Tag Archives: love

This is Not When Lives Fall Apart



This is not the kind of heartache lovers feel
When lives fall apart,
but it is heartache I feel when
I’m wrong

and there is nothing I can do to make it right.

This is not the kind of love that moves mountains
when lives fall apart,
but it is love I feel when
I call out to my insides

and the heart knows it should want only what it can have.


“Most of us are not so strong. What is humor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? Or the memory of a brother’s smile? Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory and our great tragedy.”

― George R.R. Martin

Quote: A Song of Fire & Ice

Losing the Love Game



Curious things are written about love. It is transformed into bottomless objects and never-ending rainbows in the sky. It is given more avatars than all our gods, and it definitely has more believers.

Being in love is that feeling one can’t fathom, and yet, it drives most of one’s life. Love isn’t a myth, it isn’t a story, it’s our everyday reality. But reality is harsher than we believe. It has carcasses. Love has carcasses too, and most of them are road kill.

A man tried to self-immolate at the Ramlila Maidan to show his frustration with our government, to show his love for our country. Someone turned the switch on the microphone and yelled, “This is how the common man feels. This is how much the common man loves his country.” I wonder if the people watching cheered to celebrate this expression of utter frustration or they ran in to save this man from burning himself to death. Story books can glorify immolation in the name of love, whether it is for another person or a country, but what they don’t tell you is that love kills in softer ways.

Helter Skelter: Love

Love can kill you by suffocation. It feels like you’re choking on a bone that you can’t cough up but can’t swallow either. You are constantly agitated, something feels incorrect the whole time, and then it grows on you that this could be fatal. You can’t stop coughing and your face turns red, your eyes water. You open your mouth wider, cough deeper, but that bone doesn’t budge. You wrap your palms around your neck and everyone realises that you’re choking, that you need help. People rush to your aid, ask you to move on, or say that nothing can be done about this boy, about this city, about this system. The only way is to forget it or get used to it. How does one get used to suffocation? You should ask every corrupt man in India—surely guilt must feel like a bone in your throat. I fear they’ll answer it with a question: what guilt?

The fondest memories are with old flames, but flames die easily and the room is left smelling of burnt words and cheap cologne. India cheats you much like an old lover. Promises that were made are just broken prayer beads flung in a dusty drawer, robbed of all their holiness. It cheats you of your money—don’t ask the beggar on the road; instead, ask the man who earns well, pays taxes, and gets little in return. Everyone thinks the government is troubled, but no one cares that the bones in our necks have created more than one billion beleaguered human beings.

It is said that lovers are two bodies, one soul. Even if one of them exploits the soul, the other is left with a tainted one. Love needs boundaries to save severed souls, especially if the soul in question is the one India shares with its 1.21 billion people. The government facilitates, directly or indirectly, the disparity in wealth and health amongst its people and the people have hardly been taught to respect the system enough to get involved, take charge, and make amends.

Amy Winehouse wasn’t incorrect when she sang love is a losing game. Hate may kill more, but one expects hate to cause harm. Love, on the other hand, enslaves you and cripples you to such an extent, you accept your fallen self and get accustomed to the hole in the middle of your chest that will rise up to your throat and your fighting voice will be silenced until hell freezes over.

I wrote this article for Helter Skelter, where is was first published. http://helterskelter.in/2011/09/playing-a-losing-game/

Love holds me hostage


Your mistakes

held me hostage

with my own love.

Your lies

disguised our truth,

the one that cut me deep.

Your ignorance

made me worthless

in my own reflection.

Your regret

pulled me back,

to a place I shouldn’t be going.

Your insistence

lured me

into empty hopes.

My trust

does not have strength

to be tested again.

My conscience

will not let me

love you again. 

If I could…


This question really intrigued me. I decided to make a list here that I’m going to add on to whenever I think of something. So here goes:

1. I’d shout out from rooftops everything I really feel. Gut wrenching truth – not so much about others, more about myself. Something along the lines of, “I know I hurt people sometimes and then feel guilty about it and it kills little parts of me and that’s why I keep looking for things to believe in. At the sametime, I know I’m a good person and I know myself and believe I’m cut out to do something that’ll really make us think better. But sometimes, it’s hard to be completely honest with yourself and let go everything that doesn’t support you.”
This is only random blabber, but something along these lines. Declarations of love, hate, insecurities.. everything. I’d put it all out there for the world to hear.

2. I would live the 24 hours doing anything that my heart desires, for 2 reasons. i. to feel what it feels like to not think at all and just act. ii. To see if I have the courage to really live like that (I fear that the boundaires we think are outside of us, are in wayyy too deep)

3. I would spend every awake minute with people I love. Not that I don’t get to do it otherwise, but if I’m gonna do everything my heart desires I’m going to be around people who mean everything to me.

4. I would spell out my true feelings of love, discontent, hope etc. to people I love to see how they really feel about me.

5. I would send anonymous letters to all the politicians and people who can make a difference asking them to man up, to do something about our country – it would be blantant truth written in the hope to shake them from their selfish selves. Since the day will be rewinded, they cannot be traced back to me. =)

6. I would sing all day 😀 This is a good time to tell you that I’m not a very good singer but I still love singing. If my day was to be rewinded, no one would remember how I made a fool of myself.

I can’t think of too many things – which is a good thing! It means I already do things that I really, really wish to do! #win.

What would you do?