That Shoulder. That Voice.

I sat there. Defeated. Lost. Alone. Not a shoulder to cry on. Not a soul to wipe my tears. I sat there. Anguished. I’d let them all go. No, they’d left me. I’d never meant anything to them. Nothing at all. I was just that girl who’d be the shoulder they’d cry on. Open arms they could cry into. The voice that could make them laugh. And nothing else. I was just that girl who was always there for them. Just that.

I craved for all that. But that thirst was never satisfied. Until then. Until the time you came by. Till the time you stood there beside me. Silent and strong. Became that shoulder. Those open arms. That voice.

Continue reading That Shoulder. That Voice.


He The Human.

So let’s talk stereotypes. Let’s talk equality.

Day in and day out, we’re all trying to break through some stereotype. Be that against our choice of stream; our generation; our roots and even our gender.

So let’s talk about this last set of stereotypes.

We’re in that age of time where the women have started breaking norms, brushed off stereotypes and are going all out loud for their right; for equality. It’s the age where women empowerment doesn’t sound all that surreal. It’s the age where you’ll be thrashed with glares should you say women are any lesser than men.

But yes, we haven’t reached that point where gender equality has been hence attained, we’re still on the way there. But hell, we’ve come a long way in that journey.

So there’s a little thought that’s fathomed in my mind as we’re going up this ladder…

Continue reading He The Human.

The Sleeping Awake.

You know, there’s something about society that amuses me a lot. And our approach to it? Even more.

It’s not just its norms or taboos exactly. But our perspective of those.

People manage to ridicule the society very easily. You don’t need to hunt down examples. Just look around a bit, you’ll find them. You could probably be one too.

For example, when you’re feeling bad for that old man who’s being mistreated by his children or grandchildren out there in public, or maybe even if he’s having diner all alone in the table diagonal to yours in a restaurant. You talk about his bad luck and fate and all that. But do you do something about it? Would you confront those mistreating him? Would you go join him for diner? Nah, none of our business.

Or remember that time when those boys were fighting like animals and were brutally going at each other? A crowd would soon gather around them. There’d be jeering. There’d be Ooh’s and Ah’s too. Oh and, some might even start filming it. But does anyone do anything about the fight when they see it? One, random guys. Two, this doesn’t affect my life. So? So, obviously it’s none of our business!

Oh. How about that time when your boss humiliates your colleague in front of the entire office. Or even when your teacher does that to your classmate in front of the entire class. Oh and, it wasn’t justified. We definitely go console that colleague or classmate afterwards. But what about when this humiliation was happening? Did you do anything about? Aye man, why put ourselves in trouble for someone else? Their problem, they’ll handle it. None of our business.


Continue reading The Sleeping Awake.

The Taste of Iron.

I pulled my jacket closer to my racing heart; walking as fast as my stilettos would let me without falling. I could hear his jeering and whistles; the lewd comments. I was still untouched, but I felt like each piece of clothing on me was being stripped away slowly.

“Arrey. Where are you running off to, Miss? That too all alone? It isn’t safe. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll drop you. Safe and sound.”

He rasped, hissing those last few words into my ears like a snake ready strike; blocking my way. I felt my body’s temperature drop dead in this winter night of December, my face matching the snow that covered the city and heart whose beat echoed with fear, paralyzing my mind. Instinctively, I tried pushing him away, my gloved palms against his coat of shame; only to find pain shooting up my wrists as he pinned me against the bricked walls of the alley; coming so close to me that I could hear his heartbeat and see the small dot of a mole on the left hand side of his beaked nose.

Trying to free myself from his strong clutches, I screamed for help into the vast skies that echoed my cries in response. Some shops would still be open; the time to shut the doors hadn’t come yet. There would be kids playing somewhere nearby in the fields. I tried screaming again, kicking, all the time as he let out laughs of amusement that tormented me.

“Kyun apne aap ko itni takleef de rahi ho, mohterma?”

There was the ruffling of papers on the road, the steady pulling of chains of a cycle. There was a halt in the movements of my tormentor. He’d heard it too.

 Was there someone nearby?

But the opening in darkness closed as soon as the light seemed to touch my eyes. And I saw the gleam of pure thrill in his eyes that pushed me further into the void.

Screaming my lungs out of breath, I kept kicking and clawing at him; any sort of bruise that might stop him. That might save me. And with each wound I tried to give him, I was attacked with more fervor and left with a wound deeper. Kneeing him in his masculinity, I felt his grip loosen and saw agony in his eyes leave his lips as a hiss through his clenched teeth. Taking advantage of this weakening, I shoved him against the wall and ran. 

Only to hear my jacket rip, be thrust onto the ground as the wind abused my exposed dignity.


The skies bled my tears and became the dome echoing my doomed screams. With every fiber torn, there was a cloud ripped from the sky. With every wail, a crow cried somewhere. The coldness of the crime discolored the winds as it engulfed me in shivers. An agony of an imprint here, and gnash there.

I’d felt the dial of my watch crack as I’d hit the ground, freezing time in itself. Freezing the pain, dragging it for as long as what seemed forever.

“If you love your life, keep your mouth sealed. Otherwise I’ll seal your mouth for forever.”

 I watched him walk away with the steps of content and indifference.

I ached all over; on the outside and inside. I didn’t know which pain hurt more; physical or emotional. As I picked up my shredded dignity, I felt a cry rise in my throat. I hugged my knees and cried into the sky that was dark as my smudged kajal. Cried into the night to swallow me. Cried as the pain lapsed, breaking me into pieces I couldn’t join. Cried for it to be nightmare.

Walking down the streets of the neighborhood, I gave a nervous glance behind me. The fear of being followed never left me. It had been a year but still, empty roads, new people knotted my stomach. I forgot what peaceful nights meant, always waking up the same nightmare with my heart crushed in a fist that left me breathless. I remember walking these roads with a smile on my lips and skip to my walk. I remember laughing at jokes, going out with people. But all seemed lost in a land I couldn’t find on the map now. Neither the love nor the people. The only thing remaining was the ache of memories. Memories of a life I once lived. The ache of a reminder that reflected in the eyes of the ghosts of my past every time I crossed the room. The ache of being the victim.


Continue reading The Taste of Iron.

A Reconnaissance in Rhetorical