मैं कहीं
आधी कहानी जब लाये आक्रोश कि ज्वाला
कहीं खो जाती हूँ एक दम से वहीँ

कभी आंसू साथ नहीं देते
और कभी हसी ही नहीं है रूकती
जब चेहरे पे हो ख़ुशी सुहानी दिखती
दिल की हर नस है कहीं न कहीं दुखती

अक्षरों में जो न समां पाये
वोह एहसास हर वक़्त है याद रहता
थम जाए कहीं ये वोह कहानी कहाँ
क्युंकि हर मनोभाव यहाँ है दरिया कि तरह बहता

कौन रोक पायेगा, इस मूक तूफ़ान को?

-Diary of an Oxymoron 

उम्मीद

एक छोटी सी अलमारी में
एक एक करके संजोया था हर खवाब
कुछ हो गए जो पूरे, सम्भाला उन्हें भी
जो थे अधूरे, वोह रोज़ करते थे बेताब

अलमारी भले ही थी छोटी
थी मुझे बहुत ही प्यारी
इस अनजान दुनिया और लोगों के बीच
लगती थी मुझे वोह मेरी दुनिया सारी

फिर धीरे धीरे उसमें जमा हुआ आवंछित सामान
खोये जा रहे थे सपने सुहाने
क्या अलमारी लगने लगी थी छोटी ?
या लगने लगे थे कपडे सब पुराने?

शायद था वोह आवंछित सामान भारी
खाये जा रहा था उसके अंदर कि निर्मलता
या फिर शायद खोखली थी उसकी खुद कि लकड़ी
जोह नहीं समझ पायी सपनो कि सरलता

सुंदरता से जब लिया रूप उसने भयानक
काटने लगी हर एक चीज़
सपने तोह शायद खो ही गए थे
टूटते दरवाज़े करने लगे थे शोर अजीब

फिर जब आया एक भयानक भूकम्प
माप लिया उस अलमारी कि मज़बूती
देह गई कुछ पल में जैसे हो कोई लेहर
और ले गई संग हर उम्मीद वोह झूठी

जब खोखली हुई दीवारें,
सपनों का रंग पढ़ा फीका
जाना हमने कि जी रहे थे एक झूठ
शायद ज़िंदगी को और समझने का यह था एक तरीका

आगे बढ़ने कि कोशिश करनी थी कठिन
पर उम्मीद नहीं थी छोड़नी
फिर एक अलमारी बनाने का सोचा
फिर एक सपना सजाने का सोचा

पर इस बार ध्यान देना था ज़रूरी
फिर ठोकर नहीं खानी थी न
पर आगे क्या होगा किसने है देखा
बढे हम क्युंकि, जीवन कि गाडी चलनी थी न

उम्मीद अभी भी है जगी हुई
पर पुरानी अलमारी का गम भी है ज़िंदा
न जाने कब फिर खुलेगा ये पिंजर मन
न जाने कब मुक्त होगा यह परिंदा

-Diary of an Oxymoron 

Beauty, Botox and Breasts: Who Defines Perfection?

A few weeks ago I had come across a news report on a man who sued his ‘beautiful’ wife for producing a really ‘ugly’ daughter and came to know during court trials that his wife was all Botox beauty. Artificially enhanced that all her looks were, she had not informed the husband on any of the procedures she had undergone to become what she was. The statement that really struck me in the news report was how he called their daughter, ‘so ugly –hard to even look at’. And while the proceedings of the court took place, the reality was revealed and he won the case.

On the other hand, just few days ago I saw this video clip where it was shown how technology is being used since years to show women’s bodies as perfect (defined as one with no bulges, no stretch marks, no freckles). The video brought out how media and photography have shaped the images of women in my head, many of which are not even real i.e. software enhanced to suit the eye and made appealing. The reality is that these are what are termed as ‘acceptable’ now, with women and men craving for ‘size zero’ and ‘perfect model-like’ bodies, some even dying in the process of aiming to achieve this perfection.

These two very different but linked stories made me wonder on the concepts of ‘defining’ the words that surround our world; words like beauty, perfection, fair, flawless…so many definitions surround our world and while every day women crave to be called ‘beautiful’, I wonder what reason makes one crave for appreciation with respect to looks. The sudden explosion of beauty clinics (parlours too) makes me question the hidden emotion even more. It is not that I am not one of their customers but then where does one stop and label it as enough?

Let’s not even get started on concepts ofFairness and Flawlessness. Media, Marketing, Movies.. these three seem to have ruled the imaging process of women, in their own eyes (more than in the eyes of their male counterparts). Let’s start with Movies first. Be it any film industry anywhere in the world, the imaging process has been huge (and we talk with respect to looks here). Dark is not beautiful, fair is in. Those perfect bodies, perfect curves, sexy toned legs are more looked at by men, winning the hearts of the heros rather than the heavier ones with stretch marks or a scratch on her face. We all know how today female actresses a little on the heavy side are shunned by the industry, made fun of by the media. Vidya Balan and Sonakshi Sinha are breaking these stereotypes but Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi are looking at things like Botox for making their beauty last. Believe it or not, freckles are being frowned upon and those who can afford it are rushing to clinics to get themselves looking like timeless classics. Size C is more acceptable than a size A, don’t worry- get breast implants. On the hand while I say this, I know it’s a very personal choice but as we go back to the start of this article, it is nowhere bringing women closer to reality..

Media and Marketing go hand in hand. While we all look at those toned bodies endorsing male shaving products and get seduced by the fragrance of male deodorants, we wonder if this works in real life. While it has been creating a sexual image of women since ages, what I see is that for women it has the psychological effect of them disliking their reality and trying to achieve what is being depicted. Many waste a major chunk of their lives living these lies, trying to be what they are not. Using technological knives and tools to enhance pictures and then showcasing it as reality for the masses, makeup and technological makeup create an illusion that is way different from the truth. Being fit is important but becoming anorexic, injecting our bodies with chemicals just to look picture perfect is going a little overboard. As I said earlier, where do we stop?

Our media is funny. We talk about how a particular actress looks too bloated after pregnancy, how another one looks like she is on a no-food diet. The media creates images which look perfect. We forget that nobody can be the same and that bodies vary biologically, genetically and psychologically. Our matrimonial ads showcase this gruesome reality – how fair, slim and tall is all that is acceptable. Looks matter more than the person. And in our struggle to achieve those perfect images, the essence of life is somewhere lost.

I don’t know what is right for everyone. I know that drawing a line is very crucial. I know everybody cannot have a 36-24-36 figure and neither can everybody have the same face they had at 25 at the age of 40. In our struggles to achieve those, what is happening is that we are shaping coming generations with the values of ‘looks’ and not ‘depth’.

Botox, Beauty and Boobs are not synonymous. Valuing this statement is very important. We all know beauty is in the brain, and beauty is being natural, but do we really follow that? The anxiety of appealing physically to others and most importantly, the self, has made women insecure, unsure and too dependent on artificial enhancements. I know that these thoughts vary from one to another but for me, being comfortable in my own self, imperfect body, freckled face is what perfection is all about. Ageing is reality, and we need to cherish that. It is just how we see it. Isn’t it?

This article was originally published on Women's Web at: http://www.womensweb.in/2014/01/women-quest-for-perfection/

Diary of an Oxymoron (2)

scribble scribble, chomp chomp
crush the paper, throw it and upon it you stomp
the window pane has not been cleaned
the wrinkles on the jacket need be steamed
winter, oh you make me sad
its Confucius abode soon, for me be glad
tea is still hot
but only in the pot
you feel the wind slap your face
reminds you of the times you stood with grace
you are messy, you need accept now
don't worry for nobody will know what when how
truth or lie, you lay down your head
with ideas you learn and one you have been fed

scribble scribble, chomp chomp
baggages on you, you slowly tromp

Confessions of a PhD Scholar

you sleep, quite a lot
you forget what all was taught

the dramatic emotions ever ready to pop
is this a masala film plot?

the papers fly in the air
you want to but you still don't care

the tea is cold, the fourth of the day
ideas are old, freshness seems to act a little fray

you need a chair, a blanket and your worn out notebook
scribble scribble, crossout and make new points to look

as if the drama wasn't enough, the outer agents seem to shout
you go numb, with empty eyes you look above and only pout

question the unquestioned, think the unthinkable and cry
oh you failed? don't worry, you will have to try retry and try

is this a dead end? or am i missing a major turn
till you get buttery masala script, all you do is churn churn churn!

Things that don't make sense to me

Not much to say, still I will if I may
The mind is stuck, with words I play

The dry ketchup on the bottle makes me mad
Whom do i blame: sister, mom or dad

That window pane which is not clean
That woman in my family who is unnecessarily mean

Those little bobbins on my sweater
Those freckles on my face could be better

The little snoring noise around at night
Tiffs and irritations have their own fight

People telling me how imperfect is my life
Poking their nose, in real and my business, my strife

That freezing glass of water in weather so cold
What to be done, why am I told

My undone hair, I think I might like
But what i don't are people with funny spike

Why do people lie at drop of a hat
Should I slap them or their shoulders in pity should I pat

Blame me, cause I judge one and all
But I don't judge them for their struggles, pains and the rise & fall

Blame me, cause the nonsense around is making me little sad
All in the end I have is, this world Oh my dear is a lot mad

Should I hate or love, like or not,
I respect spaces, that is what (from life) I have been taught

Senseless, oh so numb I am turning
But still more to the world am craving and yearning

Under the Sheets: Hidden Realities & Hypocrisy of Indian Society

It really pains my heart to pen down why I consider the Present Indian Social situation is quite a bottom rock. The Media seems to be flooded with such interesting yet shameful cases that present a very shitty face of India to the world. On one hand while we brought out the Spiritual Baba & Sex Scandal out in open, on the other hand we saw the real pervert face of somebody who used to advocate the cause of women empowerment, the cause of right & wrong. On one hand we are taking about the judgment where parents were charged of killing their own daughter, on the other hand the Supreme Court comes out with a verdict where Homosexuality and Gay Sex is termed as Illegal. As a youth of this country, what does this reflect?

We have since ages been a country of hypocrites. While we are the land where the Kamasutra originated, we have ever since shunned the idea of taking about sex openly, terming it as a “Western” concept. We as Politicians are corrupt while point fingers at the other candidates, framing them in wrong cases just to gain power ourselves. We as Media professionals show the true colors of people while holding mirrors in front of their faces, talking about how the country is facing crime, power & politics overdose while on the other hand, we ourselves are involved in sexual harassment at work place (read Tehelka debate), corruption and power overdose (read Nira Radia- 3G case) and money mafia (Read Zee TV and JSPL Debate). We as society and traditional propagators talk about sanctity of women, preaching baba’s and swami’s bringing to us the do’s and don’ts of every gender while we use minor girls as sex objects, eat money from influential people to build lavish palaces as we show the world how gyani and sant we are. We as an economy talk about the rising jobs, employment rates, new enterprises coming up where we as a developing nation fail to fulfill the global agenda of Child & Maternal Mortality Rate, Female Foeticide, Violence Against women and even the basic issues of Nutrition & Hunger. What does this reflect?

As a young woman in Development Sector, to me this is a shameful reality I fail to answer every single time I look in the eyes of a woman from another nation questioning me why my land is great. This is the face of Indian Society where what we preach and what we teach vary. Where we talk about roots and age old cultural values but fail to deliver the Right, based on equality and justice. Where we blame the western media and over influence of Internet, porn and global world for the rising crimes against women but fail to reflect and see the fact that Violence has always existed in the society, unreported as it was its out in open now. Where we talk about change but fear it at the same time. What does this reflect?

Hidden under the sheets lie the realities of our roots and the fruits that we are bearing today. Can we talk about behavior change unless we change the very nature the system works? Who is accountable? As a youth who is clueless in a country like this isn’t going abroad a better option than trying to mend the rusted skeleton of the Indian Society? I can’t blame people for going out and abusing the country for being useless, but am I the youth who is ready to make that change? Are you the one who is ready to unveil the very reality of your own self? Time for change, but will it happen till we act like hypocrites?

Picture Courtesy: Self

Stars above me, fire within me

I have this silent rage that makes me restless inside

On face I am calm, confident and carry a smile

I try to hide, I laugh it and keep it aside

It crawls back to me, tells me to sort otherwise it will pile.

The life in my city is super swift, super fast

The sound, the lights and the thousands of people around,

They make me feel lifeless, hollow and empty, alone in a land so vast

The happiness is lost somewhere or still hiding, waiting to be found.

As I leave the crowd, the silence in countryside calls me aloud

Tells me that these are my roots, the roots of my soul

Brings back my smile, my heart beat make a normal sound

Make me wonder relevance of my life in this world, question my role

On one side is this city with building oh so tall!

On the other side lies a sky with stars shining so bright

The artificial world around makes me feel so small

If I could run away from the city, I just always might!

But I know I miss the city after a certain point

Because that’s my life, where I belong

Live in the moment, the words echo from every joint

And with a smile and a solution I sing my lullaby song

Today I sleep, with a smile as thousands of stars blanket me

No lights around but still I shine so bright

They make me feel blessed, they make me feel free

With a wish that they stay with me forever, I hug them tight!

(Written during a visit to a small village in South India. Cheers to random thoughts keeping me alive)