Date Set Match

The year draws to an end, it’s a good time to reflect on every adventure along the way. This was the year of romance, of the most wonderful dates.

I don’t understand why millennials don’t go out on dates. Not ‘let’s go to a fancy bar, get drunk out of our minds and have sloppy sex after’ but actual dates, where you get to know one another through what seems like inane activities to the outside world.

Last week in Bombay, a lovely man and I went to a museum, a local eatery and then to a bookstore. We spent hours marvelling at art, architecture and talking about everything from politics to literature to sexuality and human psychology. There was no “end game” to end up in bed together. 

I guess why I enjoy the company of men who are slightly older is because they’ve passed that “going to fuck every thing that moves” phase. Don’t get me wrong, they can be extremely horny but always more selective about their partners. They need something more than my lithe body, they need my mind. It excites me, their ability to see me as a person and not just an object of desire.

In monsoon, when I was hitting it up with ** he insisted that we do a proper dinner date atleast once. “Why? We’re fucking anyway” I protested. “You kids today have no dating etiquette” he’d convinced me to dress up, wear makeup and act like an adult lady and everything. Dinner was great, he couldn’t take his eyes off me (in a saree) and to be fair he looked like a dreamboat too, in his dinner jacket and tie. We drank single malt and talked science and philosophy. We took our time and enjoyed every second of each other’s company. “What do you want for dessert?” “You” “Oh you youngling. Want to share the cheesecake?” It was such a nice day. “Don’t you want to come upstairs?” I asked him as he dropped me home later at night. He merely smiled, kissed me on the mouth, thanked me for the company and reminded me once again how beautiful I looked. I blushed like a teenager, felt giddy and lightheaded. He waited downstairs till I got inside safely. “I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry, we can fuck then. Tonight I wanted to take you out on a date and romance you” 

I put the single long stemmed rose into a glass since I don’t have a vase at home yet, slept with a smile on my face that night.

Boyfriend boy and I did a series of dates as well. Just walking around, exploring nooks and corners of the city. He’d hold my hand as we strolled in the evenings. Sometimes we’d get some ice cream, sit around somewhere and people watch on the streets. Sometimes we’d pop into any cute little café that’d pique our interest. We’d grab a lot of eyeballs when on the road and the devil would hold me a little too close or grab my hand and pull me towards him every time a group of people were watching. “Give them a show” “why not.”

It was sweet really, it became almost instinctive towards the end to sleep like a baby at night with his arms around me. I’ll miss the bloke every now and then, just napping and eating and watching stupid junk with him.

But my favourite date was actually the one which wasn’t a date at all. We took a break from fucking, Mister Hotstuff and I, went out for some ice cream at night. Later, we lay together and read, his eyes set on the book with deep concentration and his fingers tracing the contours of my body lightly as I fidgeted around, sometimes photographing him not-so-discreetly. It was beautiful, something straight out of a fantasy almost. It helped that it was monsoon and my cunt was so hungry for him. I liked that it didn’t take too much persuading for him to stay the night. I’ll admit I did feel a little bit sad when he left but I went back to sleep and woke up still feeling his loving. 

One will argue that romance cannot really exist in a world of instant messaging and social media but I’d beg to disagree. In a world increasingly focussed on fomo, I guess it’s the golden moments of simple things that really make you feel alive and more loved than ever before. 

Lust4U

I’m piss-drunk at 4am and thinking about your hands, your mouth and what they do to me.

Will I ever see you again, my beautiful Salt n’ Pepper man? 

I crave,

I yearn,

I long for you.

I reach out for my phone almost instinctively, figure it’s not too late where you are. Maybe you’ll indulge me like you usually do. Only this time, I refrain.

Come to me. 

I’ll welcome you with open arms 

and legs.

The Liberation Of S

As the year draws to a close, I have to painfully let them all go. It isn’t masochism, but practicality. The ones who come back are the ones who stay in my life forever. My vulnerability can be a beautiful thing as I allow them deep inside me, but I’m not stupid, I can’t let them get inside my head either. 

There’s the fantasy, the one who’s way out of my league. Our chemistry is incredible, so sexual. I quiver at his slightest touch, am left reeling long after he’s gone. But he’s significantly older, I don’t know which version of myself to be when I’m with him. He’s a bad, bad boy who’s bound to break my heart if I allow myself to fall without a safety net. 

The ‘boyfriend’ is everything I could possibly want in a man in every other parallel universe. He’s smart, he’s sensitive and he’s the kind of man who holds my hand when we’re out on the streets and can spend hours and hours just talking to. We fuck like bunnies, it’s athletic and experimental. Sometimes we also cuddle and make sweet, sweet love. I don’t understand why I build my walls around him actually, he’s been so good to me so far. He keeps me safe from my nightmares. But I feel greedy, I need something more. 

Daddy Dominant is the oldest man I’ve ever been with. He’s kind as he is assertive. I get to be a child around him, awkward and eager to learn, eager to please. It’s a strange dynamic because I’m nothing like that outside of the bedroom. I enjoy following his instructions, he enjoys how my body reacts to him when he’s deep inside of me. Our relationship, sadly, remains confined to the house because I don’t know who it’d be to go out on an actual date with him. I don’t think I even want to.

Master puts me on a tight leash when he thinks I’m straying too far. He doesn’t like that there are others, but he knows he can’t control me outside of our little arrangement. I don’t have a problem with the other submissives, if he has any, so he doesn’t have a say in my choice to be with other lovers either. Honestly, this plays out just like a pornographic movie. He’s got all the works but I have a sinking feeling in my heart that he’s starting to fall in love. Our games are always fun, the orgasms are extra ordinary but it’s only a matter of time before he breaks. Love is a strange, strange thing and happens under the most unexpected circumstances. But I know I have to cut him off at some point, it’s for his own good.

Sexual liberation is a superpower in times like these. No matter what the kink, the key is always mutual understanding and trust. It’s rare but my dynamic with all these men are so different from one another, like they all fill voids in me which I didn’t even know existed. I am a mirror, projecting their best versions to themselves. 

I can only love so much because I’ve spent a lot of time relearning to love myself. I need them just as much as they need me. Or maybe not at all...

Strict Machine

“I’d like for to address me as Sir from now on”

“You forgot to say Sir. Do I have to punish you already?”

“I’m sorry Sir. No, please don’t.”

“Every sentence should end with a Sir. Don’t make the same mistake again babygirl. You will be punished the next time you make a mistake” 

 

Daddy Dominant

Bat my eyelids for you, you think it’s cute?

I know you fancy me like I fancy you.

But my awkwardness is no match for your grace.

So I learn a little from you every time.

Reward me for my dedication, punish me when I’m naughty.

I know you crave for me like I crave for you. 

But your cynicism is no match for my naivety.

So I teach you to love a little more every time. 

Keep me safe in your arms when I’m vulnerable , cuff me when I’m arrogant. 

You know who I am.

You know who I am. 

2B

“So this is the last time then, I guess”

There’s no mood to fuck today, despite the physical urgency. But it’s hard to abstain at the same time. There’s undeniable chemistry between us and it’s such a shame that it has to come to a brief halt, if not a complete end.

It’s kind of sad. The sound of the dhaak plays in the distance. I insist that we don’t play any music today. There’s no point, it’ll only sound like noise. 

It’s a dance we’re both familiar with by now. But by no means montonous, we’re just incredibly in sync with each other. I wonder how hard it’s going to be to not feel him inside me anymore. I want to hang on to the feeling for as long as I can. 

I feel slightly chilly, there’s goosebumps on my skin. But he holds me, we cover ourselves with a flimsy bedsheet. He stares at the cieling as he holds me. “Surreal”, he mumbles.

I feel strange. Is this what it feels like to let go even though neither of you want to? “You make me happy, you really do”

“I wish we could have lasted slightly longer. I was starting to get so used to you”

“Surely you won’t replace me immediately? If you do, don’t do the little things we do okay? I want to be special”

You are, baby, you are. 

Somehow I feel like the more adult one for a change. I’m trying my best to console a heartbroken child. 

“I’ll serenade you”, I kiss him endlessly.

Dawn is breaking slowly. I’m physically exhausted. Well loved but drained nevertheless. “Was it a good enough last time for you?”

I don’t say anything. I bury my face in his chest just like the first time and fall asleep like baby. It’s a dreamless sleep, my reality is sometimes more overwhelming than my fantasies. 

“Wil you come visit me?”

I want to but I don’t know if I should. 

I

My love is home,

where you spend playful afternoons

And the occassional sleepless night.

My love is a crumpled quilt on the bed,

for a cool, rainy morning.

My love is a warm of of tea at dusk.

And you can have it, you will always have it. 

Fascination

It takes me a moment to process everything. I’m still unsure of the implications of my situation. I want him, inside me, again and again.

There’s something about him, oh the sexual tension. He’s not my partner, he’s not my friend. He’s my sexdaddy.

I like clutching his salt and pepper hair as he buries his face between my legs. Oh, that tongue. The nasty, wonderful things it does it me. I shake and quiver, I beg him to stop. “You know my body’s not going to be this way forever, so tight, so firm” I joke, “what then, would you still find me attractive?” “I’ll be too old to even have an erection by that time” he retorts snarkily. “You’re not that old” “Oh yea? And how old is too old, you youngling?” I mumble his age as I burst out laughing and kiss him. 

I like his smell on me after we’ve finished, even though I’ve showered. He asks me to stay the night, he always does. “I can’t” “Why,is it past your bedtime?” “No, I’ll fall in love” “oh you really are a piece of work, aren’t you!” 

He kisses me as my cab arrives. “Text me once you get back?” “Geez, grandpa, I’ll be fine” he laughs and I recieve a firm smack on the bottom. 

He’s a good man, great lover. Maybe if he were a little bit younger I’d consider letting him in a little bit more. I’m fascinated, more than anything.

But if I did have to choose, it’d be the light eyed boy. 

What Now?

I’ve laid out all my cards on the table.

What next, what now?

The voice in my head is worried,

“What if no body loves me like you did again?”

It’s such a shame, I was starting to get used to feeling so good about myself.

Come Together

The moonlight pours in through the windows, I seem to have lost control of my brain and my body.

On top, it's like I'm not even present. I’m somewhere else, I’m with you. 

Familiar sensation, familiar contours of your body, familiar taste of your mouth. I can't even begin to describe how good it feels. I'm about to implode, I can't handle so much pleasure.

We kiss, we orgasm together. My heart is breaking to let you go, but that's not love now is it. 

I will love you, keep you in my heart always and forever. 

Implosion

I tried to count today, the number wouldn't fit on my fingertips. 

That's a sign, too many.

I don't remember most. I only slightly remember how I felt at the time. 

Call it a day, hang up the boots.

But there's still so much more to experience for the first time.

Or is there?

So deep inside of me,

I wish you stay forever. 

Cold Cold Man

I can't see into the future,

A future, 

any future.

How did it get so incredibly difficult to navigate?

I want to close my eyes, stay in bed, hold him and sleep. Keep me safe from my nightmares, even if it's only a temporary solution.

I like how we're both so sober and he'll kiss me down there for hours. Not to return some sort of a favour but because he genuinely enjoys my taste.

So wet, as I run my hands through his grey, salt & pepper hair. He'll lick me clean again and again, I'm in paradise.

Later, he'll hold my hand when he's deep deep inside of me. I don't want to listen to what he whispers into my ears. 

In my mind I want him to be a cold, cold man so I don't fall in love.

But he isn't. He'll kiss me long after we've finished. Together. Oh no, why can't he make things easy for me and be some sort of a charming villain instead? 

Choose

I know you want to fuck me, there's nothing more to it than that. You're a decade older, my body is firm and tight in all the right places.

But you're never going to allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to make love to me now would you?

I like sleeping in his arms, he holds me tight and I feel secure like a child. He hugs my abandonment issues away.

You're so fucken Brian Kinney when all I really want is a Mike to my Phoebe 

"boyfriend"

Modern day relationships are hard. Harder still if you don't like conventional things and patterns. 

I hate the "what are we" cloud that looms over when you start spending a lot of time with someone. I guess I've been so busy having affairs and fairy tale romances that I've forgotten what the correct dating etiquette is.

My brain goes into panic mode when we start to fight. "Why am I fighting with him, he's not my boyfriend...but he is, isn't he? Oh shit!"

I haven't done this for so long, for fuck's sake, I don't do boyfriends, I have lovers. Sure, I'm telling myself that under my breath but the moment he arrives I know we're back to doing coupley things like cooking and lazing and fucking and cuddling and sleeping and that. 

I won't lie to myself but he feels more like a partner than just a lover, a muse. There's something about the sex too, I feel like I could let this one be a longer story than I'd originally anticipated. 

But oh well, what do I have to lose, I'm in love and that makes all my anxiety go away. 

Lover, Come Back Reprise

I miss feeling lightweight, carefree and soulful.

I miss you, I really do.

I let my mind wander, relive lazy days of monsoon, snuggling on my makeshift bed.

The city's dull, everything's all wrong, my heart is not in it anymore.

When you come back I'll shower you with kisses and cuddles and everything sugary sweet.

And even when you insist, I won't let you go..

A Thing

The man with grey hair and a sparkle in his eyes,

he tells me what he will to do to me,

he whispers naughty, naughty things.

I'm wet so wet so wet.

"Keep your eyes open"

Badbye

Baby, I will miss your big strong arms around me.

I will miss the light in your eyes, your face, your taste, your touch, your smell.

I will miss all the laughing and all the cuddling.

I will miss the intimacy, the stories and the adventures.

I will miss listening to your heartbeat.

I will miss the warmth of your soul.

I'm going to miss how easy you made it to fall in love with you, stay there. 

I will miss you, I will miss who I am when I'm with you.

Beautiful monsoon, lover, thank you. 

Baby Did A Bad, Bad Thing

"It's okay...it's okay" he says as he comforts me with his kisses.

I am in pain, well out of my comfort zone and rather intimidated.

"Can I come?"

Later, even after we've showered, I smell of his cologne. I smell of sex.

He enjoys my body. I enjoy his instructions.

"I don't do boyfriends...I have lovers"

Monsoon, you've turned out to be real special haven't you! 

Countdown

It's begun, the race against time.

The clock's ticking so fast, you'll be gone before I know it.

Beautiful pain.

Beautiful heartache.

And yet it doesn't scare me when he holds me and we sleep.

He's deep, so deep inside of me. I am vulnerable.

Gentle kisses, firm grip.

Our bodies entwine in ways unimaginable.

Lover, thank you for loving me. 

Product of Trauma

So deep rooted, it runs in my blood,

perhaps it is an essential part of my being,

I cry a little after the alcohol has hit my system,

unwillingly reliving some dark moments,

of unimaginable trauma.

I grow up, grow apart.

I run run run, 

like a shadow,

it follows,

my long history of unimaginable trauma. 

Anxiety

The vulnerability of familiarity,

the subsequent trauma of attachment,

I feel terribly sad.

I want the moment to last forever and after.

Kiss me, keep kissing me.

That's the only way to cheat time.

Hold me, hold me like our first time.

I want to stay in your arms forever. 

The night is long but unfortunately finite. 

Lover, You're All I Think About

Disease, like a drug.

You're all I think about.

I'm impatient.

I want your touch, I want your taste, I want your smell.

I want you inside me,

again and again and again. 

You leave me in a daze, my sense of reality is warped.

I only want your company, your time.

Sublime.

It's a feeling I haven't felt in a long, long time. 

26 and Then Some

It feels a little bit strange to see my beautiful boy this way. Of all the people I've cut out, he always found a way to claw right into my inner circle, my pillars of strength.

There've been so many birthdays of the boys landing up at 12am to wish me and get me hammered till I've knocked myself out. It's excruciating to not have him by my side as I go on my adventures. We're the same age now, I tell him. I remind him that it's my birthday. His stare is empty.

Beautiful boy, oh my beautiful boy, it's a long long road but you'll find your way home. We're all in this together. 

Nightmare

I'll have these recurring nightmares where you're still married and I'm the whore.

I'm so young, so young.

You're so charming.

Morning After

Even though we'll lay after, cuddle and talk about who we are, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by all the baggage I unintentionally carry.

I see his eyes change. There's no longer laughter but a deep concern. "Don't, I'm quite alright now"

...but am I?

I try and break my patterns, so careful to not set new  ones. For a brief moment I forget, I forget it all. The scars heal, they become horror stories that often incite more sadness than disgust. 

"I'm quite alright now...I guess" detaching myself to go smoke a cigarette outside.

But I crave for his touch, run back to him almost immediately.

I hate how safe I feel in his arms as he coaxes me to fall asleep. I hate how good it feels. I hate how he holds me and I bury my face in his chest. It'll be different when we wake up. I hate him for being so incredibly wonderful. How do I demonise him, my lover? I hate that I can't.

I kiss him, I kiss him for long. There's no music, only the sound of rain. I swear it's better than what they'd show you in movies. I eventually fall sleep, worn out, he holds me. I wish he wouldn't, it'd make it easier to let go later but he holds me tight. He doesn't let go.

When it ends I'll pinch myself so I know it wasn't all a dream. 

Bend and Unbreak

Like the frames straight out of a porno, my body contorts in strange new ways. 

Off the ground, holding on.

He says he likes how tiny I am. To be fair, I equally enjoy how big he is.

Wet wet wet, so wet.

Hard to imagine I'd be dry like the Sahara a few months ago. I guess the wait makes it all worth it.

26 in a few days and I'm easing myself into a brand new phase. Physically, I feel great. With all the hours  of asanas I put into my body, I see it do wonderous new things. My body feels firm and yet supple. My body feels mine. It helps my pride that the men I've been with lately have been good lovers in every sense of the word. No games, no sadism, only love. So I guess there's no point of looking back, the present is all I have. The present feels good.

Daddeh

My bed feels lonely without your presence, my head is all kind of distracted. 

It's so beautiful, the sound of rain against the windowsill. 

I can't wait to see you again. I won't wait to see you again.

Go on your adventures as I go on mine.

Come back when you want to, I'll still be your little girl.

Always and forever. 

Kissing In The Room Of Mirrors

He bends down unexpectedly to kiss me, oh wow, he's really tall isn't he.

We're in the room of mirrors. Infinite images, a moment preserved in time.

Monsoon is for romance, monsoon is to find myself over and over again. 

The Oldest/Youngest I've Been

With another birthday round the corner, I'm strangely indifferent about it. What do I want from life this next year? I don't really know. At this point I'm grateful to be alive, somewhat sane.

It feels a little bit strange to not have the usual pillars around but I guess the good thing about ageing is that you start looking inward for peace, meaning and you learn to slowly stop projecting on others all the nasty things in your head.

I feel strangely young and so old at the same time. Maybe I'll run again, for this birthday but the soberiety feels really good. It's only helped that all my recent romantic liasons have been extremely sober men with extremely progressive minds. There is no fuzzy cloud around my brain. I am very well aware of moments and I'm very eager to keep it that way.

I walk around town with a lovely man, we end up spending a lot more time together than expected just talking...about everything and anything. There is no rush, in true Calcutta style, we take it slow slow slow. He's so tall and lean. Eyes blue and shining bright in the monsoon sun, I like the physicality. But I like his head, the stories more. I guess that's what growing up does to one, you start looking for deeper relationships, ones that fill your soul a little bit in their own ways. Every story is different, every story matters a lot more. 

Still working my way around abandonment issues, my brain is careful to not get fixated on magical occurrences of the recent past. Sure there are explicit memories and some photographs but I'm learning to let go gracefully.

It's like a boomerang. Comes back, whatever you send out, into the universe.

Hate for hate.

Love for love. 

The Education of S

I have been doing the best I can to please him. My skills feel juvenile but my intent is gold.

Baby's so big, you might choke me.

I know you like it, I like it too.

I could do this all night long, pleasure you. 

The Seduction Of S

Man in the mirror, I submit to you.

Ravage me, tear me apart.

But glue the pieces back together with your kisses before you leave.

Your touch sets my soul on fire. 

Manhood, I'm your little girl. 

Photograph me, undress me, spank me, touch me, taste me, lick me, bend me, caress me, explore every inch of my being.

Open the floodgates. 

Make use of my pretty mouth. I want to swallow you whole. 

Shake me, make me, teach me, free me, love me, kiss me, fuck me, break me, pleasure me, be inside me till I explode. 

Manhood, I'm your petite little princess. 

Le Petit Prince

The universe works in strange and sometimes incredibly beautiful ways...it does, it does.

As we lay caressing each other, talking shop The Little Prince came up. He'd never read it and being the dutiful child that I am, I scanned my bookshelf for it, completely oblivious to the fact that the copy I had was one I wanted to give to someone I was falling in love with at the time. I tried to hide it but he wouldn't let me. We wrestled, I was desperate to hide it but I didn't stand a chance. He was a strong man, he was an older man. I lost. He read the note, he read the damn note. 

I sat there feeling so stupid, so incredibly stupid. Here I was, with this beautiful man full of wisdom and grace and I was just a stupid little kid with notes in books. Unrequited love, oh the shame. So awkward and clumsy, a side of me which I cannot show to the world because I'm so vulnerable. But he didn't think of it as stupid, he didn't think it was silly at all. "I like writing notes and letters", I paused, "but everybody seems to think it's stupid and a little bit crazy"

"It's not stupid, it's wonderful...crazy, yes but also beautiful" or something on those lines, he quipped. He joked about the dendrite abuse killing my grey cells, I joked about his age making him senile. We laughed, we kissed, we cuddled, we fucked. We went out for ice cream and he bought me a bunch of essential medicines because I only had Savlon at home. Alright, that's another adult thing that had completely skipped my mind. "Love, you've got to have some basic medicines at home in case of emergencies"

He held me as we walked, sneaking in a kiss or two. We spoke about Calcutta and how monsoon is my favourite time of the year here. We came back home, he looked at me as I pranced around, fidgeted. He smiled. "What?" I kept asking him as I blushed. 

I felt this weight being lifted off my chest. Later at night, he lay with me and we read the book together. 

"What makes you like the fox part so much?"

"I don't know...I just do"

"So...you think it's a silly little book, don't you?" There wasn't a chance I would impress this man with my ideals so I didn't even try I guess. 

"No, it's quite adult actually" he stroked my body. I could feel my life coming a full circle. It wasn't like any other time before.

His touch made me so wet, so wet. I admired his hands for a long time. Hands of a surgeon, hands of a wise man, hands of a lover. Hands of my lover. 

Doctor Salt and Pepper, I was his pet. I was his meek little monkey. Something in me had been undone, I was ready to submit to him. Completely. I did as he wanted, I let him do as he pleased but not once did he abuse the trust. He fucked my brains out, he made love to me. He did what he had promised, loved me all night long. 

"You're the oldest person I've been with so far" 

I guess somewhere down the line I grew so accustomed to having my walls up high that I forgot how good it felt to be touched, to be made love to.

Sobriety invokes strange emotions. Beautiful, pure.

I orgasmed like I've never before. There was no crutch, no haze around my brain. As he entered me deep it felt like the climax that I deserved. It was a climax like no other.

We ended together and as we slept, I clutched his body tight, buried my face in his chest. Safe in his arms, I was a little girl again. 

Floatation Devices

I've woken up alarmingly early for a Sunday and there's no hangover despite the cheap alcohol that's gone into my system the night before. Turns out drunk me is considerate enough to do the dishes and not leave them overnight. Oh well, small victories I guess.

The mixes are taking some time for me to wrap my head around but the finish line is getting close, quite close. Eight songs, many orgasms and a few bad apples here and there. Balance. L-R.

I tell A that I want to see him. He tells me something I cannot quite understand. Turns out he's trying to phrase something in hindi and google translate is a little bit of a fail. It's rather cute. He's so adorable, even from miles and miles away, through a damn computer screen. What a beautiful soul, I think to myself. There's not a hint of jadedness or cruelty in him. It feels unreal almost. Also, that accent, so yum! I could listen to him talk forever, it's a party in my pants. But superficiality aside, there's something strikingly different about his worldview. He sees me as a lover, always and forever. He doesn't want to own me, possess me like some sort of a commodity. He doesn't want to destroy me. He only wants to love me, make love to me. Mon petit prince, mon cœur, mon amour. 

Lover lover lover,
lovers everywhere.

I'm still friends with so many of them. They come around, they always do. The way I see it, after a while the sexual intimacy becomes secondary. I've come a full circle with some of them. We go our own ways, we live our own lives and yet sometimes we end up going home together and sleeping in each other's arms.

Life sometimes throws these little inside jokes and you can't help but marvel at how wonderfully weird it can get.


Anyway, it's Sunday and I have to mop the floors and pay the bills today. Mundane would be an understatement. My fingers are sore from playing too much guitar but like a drug I know I'll start getting itchy in a while and abandon domestic responsibilities to go noodle around for a little bit.



Sometimes in life, you have to jump into the sea without the safety of a floatation device. If you trust the universe, you'll always end up finding something to hold on to. I don't want to reach the shore. For now I'm happy swimming and not drowning. My floatation devices will help me withstand the scariest storms.
Trust.
It's always been more important than love.

Demon

The tentacles pull you further down into the deep, deep ocean. You're helpless like a child. You're running out of breath, you're forgetting how to swim.

How soon is now, how much longer?

Some days are harder than most, you try and yet you can't think of a reason to hold on. Letting go has never felt so easy. Write it all down on a piece of paper, articulate the thoughts and try to blame no one else but yourself.

The trance-like state induced by meditation starts to get harder, darker. There is a strange kind of manic euphoria. Like the queen who rises from the underbelly of shit and duplicity and destruction, you transcend. The moments are rare but you know, only you know that it exists. You're careful not to tell anyone. They wouldn't believe you, they haven't seen what's on the other side. It is difficult to fathom so they brush it away, going about their daily, circular existence. The loop goes on and on.That one infinite moment of peace (?)...is not for everyone, it is the most elusive, most sacred thing you can experience.

On nights you try to embrace sobriety, no longer feeling the urge to run away. What are you running from? You're running in circles, never ahead.

How soon is now? 

How soon is now? 

Eat your vegetables. Do your kegels. Don't let fuckboys mess with your head. 

Matriarch

Of what use is my voice if I don't lend it to those who are unable to speak, fight for themselves?  The instincts are starting to change, blossom in areas I assumed were dead and barren. There will be no turning point, turning back. There cannot be. If destiny is pre-determined then there is no choice, is there?  Awareness is optional, suffering is constant. 

"The Light Of My Life/The Fire Of My Loins"

The trouble with great literature is that it pushes you to explore sides of yourself you didn't know existed in the first place.  For a while it was a lot of fun. The climaxes, the look on their faces as they reached a point of ecstasy and delirium.  Sometimes I'll hear some of the voices, gently reminding me of what a nymph I've been to them. I have been cruel, but also always very loving. It's never about the future with me, I only want to create moments. But how long will this last, am I going run like this forever? Abandoment issues. Older men. The narcissistic cycle of love and destruction. But it has always been worth it. If I could do everything all over again, I wouldn't change a thing.  "পাগল মেয়ে, আমি ভয় পাই না।" 

molly

It's my first binge of the year and somehow I can't stop thinking about him.

I instinctively reach for my phone and he calls.

It's so fucking old-school.

Proper romance.

Butterflies in my stomach and all that. 

The ecstasy hits me. It's beautiful and it's pure. I dance I dance I dance.

I want to kiss him.

I want to hold him.

I want to make love to him.

I want him, so much.

It's only his company that I seek.

Oh this cute little thing, he's stolen my heart.

I haven't felt this way in so long, so long.

I want to love him. 

I only want to love him.

I want to love only him.

It's only day 18 and I guess I've made slight progress. It feels like everything is in motion. Risk it all, go big or go home.

But it is time. I need to finish this.

I have the greatest around me, helping me in every way. I want to do this. So bad so bad.

Songs About Lovers, so I can go back to loving one, being one. 

If there was a God,

It would be I.

It would be you.

We are all the same, only our purposes are different.

We come here for a reason, to leave behind a story so our kind can grow.

The ones who believe.

The universe tests my strength time and again. But I am not afraid. It also nurtures me to fill my soul a little bit more every day that I live. 

The compass always shows the way.

Sometimes you climb mountains, you swim oceans and you walk through deserts.

It is nothing but a test.

This life is nothing but a test.

I have faith. I still do. 

Redemption comes only to those who truly believe. 

I like his hands. His wrists. I've always been one for details. 

Lips. 

And eyes.

That is all I know for now. 

And yet,

there is a strange craving, 

I only want to give you my love. 

It's cold outside, you keep me warm.

But I don't want to sleep, I don't want you anymore.

Something's changed and I can't quite figure out what. 

It's probably me.

Yup.

It's me alright.

I feel nothing, nothing at all. 

I'm waiting for you to finish so I can go back home and sleep in my own bed, by myself. 

It's strange how time changes everything.

You're no longer you and I'm no longer me.

We're no longer who we used to be.

I'm not even sure why I'm here, with you.

I feel nothing, nothing at all. 

Is this it then, is this how it's supposed to be from now on?

This strange alienation; this endless void.

He plucked all the petals. Nothing remains of me anymore.

The beautiful little girl has been broken, there is no recovery, only acceptance. 

Oino

I want you.
I want you so much.
I want you, like a greedy child.

I want your body.
I want your touch.
I want your hands on me, caressing every inch.

I want your mouth, your eyes, your lips, your Adam's apple, your hands, your feet, your torso, your navel, your manhood. I want it all.
I want you.

I want to kiss you, taste you.
I want to caress you. I want to lick you. I want to bite you. I want to suck you dry. I want to see the madness in your eye, your throbbing heart and your erection. I want it all. Your beauty, your ugly.
I want to make you orgasm like no one else can, like no one else ever will.
I want to love you, I want to fuck you.

It doesn't matter if we have to let go eventually, I don't want to keep you forever.
I want you, one more time.

You.
You.
You.
Only you.
I want you.

I have faith. It's you I want. Come to me, won't you?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJPjSaOcVwg

Existence

I am nothing.
I belong nowhere.
And yet, I am infinite.
I am the universe.



In my dream there is a beach, the sun and him. He says things I do not understand. But I remember his touch, the way he kissed. His hair, golden, shines in the light. I hold him. I hold him for a long time, I don't want to let go.
I am a monster in real life. We swim, we have a picnic of sorts. I love how his dog licks my face. For a second I wonder if I can pull this off for the rest of my life. Him, his dog, me and the sea.
I am a coward. I run every time things start to get a little bit serious, more concrete. He forgives me, he is pure like the water we swim in. There is no cruelty in his eyes, there is only love.
I run forward and run back. Back to him, for solace.

Mon cœur, je suis désolée..

You sometimes like instructions,

You like having no control.

And then you switch.

The hunted becomes the hunter, the lamb becomes the lioness.

It's not like how it was with him.

You're dry like the Sahara, so far away from the climax.

Abandon ship, abandon all hope. 

You want him, you know you do.

You want him one more time to fix all that was broken. 

But you no longer exist for him, you silly little girl.

Rigor Mortis: Review of 2016

The noise outside is starting to get to me, mess with my sanity. It's so loud, so loud. It's always SO loud. I want to shut my ears and make it all go away. But things are worse within. I want the voice in my head to shut up, even if for a second.
While I'm determined to finally stop fooling around and get to work on my record, I'm wondering if it's worth it, to sort of martyr myself for the sake of my art. I have been tracing the patterns lately and it all seems so futile. Music keeps me from killing myself. as incredibly clichéd as that may sound. But I don't know anymore if that's the way it really is or if that's just the clinical depression rearing its ugly head.
Too many pimps around me, too many whores.
I don't belong. I can never belong. It's not like I want to.
Living in Calcutta shields me from the ugliness of money, it frees me from the constant pressure of being relevant. I do not seek validation through my art, I only want to express. I only want to feel.

The work on Songs About Lovers hasn't even started and yet I am already so emotionally drained from trying to find a way to give voice to my innermost thoughts. I'm picturing it as having sex; letting go of all my inhibitions, breaking all walls within. I don't care how the world perceives me. If they don't ask the right questions then they'll never really know who I am, what I stand for. At this point in life and love, I have nothing to lose. So I guess I'm going to try to be as honest as I possibly can. It's a struggle because I'm jaded beyond repair. But that's not an excuse. This is something that I have to do for myself, this is something that I need to do for myself.

This year may not have been as adventurous as the last few but it feels like I've finally been able to slay a lot of my demons. I lost the plot somewhere in-between and maybe that was the best thing that could have happened to me.

Acceptance brings a strange sense of calm, comfort. I no longer feel the need to try and hide all that crazy. While I did, for the longest time, run away from the whole rape thing, I know now that I can never really discard the memory, pretend like it never happened. Because it did. Life is not Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind where you just erase the memories that cause you pain. This is much deeper; a sort of foundation of  my strength, all my courage.
I was going about it all wrong all this while.
When I faced him a decade later, to prove a point to myself about being strong and invincible, I was hiding behind a false sense of normalcy. No, it's not normal for a 12-year old to be abused by someone. It's not normal that my first sexual act was statutory rape. It has obviously fucked me up in ways from which I will never recover. I'm never going to be "normal" and you know what, that's alright. While it may have scarred me for life, it's something that makes me want to be a better person every damn day. It makes me want to spread love into a world which could definitely do with more kindness. There's no such thing as too much love.
13 years later, I no longer demonise every partner, every lover that I have. Maybe I did go through a bad patch, but it's becoming easier to love and trust every day. Because I'm starting to love and trust myself too. It amuses me when I scare people by being my true self. I don't know who else to be, how else to be. In all my flaws and all my glory, here I stand before you, world. Here I am, no mask of pretence, no fakery. It may not always be a pretty picture but my demons are a strange kind of beautiful. I am not going to hide them under the carpet anymore. I no longer feel ashamed.

"freedom was just another word, for nothing left to lose"

It's true. This is the most aloof I've ever been. Maybe my detachment will only grow the older I get. It's okay though. I'm going to be okay.



While it seems like a man caused a lot of heartbreak in the recent past, it wasn't really his fault. It was never about him anyway. I was more broken by the fact that I chose to give my love and attention to somebody who simply didn't want it. Like many others, like me, he ran because he was scared of falling in love. I've wasted a lot of energy hiding behind a stone-cold, horny exterior. But who I am trying to fool. The minute I sense something potentially permanent and monogamous with someone, I run in the opposite direction too. It's because stability and the permanence scare me. The past has left a bitter taste in my mouth. I feel vulnerable, so I protect my heart fiercely.
So in many ways, this man was a sort of mirror to my own patterns, my own flaws. Who am I to make a villain out of somebody who is just like me!
The sex too, this year, was mediocre at best. I have gotten quite good at understanding and satiating my needs. After all the mindless fucking, I no longer have the will to have sex with someone just for the sake of it. I would rather stay home, masturbate and climax. My partner can never understand my energy if they're not looking for intimacy. Nobody wins because the pleasure is only superficial that way. There is no groundbreaking orgasm for either of us.
Believe me, I've had some intense sex in this lifetime and I know that it exists. I am no longer willing to compromise. I want quality and not just quantity. 

I have reached a point in life where it is essential to climax, to finish what I start. Otherwise it's a waste of my time. I am done chasing, it was never my thing. You have to come to me. I'll give you all my love and all my soul. I will not kiss any more mouths till I find something real. I may have fucked up a lot this year, not anymore.
I am no longer afraid of love. I am no longer afraid of heartache. I may not be able to fit in everywhere and that's more of a good thing than bad. It's a little bit scary to know that I will not be easily understood and that's something I'll just have to learn to deal with.


Speaking of scary, the maternal instincts have been kicking in lately. It's funny how normal for most is often bizarre for me. I have never pictured myself as a caregiver, but there have been strange cravings lately. The need to do something more fulfilling with my life. Yes sure the debauchery is great, what next? What is rock n' roll? I love being on the road and having all these adventures but there are times when I wonder what it would be like to eventually have a baby. Will I ever be a mother, do I want to ever want to be a mother? Motherhood is not just the process of birthing and raising a child, it is an instinct. One that I cannot escape. As my body clock starts to make its urgency felt, I realise now that these are things I'll have to think about eventually. Running away is futile.

The moment you work out all your mommy and daddy issues, the brain rewires itself into getting fixated on strange things. Levelling up on the video game-like simulation that is your life.


Thankfully there is too much on my mind at the moment, too much to be done, to ponder over the possibilities of the future. Time has never been kind, but it exists only because of my conditioning. Every thing in the universe has a rhythm to it, even the future. I have to be patient and wait for whatever life has in store for me.

2017 will see the little girl grow up a little bit more. This transition into womanhood is scary but I'm taking my time, easing into it till it perfectly sets into my bones. 25 years baby, I've survived. There's no way in hell I'm giving up so easy, without a fight.
I know there's more.
The best is yet to come.
Faith/fate.