The Monster within you.
Have you looked inside yourself?
And met what stays in there
The inner demons always longing
To defeat you.
They live inside your very thoughts
And try to determine the actions you do .
The monster inside you
Is everything but the real you
It is everything which is wrong in life
It is everything which never got appreciated
And it is a reminder of all those times
You trusted and were backstabbed
Brutally and viciously.
This is what turned that happy soul
Into this monster which is so vindictive
Which is perennially callous
It does not need to be paid importance
It’s impulses need not be listened to
It is there to be pitied
To be felt sorry for
And make sure , you never let that demon
Overpower the angel in you.
Someone is going
To hug you tight
Make your eyes bright
All your broken pieces
And fix them right.
It will all happen
And their kisses
Will caress your soul,
A part of them will come
And make you whole .
It is bound to happen
All in good time ,
Someone will fill
Your insides with delight
Someone will hug you tight.
For five days straight
I bleed profusely
people think it’s my fault ,
What shall I do?
Wrap up my vagina
And store it in a vault?
When I had my first period
My mom told me,
Don’t let your dad
Ever see those stains of red.
I cannot talk loud and bold
About this disease
All am I allowed
Is to whisper , about whispers.
The other day
Blood oozed out
Staining my pant
The onlookers lost their cool
And went on a raging rant.
If they could
They would zip up my vagina,
For those 5…
I expect you must be sitting at your desk and working on your new ‘novel’ right now , or touring cities for the promotion of Half Girlfriend or the best , agreeing to judge another reality show. That’s what literary giants do in this age , right ? Sure , you have earned a lot of name ,fame and must be rolling in money at the moment but inspite of every bestseller you produce , we have problems coming to terms with some of your ways. Let’s talk today.
This letter should be of concern to you because…
I was elated
When I went
To that musical evening.
She was my favorite
And from life,
I couldn’t have asked
For a better thing.
And life made sure
I have no chance
My younger brother
Was with me too ,
I don’t see him here .
Did they take him home ?
Or is he somewhere hidden
Starving and crying alone ?
I didn’t know that man
Who swallowed us with him,
He didn’t know me
I never knew him.
We were having a gala time
When from nowhere
Hope, you are so kind
That you screw up my mind
You stir up my expectations
Without any valid reasons
You keep that tiny flicker burning on,
Giving me something to count upon
But when you’ve tried your best
Till the end of my quest
Yet when I fail to yield
It breaks my shield
Leaving me open to wounds
Feeling so doomed
And still you are by my side
Like the best ever guide
Lighting another tiny flame
With a brand new aim
And this cycle respawns
Forever on and on
Hope you are so kind
That you screw up my mind.
— Ajay Rahul
“Cometh the hour! The floor stands open for comment.”
Measuring tape in hand, they’re all set to conduct a sacrament —
The soi-disant aunt, her cousin, his neighbour,
Putting sensibilities through unprecedented labour.
“This dress is one notch too high for your self-esteem to match! Why so chubby, don’t be
scrubby, take it off and dispatch.”
“So you’re saying, if the dress were a tad longer, I could go right ahead?”
“Uh- weeeell, no. A casual attire is a call for satire; enshroud her in jeans instead.”
“HEAVENS NO!” Cries the self-proclaimed jury,
“Traditional is ideal, denim would only spawn…
In 2012, Pravartika Gupta was burned to death as she slept with her one year old daughter because her family did not meet up with the schedule of paying the dowry installments. This comes after the groom’s parents had suddenly decided that they wanted an apartment too, along with the agreed upon demand for a Honda City and over 12 lakh rupees in cash.
The more I delved into my research, the more I began to find stories of women being locked in bathrooms for years, battery acid being poured into their genitals or women being strangled to death as…
AN ENORMOUS FORM OF PROFOUND LIBERATION: AN ODE TO THE HANUMAN
A friend recently told me about how she was so moved by the extraordinary stories that constitute the Harry Potter series that she drew inspiration from it, as if it were a living entity feeding her with energy and joy every time she stepped into Hogwarts’ magical world. …
Don’t tell me Harry Potter isn’t real
For it is hard to believe you ,
Don’t tell me it is a work of fiction
For it is an escape you and I could never imagine .
You may think magic is an illusion
A mere figment of someone’s imagination ,
You may think the characters never existed
But I found solace in them, when in no one else I did.
It has been way better than real people
Who were not there even when they were,
It has always been my escape from reality
My happiness and my solidarity .
And if you tell me it is not real ,
Then I don’t know what is.
And if 10 years down the line
You happen to ask me some day,
‘After all this time ?’
‘Always’, I will say.