Cruising Alone

  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 ...

  Would you understand my situation, my choice? How could I? I am not you nor your voice. You want others to accept you as you are, But have you even accepted yourself for who you are? You say I’m like your mother, Or sometimes, I act like your brother. I may reflect the familiarity of those traits, But I am not your mother—never will be. I am my own person, just like you are. When you can’t understand yourself, Why impose your voice on me? Then you say, “Oh, I can’t generalize, it isn’t right”— So why should I dim my light? You’re human, not a machine, Yet you judged me— That laughable, smoke-screen test, When you can’t even talk maturely. I am not a test paper, not a multiple-choice, Where you say, “I fail” and you win, Or “I won” and you fail. Who is winning this? Tell me, who? Because, in the end… does anyone? "I liked you for who you were." "Do the same as you did before." "But I need someone who does more." I was not a teenager, and neither was your ...

  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 ...

  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 ...

  Tell me— is it funny, really? You asked me to trust, and  promised, “I’ll do anything if I must.” I didn’t make you jump through hoops or test your resolve with if-else loops. It was you— always asking, always needing. Even when I hesitated, I said, Yes. I did what you asked, though it left me less. I said, “I’m no mother; I won’t play that role,” but you begged, “Be mine, you make me whole.” And when the moment came to be the man you claimed, I gave you a choice: “Don’t stay for the nice-guy image; choose your voice.” And you— you took the easy way out. Now you call me delusional? The one who started all the confusion— was it not you? Tell me then: Did you give your mother a choice to chase happiness after her pain? When your father died, did she gain a chance at “better”? If I was so “mom-like,” would you have offered her the same right? To walk away, to find her life? Don’t put your labels on me, using “personal choice” and “divine timing” to suit your needs convenientl...

"Winter’s Tale" - A Song of Betrayal and Rediscovery Set against the quiet chill of a Bangalore December, this piece tells the story of a young woman who, for the first time, let her guard down, only to be met with betrayal. Written in the rhythm of a song, it captures the fragile beauty of trust, the sting of abandonment, and the fierce resolve to rise again. It’s a journey through cold endings and the warmth of self-discovery. Verse 1 He couldn’t believe, someone loved him so, A heart laid bare, but he let it go. Played his games, kept his cards down low, Then threw out names in a cruel little show. Chorus Promises grand, but always a no-show, Words so cold, like the winter snow. He laughs at me, with his Ho Ho Ho, But the truth will shine, let the whole world know. Verse 2 He chased the cash, he chased the fame, But his empty heart just fed the flame. A victim’s mask, his favourite game, While I fell apart, drowning in pain. Chorus Promises grand, but always a no-show, Wor...