Cruising Alone

  Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE  works. You get high on your stupid   WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach  me  about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my  ladyfingers ...

  Well, you’re lucky, I guess— That you never really got into me. Because what would’ve happened? I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing. These words? They don’t touch me. But your ego? That could use a little decomposing. If I were part of the problem, Then where does that leave you? Fumbling through good women, Yet you wonder why you always end up so blue. Oh, yeah— I howl under the full moon’s bloom, Preying and hunting for lamb skin. Aren’t you glad you caught on To my masks so thin? You took one for the team, boy. To you, I was always a faraway dream. Yeah, yeah—go play the fool. Too bad, so sad—not into 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 ...

With that tiny trunk, you think you’re such a hunk, When in reality, you get passed around like junk. Did you honestly think those bags you carry hold Cheese Whiz? I had to throw away my sheets—what a mess that is. Do you feel proud of the fact you made me cry? Can you tell your in-laws, that you love making big girls cry? Why else would they jeopardize their daughter's life? "A girl who doesn't obey her father, how would she respect me?" Haha, says the one hosting booze parties— Umm, does your daddy know? Me? I learned that swagger from my father, And he stays with his woman, Not running like you to some clueless looker. You didn’t have the guts to face me, Tried to go behind my maker’s back— So don’t you dare come at me Or take my dad’s name in vain, Because you’re not even half the man. Maybe you need to impress with that bank balance, Because personality-wise, you’re an arse. Most people would choose a bear over men like you— Even a wild beast knows loyalty better...

  Labelling me as a failure, while you stand so fly— Did it not hurt when your father died, and you rushed to marry your sister off? But if you hurt me, does it matter? My father is alive, and I have no blood brothers. Oh, so you were just a kid? And who was I—Erin Brockovich? You felt so cool, asking me— "Have you not watched American Pie?" Now you brag about tasting continental sides, while calling me the one full of lies. Telling girls how they’re tight, how you’d want to do them when you're high as a kite. Did you really think you'd mess with me and I wouldn’t bite? "Are you asexual?" "Are you not finding someone else to sleep with?" Well, can you pass the phone to your mom? I’m sure she’s too tired, raising boys like you while your father left to have a heavenly fondue. Failure? No. That title belongs to the man too afraid to look me in the eye.

  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...

  You teach us the divinity of temple grounds, The sacredness past the mortal bounds. You explain how "Pran Pratishta" is done in those stone moulds, And how it feels closer to the divine home. Yet you often forget this body is my temple too, My soul lives between these skin and bones too. You go to war if they disintegrate or ruin it, And energy released is painful. Then why do you say I am dramatic? Who will fight my war? I never said I am God, But am I not a creation of that divine thought? Then why can't I weep for how they touched me with their lust? Why am I called names for my rightful outbursts? You teach me in detail about the sacred grounds, But forget that I am as much a part of it. You love adorning them with flowers and jewels, When I put on makeup and adorn myself with silver and gold, Why must it be seen as vanity, not a reflection of my soul? You bow down in temples and ask for abundance, But hurt my very soul. The others might have looted this land and ma...

  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 ...

  Born the elder of two girls, I thought, "Be strong, be wise, for who else would take care of them?" So I studied hard, played sports to build muscle, Not for joy, but survival. Yet someone's son says I was always an insane woman. I ignored the indecent touch, Kept my skirts in the drawer and wore cargo pants instead, Silent, because I couldn’t risk losing my freedom— The freedom to complete a school project. So I collected A’s, never rants, But someone's son says I was always an insane woman. I became a shield, a safe haven, Protecting those who sang in their innocence. Yet someone's son says I was always an insane woman. I befriended men others scorned, Thought kindness could mend wounds— But instead, I was wounded. Sexually assaulted by one I tried to defend. Still, someone's son says I was always an insane woman. At 25, exhaustion clung to me like a shadow. Couldn’t even learn the violin without That middle-aged man stealing my dignity. Yet someone's ...

  The boy with his ledger, of rights and wrongs, Sings hollow tunes, but never his own songs. When his flaws are laid bare, he turns to “move on,” Yet he thrives on the judgment he casts upon. A lover of idioms, metaphors in vain, Believes his wordplay makes him reign. With a glance, he judges, with words, he stabs, Deems himself a king of life's drabs and jabs. But let’s be honest, your digs fell flat, Not a single diss hit the mat. You call yourself cosmic—master of the dance, Yet stumble through life with a hollow stance. You sneer at the world, “They can’t best me!” If that were true, oh, how grim life would be. And you, unaware of my silent strife, I longed to erase the touch of your life. You, the one who knew about Stifler’s Mom, But couldn't handle my fire—you’d rather play calm. “Would you wear this in front of my mom?” you’d plea, While handing out lectures on love and purity. Preach on, boy, of peace and white doves, While you wear your hypocrisy like a glove. Taste ...

This poem is a deeply personal and emotional reflection on the labels and judgments women endure, often imposed by a society steeped in misogyny. From a young age, I’ve been vocal against the derogatory terms and stereotypes used to demean women, particularly those who have been victims of abuse. I remember standing up for a woman who had been sexually abused in her youth, only to be dismissed as “PAGAL” when her suffering led to a mental imbalance. Even as a child who had faced molestation like countless women, I understood how one traumatic incident could leave a lasting scar on a person’s psyche. This awareness made me fiercely protective of children, regardless of their gender. It also sharpened my insight into the hypocrisy of some men—those who insult and demean the daughters of others while demanding respect for their own families. These actions reflect deep-rooted misogyny, where men fail to see how their behaviour violates the nurturing instincts of women and perceive any reta...

What is your level, let me ask you? The man who claims he works so hard, That no one can reach the level you are at. You look down upon those who help, In ways you cannot even grasp, And then try to throw money, It's as if it justifies every dig you've made in jest. I never asked your caste, But you felt inferior about that, didn’t you? What makes you think your status Gives you the right to bring others down, When you seek empathy for your choices, And the ways you fall? You boast about reading from different sources, But did you actually even read the history of your own land? Or do you justify the actions of those, Who took in slaves just because they could? You wear royal colours stamped on your foreign pass, But don’t you forget, A lot of those you think are beneath you, Died to protect the people of the motherland. How dare you say that sexual assault is something only faced by Indian women, And Indian women are psycho in terms of that? When you, who lacked basic sex educ...

  Are you proud of yourself, Boasting how you hit a girl below the belt? What’s the point of worshipping a Goddess If you mock the very organs that give life? And you think a woman’s respect Hinges on how much you earn? Is that the height of your manhood— Your so-called intelligence? Were you just a naive child, Or a man who never grew a spine? Would you enjoy being groped, A hand shoved between your thighs, And someone paraded as if they tasted The nectar of eternal life? Is this your legacy? A world where reverence turns to hypocrisy, And silence shields the guilty?

  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...

  Actions speak louder than words, But my words will bring your actions out in the open. Kept calling me crazy, Maybe your memory is hazy. No, I won’t back down. Go ahead and frown. Try parading her, Because you only enjoy crumpling every fleur. Then act like a good guy, Laugh out loud thinking you hurt a woman’s ego—a big sigh. Everything that suits you goes by your choice, Yet you treat girls like one of your toys. Boys like you who think they’re doing a favour, When they talk to a woman with respect. Believing that since Maa Lakshmi graces your pockets, You can go around poking your rockets. But your souls are blind and have marbles in those sockets. Did I show my true colours? Go ahead then, build up your case. Sure, I am the one who is such a disgrace. Actions speak louder than words, But my words will bring your actions out in the open. Equating a woman’s worth with words like “tight,” And you think I am always ready to fight and have lost my sight. But you’re a big meat of c...

  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’...

  I was born naked, Roamed my home with laughter, Playing as an infant, Free as the wind, fearless in my truth. You dared to say I’m not a normal woman? Well, I wore skirts as a child, Until a man decided his hands Had the right to feel my thighs. Cargo pants became my armour, So I could study, thrive, While you rated women based on how well they grind. Is this your idea of strength, of being a man? What did you do with your first paycheck? Spend it on a looker—your prize for the night. You boast of class, watching porn as you sneer, Claiming I’m the one shoehorning into your life. You said I was after your money? That’s laughable, really. Weren’t you the one lamenting your father’s struggles, Crying about how you worked hard for your mother’s troubles? Yet, when a woman speaks of her pain, Trying to rise, You mock her, Exalting another’s body as if it’s a trophy. And you think I’m the one who’s vile? Gaudy? Insane? You lose yourself to booze and laughter, Yet look down on anyone w...