Dear Men

I want to talk and to be heard. Remember me for the opinions I have, not for how curvy my body is, or how I might be in your bed.

I want to be judged, not by the clothes I wear. Judge me for my words, my actions. I dare you.

I want my dreams to be as justified as yours. It doesn’t matter that I am evolutionarily built for child-bearing. I will not be your child-bearing machine.

I want you to enjoy my cooking. But know that I cook because I like to. It is neither my job nor my duty.

I want you to respect my uniqueness, because I will always reject and resent society’s standard stereotypes.

I want to be independent- emotionally, financially and every possible way. Be with me only if you like to be with me.

I want your acceptance, yes. But I don’t give a damn about your approval. The only approval I seek is my own.

I want you to tell me what you think. Don’t go soft on me, and know that I won’t either.

I want your assurance- in life, in the ring, in everything. But doubt me and I will do anything possible to prove you wrong.

I want your love, know that I will cherish it. But don’t cage me in its wake citing the evil in this world. Change the world!

I want to do all those things people tell me I shouldn’t because I’m a girl. I want to ride a bike, get a tattoo and trek the Himalayas with a bunch of strangers.

I want to be able to roam the streets at 12 a.m. because I want to, without having to be afraid.

I want you to respect what I want. Know that I also want humanity to be obliterated and dogs to rule in total anarchy.

It’s not about giving me more rights and reservations, because these only seek to widen the gulf between man and woman today.

It’s about where we stand in each other’s eyes. I will not worship you and you should not debase me for matters of biology and which chromosome made it to second base some twenty years ago.


in the darkness, composing sonnets for
shadows, running away from your voice
and quivering feet that beat in meter
with the music of the trees

the trees, the trees
there are no trees
except the ones in my colouring book
paper trees humming silently

i shall compare thee to summer
when it sings you rain
or is it the other way around
your words are an avalanche
there’s no point in running from you
you are the sun
you shine everywhere

hiding in silence
is not a very good idea
silence is a very harsh music
for unprepared ears


Falling stars, by movco 

message in a bottle

The snake in your room is a little different from the snake in mine
your snake being yours
and mine being mine

stuck between home and not-quite
because they are the same in the sea
we are flotsam staying up through poetry

I’m hiding in plain sight
screaming to be seen
a message in a bottle
between Mumbai and Delhi,
between oceans of stories, not knowing
how to come or go

knowing only that I must float

visions of the future from the past

tomorrow shall do a cheerleader routine
                enunciating each word
                                embedding the digits
                                                engraving them into our heads



money did not come first
first we created the emptiness in our seconds
and then came the emptiness in our stomachs
and then the emptiness of outer space

we used to look at the sky like it was a chocolate bar
and mum, between huge bites into the sky
her teeth dipping themselves into cocoa
her tongue darting between the stars
would say:

brush your teeth after eating chocolate
it is bad for your teeth

the sky is bad for the teeth
the plaque twinkles

                ‘close your eyes, hold up your hand, and you shall see’


our eyes did not come first
first we touched the truth
then we wanted to know it
then we wanted to lie

we have stared at the sun for too long
it is just a comet’s flame
and those only come by once a century anyway
the sun burned our spectacles
and now we can’t see the fuzzy shapes
distractions around the shapeless

we traced faces in the sky
they danced at night to dirgesongs
as we ate ourselves
and we brushed our teeth with the toothpaste
that nine out of ten dentists recommend
because we had just eaten chocolate
and it’s bad for the teeth

and then we joined the assembly line
we smelled the coffee and we went limp
we waved at the surveillance cameras
and they waved back
and even though our taste buds were withering
we grinned and bit through


chocolate did not come first
first came the bitter water
then we sipped it
then we bathed in it
then we did not want to leave

you can’t not have chocolate
we’ll pour it down your throat
we’ll pinch your mouth and we’ll stab your eyes
we’ll bleed your brains and we will throttle your heart
we’ll make it so you can’t breathe
and when you open your mouth to scream
we’ll fill it with chocolate

we’ll shove it down every hole you have
we’ll give you guns and bombs
and set you on a table top
and get you to fight
and we’ll bet on your lives
we’ll make a trading card game about you

                he’s got eleven determination! but only two logic
she can level-up to eventually be president!
these queer ones on the side may be allowed to marry in two turns
and that will change everything
when they try to get loans

you’ll buy this game
you’ll download it illegally and set up forums online
discussing the potential attributes of
a rare trading card
you get one free with a purchase of seven bars of chocolate*

*conditions apply


I was mourning the death of a pet goldfish
when my dad told me a story
that helped me a little bit.

It is a story that I have told several times
to friends, to a dying dog, to myself,
and once, to my dad.

The story by itself is unnecessary
you could condense it and just say
in capital letters and with no preamble,

I have touched this story at its curves,
those moments when stuff explodes
and everything is less confusing.

I wonder at the yesterday I see in the sky
the stars are here and there
if there is a secret here
I do not know it.