Lover's Spit

It crawls onto your skin, slowly and stealthily, covering every inch of you gradually. It's a layer that encompasses you, a bubble that traps you. You try hard to break out, but you can't. No matter how hard you try, it always follows you around like a shadow.

What triggers it? What causes your eternal melancholy to keep coming back to you? 

Is it because you're lonely and unwanted? Is it because you're unloved? Or both? 

You wonder if anybody will ever miss you if you're gone. You contemplate running away from everything and everyone you know, to a remote beach somewhere and work as a daily wage labourer perhaps. 

But you can't let go of your lifestyle. You probably can't rough it out like you think you can.
It crushes you how bothered you are about the fact that what could have been your first international gig fell through because the damn funding never happened. You grow jealous and weary of the more affluent who seem to have the world at their fingertips. You blame your government, you blame your indifference, but mostly you blame your luck for never being by your side.
Tough love.
Tough love is what it's all about. You learn to let go. Better things come to those who are patient, those who persevere.

You go out on a date, your first in over a year. You wonder if he's thinking about you at the exact same moment as you describe to someone what went wrong with you two. You keep it short, detail-less. You've never been one to kiss and tell and you're not changing that about yourself anytime soon.  You don't want to know about him, he's done. The aching heart isn't in fact aching anymore. That empty feeling in your stomach is replaced by what could potentially be a bad hangover.
Hangovers, the worst hangovers over an aching heart. Any day.

Your date is courteous enough to message you the morning after. So it did happen then, you did stick your tongue in his mouth. Or was it the other way round? You can't remember.
You remember kissing him, holding him. You remember him kissing you and holding you.
You had forgotten how good it felt to kiss someone. Was it a good kiss? Was it a bad kiss? You can't remember. There are hickies on your neck which you don't remember getting. Did you leave some on him too? Something tells you that he was the catapult you were looking for.
You smile to yourself trying to recollect the incidents of the previous night. Being single can be fun sometimes, it's not always I-hate-myself-and-want-to-die.

You initiate a conversation with J for the first time in weeks. You chuckle at the thought of a clueless white guy getting hammered on Old Monk. You want to meet him too. You've been stalling for too long. You tell yourself that you will go out with him on a date the next time he asks.
Going on dates can be fun. You need to do this, for yourself.

You stop wondering if he still thinks about you. 
Plenty of fish in the sea. You know it's true.

Why It's Good, no, Best To Quit Facebook

1. People who you like will eventually start acting like assholes, you will loathe their sheer existence at some point and then "unfollow" them because you don't want to be the bitch who unfriends people randomly.

2. Facebook celebrities will kill your drive to actually go out and do something with your life. If a person who is not a public figure (legit model actress musician etc etc) and has over 500 followers and likes on their profile picture, chances are they will make you question everybody's sanity and the level of stupidity the world has come down to.

3. Girls who proudly flaunt pictures of them pouting and looking hot like that's how they look everyday. That shit aint real, who you fooling bitch?

What's worse is when they caption their photograph with quotes and lyrics which have no connection with their pictures.

4. Hipsters flaunting their tastes in music."Have you heard this producer from  Ethiopia bro? He plays povertytrance" No bro I haven't. Go take your hipster sensibilities and shove it up your ass. 

5. Even bigger assholes who proclaim their love for Yo Yo Honey Shit instead of being ashamed of it. This applies particularly to annoying juniors from school and college who's friend requests you shouldn't have accepted in the first place.

6. Pseudo stoners who post pictures of the joints they made out of the shittiest weed one could imagine. True stoners keep shut about their addiction, you poseur assholes! 

7. The ones (like me) who hate on everything and every one. I hate the government. I hate your band. I hate myself and want to die etc etc

8. Overtly-optimistic cunts with "gud morning" type status updates. Good morning? More like গুদমারানি! 

9. People with embarrassingly bad grammar. Get off your computer and attend an english grammar class or something you bunch of wanks. Your parents did not work to put you through a fancy english-medium school for nothing. Have some respect for your teachers who tried to turn an ape into a human. 

10. "Wanna friendship?" Enough said! 

Dj KittyKat

My homies and I were lamenting the fact that DJs are pretty much kicking us in the crotch and taking away our gigs. The new trend of colleges welcoming rave festivals at their fests to support/promote the same is rather alarming and very heartbreaking. 

It's one thing to host EDM festivals. But to play at college fests is nothing less than stupid and arrogant. My beef is not with producers who take the pain to make their music, I have a problem with all the wannabes pressing their spacebar and randomly fiddling with the faders on their board like they even know what they are doing.

It takes years and years of practise and hardwork to learn and master an instrument. A band puts in hours and hours of practise to sound good. But for what? There's always going to be a dick promoter who will book a DJ instead of a band just because it's cheaper and there is less hassle.

Of all the things that I hate about Calcutta, I hate how we're taught from a young age to be humble and respect other artists. But honestly, the more I travel outside, the less respect I have for some artists who are so busy being famous and making money that they forget why they're on stage in the first place. I hate people who take shortcuts. Being smart and being a cunning asshole are two very different things. 

Would you ever pay money to a tailor to perform surgery on you? Then why would you pay a guy with a macbook and a mixtape to be an artist at your event, isn't that musicians are for?

I attended the Bonobo concert last year in Mumbai and I don't know if it was the drugs or the band, but I had a great time. I am a huge fan of Simon Green's, but I probably would have skipped the gig had it been a dj set. It doesn't move me, to see some dude up on stage alone doing practically nothing. I'd rather sit at home and read a book, or better play the ukulele to relax and unwind. 

If you want to dance and have a good time then why not stay at home, invite your people and play your favourite CD! Why pay tickets to go watch someone repeatedly press their spacebar and pretend like it's so much work! 

I've been pushing myself to become a better musician over these last few years. I'm teaching myself to play more musical instruments and produce my music. Believe me, that is a lot of work! I'm not even taking into account the vocal practises and band practises which literally break my back sometimes. But for what? 

It's bad enough that I have very few role models because women are more interested in being glamorous and not enhancing their skills. What's worse is how the very few women who do take music seriously almost never come into the spotlight. The Indian media is strange and rather shamelessly chauvinist. 

Sometimes I think I could just change into my hotpants, a crop top and be a DJ, sell the default sex appeal that I have as a woman. 

If I were a DJ, I'd be DJ KittyKat.

But if I were to become a DJ, please don't hesitate to shoot me in the head. 

New Beginnings/Closure

It's the little things in life, like waking up to a message and maybe your heart skips a beat. That sinking feeling caused by someone else starts to fade slowly. You learn to pick yourself up with time. Start over.

This is pretty much the third time J's asked me out on a date, nothing fancy, just drinks perhaps. It's not even a date sort of a date, but I've been stalling it every time. He's incredibly attractive and quite the brains too. Almost too perfect, too good to be true.

I am so incredibly scared. What if we don't click? What if he doesn't like me? What if we run out of things to talk about? Will there be a second date if I were to accept? 

I want to take it slow this time around, I don't want to drop my clothes right away, my guard with it.

We never talk about romance or anything romantic. He doesn't flirt, neither do I.

Is this how adults initiate something? A relationship or a friendship perhaps? I spend my day on my own, doing my things. But it's nice to have someone to talk to, about random things when I'm feeling lonely. Politics, sports, the economy, sociology etc etc.

The thought of fucking him doesn't cross my mind as much as having a deep, intellectual conversation with him does. 

Am I growing up, into a woman? Isn't this how ladies behave? Random hookups don't excite me anymore, fooling around is for kids. I'm looking for something real this time. I want fidelity, I want security. I don't want steamy sex if it comes at the cost of feeling abandoned afterwards.

Being the child in a relationship has brought me a lot of pain and honestly it is all my fault because I have been making all the wrong choices. I pick someone who is completely wrong from the start, thinking I can change them, thinking my love will change them. But it almost never works. "Time is a flat circle" and people keep doing and redoing the same things over and over again, nobody ever changes.

I met someone the other day who reminded me of myself a year or so back. It's lovely when someone makes you dream of the glorious future, but I pray that she stays safe and he treats her right. A precious flower, hope he doesn't crush her and abandon her, like they've done to me. I want to tell her to be strong and brace herself incase she is thrown into a storm but I think she'll learn and grow on her own anyway.

I envy some people. Their lives are simple and they are happy. Stupid people are always happy because they don't think too much. I wish I could be stupid for a day, maybe I'd be happy too.

The initial stages of attraction are always the greatest. You know you're going to fall in love eventually, it's only a matter of time

But I'm going to be strong this time. I will toughen up by choice. I am tired of crying myself to sleep and having my heart crushed to bits.

I want to be with someone who loves me and treats me right. My demands are simple. But I'm not going to compromise this time around.

I deserve something great, if not the best. I didn't kiss all the frogs for nothing, get scarred by them. 

Young Drunk Punk

Baby steps,
one by one.
I'll only talk to you if you talk to me.
Ask me questions.
And I'll answer.

We're all so lonely,
trying to find someone to hold on to
For comfort.
Across continents and different time zones.

What if we never meet again?
Will you remember my face?
What else will you remember?

Baby steps this time around,
I can't keep making the same mistakes over and over again.
You teach me how to love myself
And I'll bare my soul to you one day.

Let's talk about this city.
Let's solve its mysteries.
Lets fall in love.
A cross-cultural love affair.
Torrid and passionate.
You keep me safe.
I'll keep you sane.


But I don't want to rush anymore
I have all the time in the world to find you
I know you're out there somewhere
For me.
Just for me.

50 Shades of Meh.

I don't get what the hype is all about, honestly. I tried to read the book and it put me to sleep, especially the "bdsm" bits.
I am a huge fan of dominance and subordination. I wonder if that makes me some kind of a pervert, yet I can't help but enjoy it.
What sexually active woman will not get excited at the thought of being roughed up a little. Women are not the doe-eyed sacrificial lambs they pretend to be, they like it dirty as much as men do. Well definitely some, if not all.

I like a man who takes control behind closed doors. I can't help it. I don't want to mother a virgin, I enjoy men, not boys. Sex like that is energising, more satisfactory. Vanilla is good, vanilla is great for everyday life. But why not shake things up a little sometimes?
A was a spanker and it was quite the departure from what I expected from him. He would like to spank me little, once or twice before we did it from behind. His palms reigned firm blows on my cheeks, I'd cry out. Moan. He'd check to see if I had become embarrassingly wet. Usually, it did. It turned me on instead of angering me or making me run for cover. I wanted more, never said no. It became a habit for us to do it so incredibly rough and hard and then balance it out with some vanilla after. It's weird how being punished made me feel more turned on than freaked out. It's liberating to be spanked sometimes. But not jokingly, pansily. Firm, strong, painful strokes.
The greatest pleasure is always in pain, always. You have to be very strong, only then can you truly enjoy pleasure. Like the act of having your body ravaged. Letting somebody scratch lines on your back, making you bleed a little. If it feels good, then it's got to be right. Right and wrong are rather relative.

Good girls go to heaven and bad girls have the best sex.

Cuff me, collar me, blindfold me, gag me, asphyxiate me, spank me, cut me, fuck me. Keep it real. We are animals at the end of the day. Civilisation is a myth, it's all for survival. Pleasure prompts survival. Do your bit.

I cannot recollect the number of orgasms I've had every time I've been handled with firmness. Almost too firm, too rough. I'm a thin girl, a man should have the ability to throw me around a little sometimes, use a little force to overpower me perhaps. A man knows the fine line between being dominant and rape-y. I like trusting a man. The sex is always better that way.
I'm a lioness, I am wild.
I don't care about the size of your dick. I judge you by what you do with it. You can have the biggest dick in the world and yet it wouldn't be enough to satisfy me. I need you to take control of my body, use it at your will, for your pleasure once in a while.