Cruising Alone

  So, you thought I would simply burn in rage While you quenched your passion with another... And when I spoke up against your ridiculous behavior, You dared to say— If it were not for your own sin, I’d have to deal with your brother. So, you could threaten me as much as you like, But when I matched you word for word, You dared to say I belong in a mental ward. Did you honestly think you can clip my wings, And I will vanish, extinct, like a flightless bird? You can't even handle your own dirty work, Always need one henchman or another To hide that smirk. Do you really believe you are a good guy ? Even Hiranyakashipu and Raavan Sent their sisters first, to burn and humiliate— And you can burn me all you want... Not every coal becomes a diamond in the rough. But honey, I was never just coal to begin with.

  You might crave your new woman’s touch, long for her embrace like a cherished clutch— but I have wanted to self-immolate because of your touch. Run around, claim you’ve won a jackpot , but it’s not rejection I fear— it’s your filthy gaze, your uninvited touch . You said you were being cruel to be kind? I’d love to press rewind. You begged for my love first, but now you chase another— just hunger, no soul. I know how it feels to be touched without permission . Yet, you—relentless—pressed me to submit, to erase my no as if it never existed. While you laughed, busy painting me as a rejected soul, I spent nights undoing every single touch . So go ahead, call me vile— but even after all that, I was good to you.

  A boy came to me, asking— "Can you help me improve?" A boy who spent his drunken nights in the arms of a mistress, now claims he was always a good man. He asked me— "Why won’t you play my mother?" Why? Because your parents failed you and your brother? Because you need a woman to mop up your shame while you parade your masculinity and pretend you’ve changed? Well, people are filing FIRs for words filthier than yours. But what about you— the one who left my body wrecked and laughed as I fell? And now you say— "Let it be. Otherwise, who will buy you a lightsaber? Which man will claim you now?" Did that laughter and power disappear from your face now? When you said, "Get lost." When you hid behind your brother’s strength. When you ran, sneering— "Ah, is that why you’re causing trouble? Because you’re not getting money?" Wow. But sure. You are such an amazing man.

  You bow down to a woman, only to do her dirty, Preaching freedom while drowning in hypocrisy. You treat her right when your throat runs dry, Lust-driven hands, masked with a lover’s lie. Did you think she breathes for your vanity? You break her down, then mock her insanity. Does it thrill you, watching her question humanity, While you revel in the comfort of your profanity? You wear your sins like a crown of pride, Hiding behind walls where your cowardice resides. But doesn’t it burn when a woman plays you? Lucky for you, she’s not wielding swords— Or you’d beg for mercy before she slays you. Even Shiva had to bow to still Kali’s wrath— What makes you think you could do a woman dirty And she would go down easy? Me? I could inflict all the pain on you, Be it the trigger's pull or the dagger's kiss, But for now, I hope you die with a thousand cuts, And my words will be forever here— No ointment can heal the stings.

  Where were these so-called boundaries when I was uncomfortable? When I mirrored your behaviour, suddenly I wasn’t normal? Oh no—seems like I "can't handle rejection"? Yeah, yeah, sure… Or maybe I stayed quiet so I wouldn’t create a scene? Tell me then, MR. GOOD CATCH — Why did you think it was alright to stalk my online profile, Inspecting who commented what? Were you not being a creepy little lurker ? But tell me—did you like the taste of your own medicine ? I guess not. When you can’t tolerate seeing your mother and sister suppressed, When you despise the toxic masculinity in a woman— Then why do you violate her vulnerability in the first place? Where did your laughter disappear when I jested, yaar? Why did you suddenly get so serious? Can’t take a simple joke? How sensitive of you. Maybe you’re overreacting… Maybe you should get a therapist yourself. Geez, have some control over your emotions, man. C’mon, give me a smile… You have such a pretty smile… I really liked ...

  Boohoo to your pity, I can't believe that your name means being virtuous to a certain degree. I can't believe I was so tired of creeps, that I was like whatever let it be. Seriously, the guy who was flaunting about sleeping with two naked women in dreams and I am the one who has lost it seems. Does she know you were bragging about the taste of her cookie? My true colours? Maybe this would make your face shine crimson red. I am weird? Boy, I shine with or without that blush. I am not that woman who ever wants your money, go pander to people who wanted to be your friend because your name was higher on that coder list. You think I was calculating to be your friend? I simply decided to be your friend. You think I couldn't see through the ways you were testing me? To see if I am a gold digger or if I can solve the question of tree. I do not talk in binary. Asking me if I can Google the term "Eat You." Fake? I was simply happy that you had less money as a kid and coul...

  So, you think just because you slept around, Twelve women deep to prove your masculinity, You can shame a woman? Boasting— at least you’re not a virgin? Tapping a woman just to show you’re a man? I guess you skipped chapters in decency and biology. There is no pride in that—be it man or woman. And yet, you preach about being the good guy ? Would your blood still boil if your sister was left high and dry? Or would you blame her— she should have built a home ? Do you think real women are pornstars? The audacity of men like you , Trying to explain a woman’s body to herself. Is your mother still teaching you this? That girl seduced you, enchanted you—for your money? Like seriously? If that were true, Even Fiona wouldn’t have been with the Ogre. You want feminine women, yet ask, do you like to touch yourself? Your mother warned you of gold diggers, But forgot to teach you respect for someone’s daughter? Spare your lectures when it comes to me, I was standing up for other girls— Aga...

  Keep your sins to yourself— Not your "Father" or "Mother" to cleanse, Not for me to swallow in silence, Your guilt is not my recompense. Don’t drag me through your self-made hell, Then act like you turned out so swell. Watch your filth, then touch with ease, And still pretend you’re pure as peace? Should I carve it on my skin? "Do. Not. Touch. Me."—would that sink in? Or will you still play dumb and blind, Like respect is too hard to find? If you wrong me, I’ll return the song, Sing it loud where it hurts the most. Tell your mother, warn your child— Let them know of your hollow ghost. So go, pray at temples, beg for grace, But I am a storm—you'll know your place.

  A guy like you— who boasts of conquests like trophies— dares to call me a psychopath? A guy like you— who measures his worth by body count— Do you  think you can shame me? A guy like you— who has built his pride on silencing others— believes he can shut my voice? You justify your choices, wrap them in excuses, but hold me to standards you’d never dare apply to yourself. And I am the one to blame? Men like you deserve no sympathy. Oh, you pity me? I do not need pity from a man drowning in his own bravado. The audacity— to tell me to "calm down," to label me hysterical, to say, “Don’t take it personally.” Your intentions were pure? Where was that purity when I said, I won't be able to take this anymore? Now you would go on and say you did everything you could? But aren’t you the one who was laughing, mocking me when I was in pain? I was never afraid to stand up— not as a child, not now. And I sure as hell won’t let you walk away unscathed. You tried to humiliate my very s...

  They say girls only want attention, When it’s the boys who thrive on the male gaze, craving validation. Flaunting their women like trophies in hand, Yet taunting them for taking a stand. They hide behind their veil of "good," While asking women to cover up from their filthy gaze. Try to act like men when you are in doubt, Yet shrink away when caught in a crowd. They speak loud but call us shrill, They break hearts yet say we kill. They say girls are "crazy," ruled by Jinn, I just hope their daughters don’t pay for their fathers’ sins. They mock our rage, yet steal our fight, Afraid of the fire we hold inside. But we are the storm they cannot tame, And we burn down their game. Boys like that asking, "Would you wear that in front of my mom?" Well, no, but does she know you drool over almost every naked woman? Acting as if God made them from a rare mould, When they are the ones who easily fold.

  Boys like you do not like it When the script is flipped on you. A woman who leaves is always A “whore” or a “bitch”—but never the truth. You asked about me? What did they tell you? That I was “always” a “self-serving narcissist”? Is that really the truth, or just a distorted view? I did ask about you, though, People called you “bin painde ka lota,” And if you stood alone in an election, Even then, they’d press NOTA. So, you honestly feel that you hurt my ego? You could’ve rejected me like a man, But no, you did it like a coward, With a sly smile and the words, “Oh, you can’t handle rejection?” How sad is that? You affected my health—HEALTH— And still cried about “dust allergy,” But your ego needed more—how pathetically true. Ohh, I did understand that intimacy is important between a woman and man, And I told you I was molested, but you did not ask me if I was alright or would I be ok? No, you simply said you have needs and blow job is a deal breaker, But guys like you call women ...

  Go ahead, flaunt the size of your wallet, I was never in it for your pocket, Because I don’t “phasao a man” nor view them as a “catch.” Ah, the false notion you have— That you were the one who brought me down to my knees, As if I was hopelessly in love with you. If only you could comprehend what was really beneath the surface. It wasn’t about losing myself in you, But in losing my purpose. If you think it was all for you, Let me make it crystal clear: I wanted to burn my skin off, To rid myself of the stench of what you think you touched. This was never about your age, race, or face. It was about the rhythm of your aura, And how your energy consumed mine, Pulled me into its pace, Until I could no longer remember my own. You mistook my confusion for submission, But what you didn’t see was the storm raging within. Your power was nothing more than an illusion, An empty shell that I once thought I needed. But now, I see through it— And realize my worth was never tied to your validati...

  Unconditional love, you show your mother, But forget she’s also a daughter of another. Where does your empathy, your respect stray, When another's daughter stands in your way? You rob her youth, her peace, her mind, And leave your wounds for others to find. You worship God, the ultimate creator, Mother Earth, and nature, your nurturer and saviour. But what of the women, the earthly creators? Where is your concern for these life-sustainers? The shameless gaze upon a friend, Or the harsh critique as they near their life's twilight end— Do you not see the gifts they bring, The goodness that's woven in life's every string. Boys like you, in games, degrade, Discarding women like trophies displayed. Do you think it’s cool, in your virtual reign, To belittle her efforts, her dignity stained? Undressing her in the halls of your mind, Yet expecting her always to be kind. Boasting of conquests, as a mark of integrity, Laughing as though it proves masculinity. Do you think it wo...

  Now you are a better man, Because you found spirituality in a foreign land. But aren’t you the one who shamed me once, Claiming I was “old enough” and should have watched porn? Why? Because being a woman who made food with love wasn’t enough? Do you think I needed to be “cool” to have a man? That after every objectifying glance, I had to shape myself—quirky tees, muted dreams, Just to be a shadow of what you demand? You labelled me a gold digger—way to go, divine coder. Was I afraid to ask or learn because I wasn’t a nine-pointer? Shy, not assertive—was that my crime? When I wasn’t sure if I could speak my mind? You enjoyed more freedom and independence than me, But can you even relate to that disparity? I dreamed of strength, of standing tall, Long before I understood these walls. Now you felt violated when someone touched you without consent, But I’ve carried that burden since I was a child— Do you really think I’m fragile? Weak? Do you know what goes on in the back of a woman’...

When I was quieter, more reserved, and unable to communicate the depths of my pain, they called me calm, motherly, and nurturing. They admired what they saw as my gentleness, unaware of the storm I kept buried inside. But when I finally began to stand up for myself—to voice the ways I had been hurt, the pain I had endured, and the things I had dealt with—I became a “psychopath,” a “nutjob,” someone to be pitied. Suddenly, I had “no self-esteem,” and my assertiveness was too much for them to handle. Isn’t it ironic? The very person who said I needed to stand up for myself tried to snuff out my voice the moment it became inconvenient for them. They talked about being a “good person,” about respecting women because they had a mother and a sister. But where was that respect when they mocked my pain, dismissed my struggles, and invalidated my truth? This poem is my response to their hypocrisy—a voice they couldn’t silence. So, when I tried to confront you with all the ways you hurt me, With...

This poem is my way of confronting a chapter of my life that was both agonizing and transformative. It’s not just about heartbreak—it’s about the lies, the power dynamics, and the twisted emotions that left me questioning myself. The Corpse Bride isn’t just a metaphor; it’s how I felt—like someone stuck between the death of who I was and the birth of who I’m meant to be. Writing this isn’t about revenge; it’s about reclaiming my voice, my story, and the parts of me I thought I’d lost. A boy who tried to find pleasure in someone else's lap, Told me I should rise up from my nap. I would have left this alone if you did not try to bring me down, And then said Indian girls make you frown. A boy who acted as if he was superior, As if everyone he came across should kiss his posterior. I am not the girl you thought I was, Well, who told you that you were my boss? Oh, I was in insurmountable pain, But you talked about your "fayada" and what you can gain. You called me crazy, a wh...

  You should have left the gully cricket talks with your boys. I do like a good lightsaber, but I am into different types of toys. Not that you ever had a good grip on you... I am sure you only enjoy it when they strip for you. What made you think that you ever pulled me with your charm? My words are enough to do the harm. You really think you brought me down to my knees? That somehow you got into my head... and you wish I were dead. Not your money nor your image, I always like to take centre stage... If I seem strange it's because I have an emotional range. True freedom is what I honestly crave, Not your lifelong bondage. No desire to control or be controlled. You might call yourself a catch, But I am not yours or anyone's, in fact. I am my own person first, Not a piece of meat for you to lust... Dare to make fun of my vulnerability And you would lose all your credibility. If "All the world's a stage," and if we all are merely players, Then I would create my own ...

  You say you want a normal woman? Well, I never asked for a man who thinks Thirteen thousand on an escort’s the way to flex, As if his daddy’s pension grows on trees, Spending like there’s no tomorrow, no regret. A guy who drooled over every woman in his class, Asking me if I can even pronounce Mont Blanc— So you're gonna shame me for my past, When it’s you who can’t go a day Without that up-down-left-right glance, Eyes roaming, never satisfied? You want to judge me? For what— My history? Boy, I was never scared to own my sexuality. It’s you men who quiver at the idea of a woman who owns her power, While you fake confidence in the corners, Clutching to your fragile masculinity, Scanning, comparing, always measuring. Come at me with everything you've got, I’ve cried enough, rolled on the floor like a wombat, Fighting my tears with fists and scars, But I still rise, still shine, still own it all. Breaking every stereotype they gave me, Not delusional—just loving the hype. Maybe,...

Have you ever been told you don’t have the right to your own body, voice, or truth? This poem is a defiant response to those who use power, wealth, and manipulation to silence the soul. It’s a powerful declaration that no matter how much they take or distort, your spirit remains untouchable. How often do we allow others to think they can own us, only to realize that, in the end, our souls cannot be taken? You want wealth and power to shield your pride, To silence the shame of what was done To the man, you call your house’s spine. What makes you think you can dangle Toys and jewels, lusting for flesh, To snuff out my voice— A voice you call delusional, Wrapped in dreams of cinematic love? You say you’ve seen the world Through “practical” eyes— What makes you think I was born blind? Blind to the rot and the predator’s games, Blind to the weight of being prey In this filthy, rigged charade? Yes, I cried into the night, Hating the sacred wounds on my body You dared to glorify. But even the...