Still

I am still lying in your arms

Your breath is still in my Hair

Those hands are still rubbing my cold nose

And we are still so close

We are still giggling together

Taking those walks in the gloam

You are still watching me deep

And I am in my dreams

I am still the silly girl making you laugh

And you are still the boy driving us far

We are still in the light then when came the night

The wrong so turned right

If this still could become still

Maybe life wouldn't have moved on

And here the wise say

Love may be a delusion but the pain is real

Mirror Mirror on the Wall....

The beautiful race that bears life and endless secrets within, who keeps her family happy with her culinary skills and her boss with her encephala, yes its a woman.

It is the innate desire of every woman to look beautiful and complimented by the coterie.To always be in vogue is the key which most of us feel. Fashion is the word very close to the heart of every woman but most of the time it is misinterpreted. All of us have the fantasy to appear like the celebrities catching up with the same dressing and coiffure but this is where the cataclysm happens.

Our bodies are not mannequins, we need to understand its contour and select the right kind of silhouette accordingly. Wearing an off-shoulder or a backless won’t win you accolades. Even wearing the labels are not an eye catcher. The yen to wear something just because it looks good on someone else and is inn doesn’t help us in glorifying our persona. Whatever we wear must show the refulgence on our face and a mind out of any qualms.

Discovering the Aphrodite within us is very important. The very ‘I’ needs to be heard to discover our own self which very well lies in simplicity. Simplicity never becomes a fad and is eternal .Just believe in our self with complete aplomb and each one of us are the Helen of Troy.

Good Girl Unveiled

Homework on time...milk glass bottoms up...sleeping at 9 and all my Humpty Dumpty and Baba black sheeps conned...simple imperatives to be a good girl.

The kindergarten was now in senior high and more adjectives were required to be check listed to be that coveted good girl.Had to score a 90 percent and above(the brilliant lot),genteel in public and carry the anorak look with grace.

Went to college and parents with their eyes full of concern and expectations left me in the new cosmos.This was my "Ranbhoomi"(battleground)...I was the King and I was the slave.Hardly slumbered on time,loved to be a backbencher and bunking a class to go for a movie was such a therapy.Wore according to my mood and ate for my temptations.Had i become icky???I wasn't being rebellious nor it was some vagaries i would say it was just accretion to my persona.

As a sophomore with my thinking cap on I ruminated and my search for the "girl good " in me ended.I realized this good girl need not always be abode before the gloam,not always be 'comme il faut'....she just needs to be sensitive to her surrounding and truthful to her scruples.

Diary of Woman of the Street

My vulva is new to this salacity...and my soul burns with each coitus.Unseasoned I was and a sudden whirlwind brought all seasons of my life to an end.Some bad people brought me to this bad world and then I lost the right to be called good, their a tainted figure I was.

Do i have a choice to say no....can i say please wear a condom becuse precaution is good.Do i have right to live like a human or was i born to be animaled.

My democratic country has myriad laws ...but i m unable to access the most basic ones becuase my complete existence is illegitimate.Am I just a device for pleasure?

I dont enjoy when my children are ostrasized and people yell at them.I m scared of the day my kids would become orphans as AIDS is a menace among us.

My home is no Mahatma Gandhi Marg or Bhagat Sight Chowk but a Red Light Street where Red doesn't mean Love.

Life...Love...etc

That finger which I clasped so tightly,the lap in which in I slept with such equanimity.Her flowing saree and his pricking whiskers on my cheeks told me I was in my haven.These people loved me knowing my petulant nature and my capacity of recalcitration.These people are called parents.That time trepidation was no word for this feather-bedded child.

Growing up , had different stories.Adolescence was teaching how to make friends and things were crystal clear that people will like you (love becomes obscure) when you qualify certain norms set by them you may be part of their coterie.As small world was swelling up things were getting more convoluted.The gentle love was becoming a scarce element in life.

As a young lady I got familiar with words like infidelity,insecurity, coquette-ism,mistrust,this new alien world was scary for this little girl who new only unfeigned nature of love.People were in relations just for the pulchritude appeal of it which had little tolerance.We moved from one person to another for that insatiable hunger for love.In this saga some became phlegmatic,some compromised on their definitions of love and some got their soul mates.

This makes this macrocosm filled with more questions and less answers.I ponder its the the first time i felt the bliss of love or the second or maybe it was never true or it is yet to come and hence making only the moment a reality.