Total Pageviews

Follow by Email

Friday, October 24, 2014

Politics of Sexual Control.

Your city where you have lived most, more often than not, is a terrible place to exercise your sexuality, absolutely horrible for maneuvering it in new directions, and a nightmare god forbid if you’re on a path of exploration.
Every space in it is etched with some remnants of who you have been and any unprecedented desire will make you feel treacherous towards yourself killing the will to explore it.
And if spaces weren't enough… there is your social circle and square and grid which commodifies your sexual honor pulling its value up and down as per every little move you make. Parents, relatives, friends, colleagues, institutions, every random person you cross is constantly scrutinizing and negotiating the price of your sexual being.
Negotiating with whom?
Negotiating it with you. Such is its manipulation.
Religion, industries, politics all thrive off stifled sexuality (Sexual freedom is the aspiration underlining every sales pitch, sexual control in case of religion) and they come together and bombard you with propaganda so immense, you think you can escape it but you realize later (and most people never do) that you have just been living on concessions.
Internet offers the much needed respite from this constant vigilance and trade. For how long is a separate story altogether. But over two decades of sexual expression stands on the anonymity provided by the medium which has allowed people to escape and practice their desires.
But the thing about virtual sexual expression is (and this is not a fact but my own observation as an online user of sexual platforms) that rather than working for your existing personality and accessing that, such expression ends up creating a separate persona of you (Based on excess and manufactured aspirations) which it functions with and for … causing dissocia between the person you are on and offline... leaving the offline self of the user unfulfilled just the same.
Travel is another escape which a lot of people resort to, those who can; they go to places where nobody knows them and try to live they sexual life they want. But then again, most just leave all they have discovered behind when they go back and return to the familial tyranny of home.
Lack of discourse on sexuality is one of the main reasons why we are so unequipped to handle our sexual nature. We are quick to declare any unfamiliar behavior or act as perverse and organizations only chance upon the insecurities of the people and stigmatize it as a measure of control, appropriation, regulation, maintaining order and demand etc.
I think it shouldn't be so difficult… for me and everyone else around. I don’t want to be manipulated at every level of my social intercourse. I want an environment where my sexuality flourishes and not for sex' sake, also for sex sake, but for the sake my overall growth and well being. It has to start with me fighting myself and my prejudices and self image but it’s also about the people around me who need to think a little more about what they expect from their sexuality and others’ before putting a tab or tag on it, which is what the controllers want us to do.
Sex is the biggest product in the market and the more uncertainty there is over it… the more curiosity there will be among its consumers, the more ways there are to sell it, and over sell it, in any way the sellers may please. I don’t want to buy something that I must produce for myself. What do you think?

Friday, August 8, 2014

Saturday, July 12, 2014

While you are in the kitchen.

Nothing is stationary.
You make breakfast, and here my hunger is consumed by thoughts, premature. No, not thoughts of you, but what you do. The songs you play seep straight into my guts. Else, nothing is straight.
Everything is dance, and play and whizzing. Your bed is not your bed, but my seat. You are not you but my imagination. But I imagine as I fear. Nothing is straight.

It´s all spaghetti, prepared in homemade tomato sauce mashed with our very own hands, pulped to lust and juice. Yes, juice is the correct word to describe the movement inside me. It has been pouring for over twenty four hours now. That´s how wet I am.  

Friday, May 16, 2014

Ek raat ki baat hai...

Aaj phir poora din nikal gaya, kuch dhoondhaa nahi. Toh ab raat mein kahaaniyon ke peeche nikla hoon.
11:54 ho rahe hai. Koi aisi film mil jaaye jismein apne aap ko dekh sakoon… yaa aur bhi behtar apne aap ko jee sakoon. Kyonki jeevan thoda kas saa raha hai aajkal. Darasal meri baaton mein mat aayiye, lekhak hoon, naa chahte hue bhi cheezon ko tod marod kar keh deta hoon. Par sach mein, seedhe seedhe shabdon mein bhi kahoon to jeevan thoda kam saa lag raha hai aajkal.
Aur filmein poori. Uss poorepan ki talaash mein apni harddrive ki drive par niklaa hoon. Koi chehra aisa dikh jaaye jise bhulaa naa paoon, ya kuch lavs jo mann ke khaalipan mein jagah banaa sake, koi shareer, kisi ki aahein, koi frame, sound track… kuch bhi chelgaa. Darasal soundtrack itna samajh mein nahi aata dil ko, Aaj kal shareer lagta hai zor se...
Filmon se itnaa mil jaata hai ki asal jindagi se ummedein kam karna aasaan ho jaataa hai. Haan kuch filmein kabhi kabhi aisi dikh jaati hai  jo aapki saari thakaan dho deti hai aur achaanak apko nazar aata hai aapka saaf jeevan. Uski saaf gandagi, saaf naainsaafiyaan, shaitaaniyaan, mauke, khushi… khoob saari khushi…
Kya baat kar raha hai… yeh sabh jee raha hoon mein?
Koi kareebi rishteydaar mar jaaye toh rona nahi aata, par filmon mein har chotti si naa khushi aise uthkar aati hai tsunami ki tarah ki bhaagne kaa khayaal bhi nahi aataa. 12:19 ho gaye. Daaye yaa baayein?
Dukh ho raha hai bahut. Pataa nahi kyon… jiss par pyaar aayaa usse keh nahi paaya. Closet drama bahut dekhtaa hoon. Kabhi asal zindagi mein jiya nahi naa… dukh hota hai ki kabhi dukh dekha nahi… warna filmon ki zaroorat hi nahi padti. Kaafi time bach jaataa. Time aur jeevan.
Jeevan ko bachaane mein lagaa hoon bas. Log kehte hai VLC se achchaa koi video player nahi, par mera VLC player aksar ataktaa hai. Update shapdate sab kar kar dekh liyaa.  



Sunday, April 27, 2014

Finding Lucy: In the crowd.

I don't often think about that night. That night when Lucy left me standing outside the purple car, while Lucy was inside.
I stood there in the middle of the desert. Noone to talk to, letching at the prudish moon, all out and big and proud. Lucy, was inside.
I wanted to open the door, get on my knees, and claim Lucy. Or save Lucy, as I dream. But I couldn't. I couldn't help but think, even if it was just out of bitterness, that Lucy didn't deserve it.
About the snake who gives himself so easy into any shape, I wonder about its  reality. I wonder about its power. I wonder in pain. And longing. For my love for it is the same, despite all its grime and deciet.
Lucy was still Lucy, but not the same. Or was it my devotion that had changed? Devotion could be a constant.

About the mud that was upon Lucy, who had gained so much vanity because of what it was upon... She felt happy. But what about Lucy? What had Lucy gained? No, Lucy didn't lose anything. My devotion is a constant.
I wanted to open the door, stand on my feet, and claim that vanity. I knew I could. I could try at least. That happiness would be so much more, the mud can never know, when that happiness would be mine.
But that's the thing. I can't claim Lucy unless Lucy claims me. I will just wait outside the purple car and when Lucy is done, I will drive them home.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Finding Lucy: Forbidden Fruit.

I am afraid. I am afraid to harm you. Or I am afraid of harm.
Harm rests underneath my intentions, even when my intentions may not have been harmful. I resist, I drip, I take muffled full breaths, whenever I am around you, knowing fully well that you are not around.
But that's the thing. I do not know fully well.
Why aren't you anything. Why aren't you anything? Why aren't you factual.
Because I know in fact... you have a body.
If I were to try and touch you... Would you turn back and tell everyone you have the upper hand? 

Friday, April 18, 2014

Finding Lucy.

When Lucy told me he lost his job… I was happy. I was happy to have Lucy home with me. In my head, I imagined that it meant I could have Lucy all to me, without a care for what Lucy wants, if that’s what Lucy needs, in my head, in my pathetic head, I started to dream Lucy while Lucy was there in front of me sipping heat and sweat. Even dust, but in my head, in my pathetic head, dust and Lucy were exclusive.
Lucy told me he was ambitious, if it were so it was my grievous fault to love him like that. And yet in my head, in my pathetic head…
Who are we? Can we stop?
When Lucy drinks nowadays, he drinks a lot. I stock my fridge with everything Lucy doesn't need, in the hope that it would make Lucy need me. But Lucy and I are exclusive. Yet, in my… well, you know!
Lucy doesn’t know how I even live. I clean the kitchen whenever Lucy wants to comes over. All that remains, grease and egg, of the steak I tried to make three nights before, Lucy has never seen. Lucy has no idea, that I am Lucy in my very own way. That, in my head, in my pathetic head, I am Lucy or worse…
Is it because I am Lucy, or it is for Lucy isn't with me. Because if Lucy was… with me, like Lucy is in my pathetic head… we wouldn't be Lucy.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Beloved, love is

The best love is
Love is
Love is the best
The most
The most loved
Is Love
When love
Is Love
It is
The one
Is loved the most
The best
The worst
The most longing
Is for the love
Is for the one you
You never went
Through with
Is love
Is best
Imagined and
Left to love
In you, and you are
The Love
 Is love is you

Best love is
And lived
in your
Love is
Love is
Love is
Love it is
And free
From love there isn’t
That isn’t going to be
But it is
Love is
Your heart
Its nice if you read this after having heard Nina Simone sing in this wonderful video. 

Monday, March 24, 2014

My beautiful fanatic.

So confident about what you're fed.

I was brought to you in the corner of the night
Sleepy and tired, I lied about who I am, because of who you are
And I was in the mood to celebrate.

Yes, celebration got the better of me.

But mistake that not for manipulation
It was fear
And compassion for your madness

Some mid day we may have a meal of good
And tell each other stories
Maybe we will understand, or mostly won't
What is easy
That we have experiences, similar and dissimilar

I hope you Travel, my beautiful fanatic.