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 may think you broke me with all the cruel words you spoke, but I have always been a Peacock. I leave those love-colored iridescent tokens everywhere I go. Everyone treasures them and makes them forever keepsakes, even if some of you would love to see me burn on stakes. And you may think you made me cry... but I am a Peacock—I thrive in those downpours... You went around lecturing me to focus on simple chores... while you were trying to grind for those plastic crores... But even the Goddess Lakshmi is often symbolized by a Peacock by her side... and even my name means Gold, and you dared to call me a gold digger... So, while you work in stealth, I am the source of never-ending wealth... Because I am a Peacock... A few have explicitly told me that would like to taste my muffins and cakes... But I am like those rare porcelain sets— not for folks like you with your ridiculous schemes and tests. And I am sure your binary brain would go "but Peacock is manly..." True... becau...

  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 ...

  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.

This poem reflects my journey of breaking free from suppressed emotions and societal expectations. It’s a glimpse into the struggles I’ve faced—fighting to be heard, understood, and respected while navigating a world that often judged me, or perhaps a world I judged myself too harshly in. Through this piece, I reclaim my voice and my truth, shedding the weight of past hurts and embracing a lighter, freer self. I never knew the rules of the game, You believed I was playing. What was the point of praying, When you kept laughing at everything I was saying? You thought it was simply abhorrent prattle, When in reality, I was fighting a different battle. It was easy for you to name all your emotions, While I suppressed mine to avoid causing any more commotion. While you were perhaps reaping the benefits of your preparation, I was furious about the trending "grab 'em by the pussy" declaration. Did you not joke, saying you hit below the belt? Oh, I’ve been grabbed when I was just...

Have you ever been underestimated by someone who thinks they can measure you by their own limited standards? This poem takes aim at those who reduce people to labels, stereotypes, and numbers. It’s a declaration of breaking free from their narrow definitions and stepping into your own power, as you reclaim your narrative. I’m done playing by your tired old rules, Go ahead, dip your pen in ink pots of dolls. Hide your random wealth in cryptos and shells, Your game’s just as shallow as the lies you tell. I make and break my own damn image, No labels are needed to pen my lineage. They shift with every word I speak, From prayers whispered to nights dressed chic. Oh, you flaunt, taunt, and rate me like a show, Boosting some TRP— but who even knows? While you brag about code and your so-called might, Acting like God’s gift to JavaScript nights. Stick to your numbers, your screens, and your tests, Your zeros and ones—there, you’re the best. But out here, in the world of flesh and soul, You co...