Time Capsule

 In a small sack weaved with dreams,

I kept our songs,
Which sung about you and I
And all we had.
Then the words,
The long and the short ones,

Those rose with the sun,
And slept with the moon.
I kept the best souvenirs,
One of your smiles,
And the warmth of your hand.
Lastly, I kept our love,
tied up the sack tight,
and buried it.

Then to mark the place,
I ripped my heart,
And placed above it.

Again

 Love, you caught me off guard.
And I embraced you,
Like a child playing at a beach.
Your waves took me deep into the ocean,
But I swam back to the shore.

But love, you caught me again.
And I caved into you,
Like a mermaid who loved the depths.
 You took me to the abyss,
And one day you washed me to the shore.

I lied there gasping,
For eons and alone.
Scared of the waves,
And out of breath.

The Tea Trigger

One might wonder how can something as harmless as tea can trigger anyone, for it only gives peace of mind if anything. Time has come to think about "the other side" of tea and I might say it is profound. So to the non-existing readers of this blog, I am trying the "Woolf" way to squeeze in some truth to fiction.

It ticks 7 am, 4 pm and 11 pm at multiple houses and all you can hear are the desperate, arrogant, and sometimes tormented cries for tea in low-frequency voices.

"TEAAAAAA" 

"Where is the TEA" 

"TEAAA"

"It's already past the usual time. Where is the damn TEA?"

Yes, I sympathize with these wails of despair for it is truly a herculean task to boil milk and requires unparalleled skill to drop a spoon full of tea dust to it. Only an iron-born woman with golden hands can do it and a delay in the process would result in a mercilessly perished pile of men.

So, the savior has to rise particularly by the previously mentioned times no matter if she is exhausted or in a death bed, 

OH, THE TEA HAS TO BE SERVED.

(Random rant)

How can it be surprising that the world is running out of good people when the humans are unmitigatedly trying to be harsh with another.No matter how hard you try to be kind to another person, sooner or later you realize that person was only trying to exploit the soul out of you. Like an idiom in my native language which says "digging the wet ground". Tired of being on the wet ground and letting people bludgeon the shovel into the soul. Yes, I do understand that one shouldn't expect a thing in return when you do anything for anyone wholeheartedly, but is it fair to shatter the person who belongs to a sacred minority that is endangered and not the ruthless assholes in this world. 

I don't know. Sometimes I want to implore the world to be kind, but I would be arrantly stupid to believe such a thing for only that concept itself is non-existent.

Clasp of the hues (A short story)

 Her soft breaths on my face were trapped under the dome of her lazy hair strands that seemed golden with the morning rays of the sun, falling in between. Our hands were tangled and all I could see was her cheeks and corner of thin lips that painted a smile. All that golden aura around, the small black mole on her shoulders and the scent of her skin.

Few years ago

I was mad about sketching buildings that never leave my mind and had to cage them inside the dull amber papers of my notebook. Years ago, when I was drawing the interior parts of the Harrington public library, my eyes were stuck on a girl who sat beside the long Victorian glass window. She was reading the poetry of Neruda. Out of all the charcoal portraits on the walls of my small room, the oldest one is of Pablo Neruda’s and his poems put me to trance. If the color of love was blue, Neruda’s lines about love were the shades of blue I’ve never seen before or could ever forget.

I could not see her face, only a little portion of two fingers that were left behind by the long sleeves of that brown sweater for holding the book. For a second, she lowered the book and our eyes met. I wanted those eyes to remember me and not ignore like a stranger. I turned the page and started drawing. I didn’t have to look multiple times.

 

I quoted,

 “But I love your feet

only because they walked

upon the earth and upon

the wind and upon the waters,

until they found me.”

I walked towards her and kept the paper on the table politely. She raised her face from the book and looked at me. I smiled and slowly walked away. I was thinking about the color of her eyes when it was filled with sunlight. Was it amber? I don’t know, it could be one of the shades I felt while reading Neruda’s poems.

..........

The intermittent noise of the Prussian blue waves, that rises and falls…The sky was somber and heavy like it was holding back the tears with a pounding heart. 

I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with as much air it could take. Standing at the top of the cliff, the cold wind traced the bare skin of my neck. The piece of paper inside my pocket felt foreign to my consciousness. I took it out, the ink was smudged and blots of dried water drops were eminent on them.

The sore on the edge of eyelids made my vision hazy. The swelling of my heart blocked me from breathing the air I was constantly trying to inhale.

I read the words on the paper again.

 

I am sorry. I can't do this anymore.

 

I closed my eyes tight and thought about the way her eyes were filled with sunlight.

Letting the wind conspiring me to join the waves.

 

 

The right swipe (A short story)

 God. When is this Movy going to stop talking about the people she meets on dating
apps incessantly! Every week there is a new soulmate and nationwide lockdown
brought more fishes to these apps than ever. Movy had already found a dozen fishes
who play guitar, love to travel and look like Jesus.

She has been badgering me to join in one of these for ages. I don't know, I was
uncomfortable with it because of it’s uncanny resemblance to online shopping. You look
at the picture, read the descriptions, and add it to the wish list. If only humans were that
blatant, this world would have been a different place.
But then, today after watching Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind for the hundredth
time, I felt lonely...

So lonely that the thought of not finding my Joel Barish felt terrible. So, I downloaded
this bright yellow app when it was only 30 minutes to midnight.

Padma, 24 years. Interested in men. (Erm, not strictly)
I uploaded a profile picture of myself taken from Kodaikanal with the focus on a fern I
was holding to. There were some questions beneath the display picture to answer and a
bio to update. I thought for a few minutes and wrote, "Wes Anderson. Pablo Neruda. Arundhathi Roy
Lord Huron. Sufjan stevens. Frida Kahlo.Ellen Hopkins.If you fancy at least
three persons from these, swiping right might be interesting."

Whoa! I created a UPSC question lite version for people to just decide the direction to
swipe. Movy would roll her eyes back to the brain seeing this. Okay, now it's time for me
to swipe. Last time when I thought about swiping like this, it got me broke for a month.

There are many good-looking people here or is it just Kuji cam! No idea. I kept ignoring
most of them because I felt they were all out of my league. Yes, my insecurity is well
secured. After swiping for quite a while, I found a person who seemed to be a culinary
professional, in his white apron flipping some food from a pan with scarlet flames
blazing from the stove besides. He was literally glowing. A 25 years old, Charlie Iype.
I checked his pictures and most of them were of the foods he cooked. He had few
candids of him reading at a beach. He cooks. He reads. Play the damn cue music. Mr.
Iype, please be my type with this swipe. Okay, I realize why I am single now.
Anyways, muchas gracias Movy bastardo. All the post-Money Heist- Spanish learning
came to use at this hour.

I swiped right and sent a "Hey!". It was 12 AM already. Should I stop this drama and
resume watching Narcos or should I wait for this chef guy to reply? Maybe I'll wait for a
few minutes. I started swiping again and secretly wished all the suggestions to exhaust.
One of the bios was "If you are bad, I am your dad". Ugh. It must be really crowded on
the left side of the village.

Suddenly a new chime made me notice that I got a reply.

 It is a hey with ":)". Perfecto!
So far, the hope bar of Ms. Menon is staying at roaring heights.
Hell, now it is my turn to send something. What shall I send? Come on. It is not a big
deal. Send something, but what is cool, catchy, and not creepy?

Oh no! He sent me a random question, which is a feature of this app that reveals
answers only when both parties answer it. He asked me what my current favorite song
was. 

I typed in, "Take me back to the night we met" by Lord Huron and pressed sent.

Man, I was being honest but right now I have second thoughts. Will he think that I typed
that deliberately? Whatever, calm down Patma. I felt excited to know his favorite song
and I wished for it to be none of Lord Huron's or Sufjan's. I might have a trust issue
then, which is nonsense. I checked his answer and it was Jacob Bank's Caroline.

Wow. It sure is a beautiful song.

The moment was broken by loud late-night rain. Monsoons of Kerala are usually
outrageous romantics. I lowered the speed of the fan and replied that it was a beautiful
song. Then we started bantering about the usual awkward starting lines with strangers
and then about movies.

One hour past midnight and we were talking about Sci-fi movies and poetry. I
wondered why he is not talking about food. Then came the text,

“Where is your home town in Kerala?
(If I may ask)”
“I am from Calicut. And you? (If I may ask)”
“Oh, that’s great because I am from Calicut too.”
Amazing. Now I get it why you love cooking.
“Cool. Though I suck at cooking, I am really proud of our culture of feasting for all the
small joys.”
“True. How delightful! :D “

The typed emojis make me have hots for Mr.Iype. Yes, that’s crazy but when was the
last time I met a person who does not sabotage the passion of communication with all
emojis and stickers!

“Have you watched the movie, Julie & Julia?”
“Yes. I love it. It is really amazing how a biography unwinds through a different person
while giving focus to both characters, it was really inspiring.”

I searched for a Charlie Iype from Calicut on Facebook and I found him easily. I sent a
request to carry over this conversation to the messenger. The app restricted the
conversation time to 24 hours and I felt that is definitely not enough. (:D)

“Glad you sent me a friend request. :))”

The chatter of the rain got lighter. I closed this app and opened Facebook. We have a
mutual friend that I didn’t notice before. It was my first cousin Vyka. She was 6 years
younger than me and went to the same school as Charlie. Then I saw his date of birth…
Charlie was born on 2001. He was just 19 years old and the worst, He went to school
with my sister. Probably classmates. This is weird. Things suddenly got uncomfortable.
My own brother is just 19. God. This is frustrating. I couldn’t understand why he updated
a false age in his profile.
Am I a cougar now? Whoa, lady that’s some exaggeration.
But, does age matter? I mean, Priyanka and Nick were...Shut up. Shut. Up. Don't be that lame. 

He is Vyka’s classmate.
This is absurd.
76 minutes past midnight and I uninstalled the dating app.
Ding.
I got a messenger notification and it is from Charlie. What should I say?
“Hey there!”
...
“I am sorry Charlie. My sister knows you.
I am a bit uncomfortable about this.
No hard feelings. You are really a great guy.
It was a pleasure knowing you.”
“Okay.”
...
“Why does it matter?
We connected pretty fast.”
...
“Sorry. It is okay. No problem.”
...
2.30 AM, I was so tired, guilty and wide awake.
Did I rush into a decision?
Maybe swiping is not that great in any scenario.

Hours passed and I woke up at 11 in the morning. I called Movy and said I had joined
the dating app yesterday and she didn’t let me finish the rest. Not a surprise. She
screamed in excitement and told me about 2 Jesus looking guys she met recently.
When I finally got the gap, I told her everything.

“Shit. That sucks.”
Yes. It did.

Two more days passed and it was again a Sunday with no glory. I woke up and made
tea. It was still raining lightly. I didn’t know which was more concentrated with lethargy,
my heart, or the atmosphere. Sipping the tea, I checked Instagram. Vyka has updated a
story, probably a ‘happy birthday King/queen’. I touched on the circle and it was
something she shared from Iypical underscore charlie.

The thumbnail seemed like he was singing. I played it and he was singing “Take me
back to the night we met” with a caption ‘Midnight musings’. The dim lighting looked so
aesthetic; his features looked like they were on a fresh clay sculpture. A small delta like
flatness on the tip of his nose, subtle small curls of his hair suggesting a due hair cut
and his wide eyes singing along.
And Charlie sings, really well.

I replied to her story with a clap emoji and she responded to it after few minutes,
“I know right! He was my senior at school.”

I sent a follow request to Charlie. I can’t stop thinking about this guy and nothing else
matters.
Within a couple of minutes Charlie accepted it and requested to follow me back.
Happily, approved. Then he texted,

“Hey there, patmaforpresident! :D”
Erm. I know that is a lame Instagram handle name, but it is irresistibly compelling.
“Heyy!”
“I uninstalled the app that night”
“Me too. It was my first and the last time on it.”
“May I know why?”
“You already know.”
“:)”
“<3”

(Random rant)

 Aren't we all like those slimes in the "satisfactory" videos we randomly come across on our feeds. We are born delicate and fragile, but then we are kneaded in pain. Different kinds of pain in various levels of saturation, finely getting blended to each molecule, just like the dyes for a slime. They change us, the hues, the form, the delicacy and we continue being versatile to it. 

We do not have control over the kneader, but the exception is on satisfaction. Sometimes the pain inflicted upon us is not deliberate or evictable and the kneader is tormented as well.

An ode to uncertainty

Hanging all the tenses in a string,

I know you were certain,

About playing a game with it,

Swaying it to life or death.

Gleaning the black and white dots,

You built the noise slowly,

And my brain fell for it,

Blurry and buzzing gnarly.

You held me from the beginning,

And would not carry me to the end.

'Cause you slice right in the middle,

And leave me in the throes.

You never chase me down,

'cause this race never ends.

Though,I would run from you,

And get lost in direction.

Tighten the string for once,

Don't let the nooses give up,

So shall I see,

Heaven or hell for sure.

What's this moment called.

"Night in the sky"Uploaded by SuwaNyaske

When you stare at my soul, With your fathomless eyes, The glint of love burns on them, Like concentrated flames. The vigorous collision of hearts, Sending waves all over. All my trails lead me to you, Like a million magnets... And I could only see you.
Is this a transgression? Or did you conspire this?

Days without you.

You left on a night, in pain, almost too strong that you couldn't see or hear anything lucidly. I lingered around in your room, roamed around, not knowing what to say or do to stop your suffering. I cried when nobody was watching, I didn't want anyone to feel weak, weak like me. At some point, I gave up and started sobbing and I hated not being able to speak to you. I looked at you and fondled your pale forehead and said in a fragile quivering voice that you were going to be alright. Nothing in the world was more painful than watching you suffer. I was frightened.

Then you were taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I watched you through the long windows. You were nearly passed out but rambling something in pain. When the vehicle moved slowly, I prayed to God that please don't let this be the last time I could see you. But as always, my prayers were in vain.

I went home and prayed and wailed and sobbed under the shower, begging for a miracle. Nothing worked and I lost you in a week. Just like that. You shined upon me like the bright sun and someone turned that off mercilessly.

Now, it's been 2 months.

I keep myself busy indulging in things I was never good at, but no matter what, not a day passes without thinking about you. I want to scream at nothing but mostly I don't know what to do. I miss you and I want and don't want it to stop. All the memories etched on my heart, your voice, your smile, and the love. The love.
If only I could go back to April 13th.
Without my voice trembling, my heart shattering into one million pieces,
I would hold you tightly.
I would lie down beside you.
And that's enough.
That's enough.

A piece of my heart has been cut off, but like a phantom limb, the love and longing are hurting me.

A life changing choice and few other things

Ever since the lockdown began, I was thinking about spending my time productively. As a result I've kick-started multiple things but ended up completing none. Partly because I lost someone who was so close to me recently.

Gladly, I brought my Ukulele with me when I came back from Mangalore. I love this instrument so much and buying it was one of the best decisions I had taken overnight. There is something so serene and pleasant about this Hawaian beauty called Makala. The sound from it clears the air and brings a joyful and liberated vibe. I still remember those days in the hostel when Sandy, Deepika, and I would all sit together in a room under the fairy lights, with windows opening to a glance of the starry sky with an uncertain moon and few buildings with their yellow lights creeping to the top. We would play music and end up lying on the carpet, staring at the ceiling and to the cosmos beyond, indulging in conversations about existential bummers.Now, It feels like all those happened a million years ago.

An old friend of paramount importance was my love for reading which I thought once upon a time as an unabating interest. I really wanted to restart it, so just like old times I downloaded Aldiko, a reading app and downloaded many books in Epub format. I wanted to complete reading "The small things are beautiful", which was abandoned a long time ago, in the midway of some irrelevant chaos.

I discovered some very talented musicians through youtube like Mxmtoon and Hozier (My friend Sandy has an exceptional taste in music and always introduces me to new ones). I listen to their music all the time now. What good is life without music! (Of course a rhetorical question). I left my art stuff back at the hostel and couldn't paint anything. I terribly miss it and feels strange because I have never spent so many free days without painting.

After watching La Casa De Papel, I fell in love with Spanish and started learning it through an app called memrise (Ahora puedo hablar un poco de espanol). I don't practice it consistently though. Nonetheless, the joy it brings is exceptional.

Speaking about Netflix, I have watched a plethora of movies and TV series during this lockdown. I watched a movie called Okja (2017 ) recently and it planted a radical change inside me. I have always felt a compassion and was very keen on all animals. I love watching documentaries on vivid habitats of our earth. I have always ended up fondly thinking about how phenomenal our planet is. It is breathtaking.

I have learned about the dreadful fate we bring upon those poor beings too like I have explained in a previous post reviewing the documentary called 'Racing Extinction'. It is something truly heart-sickening.

Picture downloaded from Newyork times review about Okja

Whatever I felt, It was actually hypocritical because I was a non-vegetarian. I devoured and savored animal flesh. I paid the slaughterers. As much as I loved animals, I was self-absorbed enough to continue being non-vegetarian thinking about the taste of cooked meat which lasts for a transient time and the quid pro quo for it was the precious life of an organism.
For the last couple of years I was thinking about accepting a vegan lifestyle or at least becoming a vegetarian. A few weeks ago, I was eating chicken and all of a sudden my mind started a figure-ground thought pattern of focusing on the taste of raw flesh in the cooked meat. I felt hesitant and got upset. It was the beginning of something.

 After watching Okja, I finally decided to be a vegetarian. Okja does not advocate veganism, but it stirred some strong emotions inside me. Okja is a beautiful, heart-rending movie. It portrays the brutal, unethical, and synthetic face of capitalism in associated with animal cruelty.
I listened to various talks by environmentalists like Ed winters. It changed my life because for once in my life, I was so certain that this is the greatest thing anyone can ever do for our planet. I will be a vegan when I am financially independent because I cannot force a lifestyle on my family. In contemporary India, Vegan products are not easily accessible as well.

This world is for all the species and nothing ever can morally justify buying animal products or eating them. The current pandemic was also a result of animal slaughter and large scale animal cruelty. Let the animals live freely, let's not breed them to murder.
There is a song from racing extinction called "Manta Ray" by J. Ralph & Anohni. It is so poignant as it's from the perspective of all other organisms in the world. You can all listen to it https://youtu.be/f1JiJhWkM9M. It got oscar-nominated for the best original song.
There are few lines that go like,

"Without my home
With no reflection
I cease to exist

And my children
Are dying now
Inside me
My children
Are dying now
Inside me
My children

All I love
All I know
All I've known

I am dying now
Inside me
My children
My children"

Listening to the line "My children" through the singer's voice, we can all feel a resonating ache that traveled to us from the greatest oceans, tropical forests, desserts, frozen lands, and from every other habitat.

Kindness, that is all it takes.

Downloaded from wallpaperaccess.com

Things I am good at.

I always think,
about the things, I am good at.
Really good.

Today I found that out,
Unintentionally and effortlessly.

I'm really good at feeling things.
Actually, I am the best.

My dearest Achamma,

You were and are everything to me. All of my earliest and happiest memories are with you. I never saw anything other than love and kindness in your eyes. Your love was the light of my life and I have wondered how can someone love anyone this profoundly. 

Your love and compassion were like a fathomless ocean and its waves touched many blessed beings. 

I have vivid memories of our old home. At nights, we would all sleep on the long cots laid on the red floor. You keep me close to your heart and still, when I close my eyes, I can remember the scent of your skin and your motherly hands around me. There was a broad window pane where I used to sit as a child looking at our school ground. During the beginning of summers, the migrant wanderers would occupy the ground and you would listen to my silly chatter about them patiently. We spent a lot of days together. You looked after me, fed me, sent me to school...You even wrote my homework. I can't even remember how many candies I have had with all the little amounts of pocket money you had given.

You would send Shobhavellyamma to pick me up from Anganwadi at noons and when I come back you would be making lunch by mashing the rice with curd. Achamma, I don't know how many times you fed me with your hands, the love you serve along with it made all of them the greatest meal I've ever had.

You were always my safe haven. I have heard stories of me running to you complaining about amma and aunts so that you would scold them without reasoning. Your unconditional love was beyond all kinds of reasoning. Anyday, you would know my sufferings by just a glance. My dearest, you read my heart before the words. You were my precious angel. 

How many stories have you told me! On our walks to the temple in the evenings through the village road, you held my hands and told stories all the way. You always spoke to God for me during all of my tough days. Never did I go to attend an exam without your blessings. It was everything I needed.

The way you gave me pocket money secretly though the whole world knew only you could spoil me. I remember how pissed you were when I cut my hair short. All the years I lived, we were together for our favorite time of the year which is Vishu and I can't believe you left on that day this year and didn't come back.

You were a very witty person. Your curiosity to learn new things always amazed me.

Never have I ever heard you talk ill about a person. Everyone in the world loved you. You were the best mother and grandmother. If love had a face, it was yours my achamma.

Now, you look after me from heaven.

And I would miss you so much because I've never loved anyone as much as I loved you. You are everywhere around and everyone kind to me reminds me of you.

I will miss seeing your name on my call log.

I will miss all the kisses and hugs.

I will miss you saying how thin I've become though I was always fat.

I will miss you feeding me everything edible.

I will miss you telling me to dry my hair and not get sick.

I will miss your laughter when I show funny photos and videos on the phone.

I will miss you waiting for me at home, your love was home to me.

I will miss your songs.

I will miss calling you achamma with my heart full.

I will miss all our great times together.

I will miss everything about you.

You were my everything.

You were a mother, grandmother, and best friend to me.

But I know you are with me always.

You are inside my heart.

My lovely and beautiful achamma,

I love you. I love you. I love you

I love you more than anything.

I write to get rid of the ache in heart, but I don't want the pain of your loss to reduce one bit. It reminds me of the intensity of your profound love. You taught us to love unconditionally. Your compassion moved many people.

I know you are watching me from the beyond. I hope you are happy and at peace over there. Be with me.

With love and more love,

Remembering you always and forever,

Yours,

Anu.

people.

people.
my lovely people.
Why are you in pain?
why do you leave?

This is so fucking hard.

...

At those nights,

after when the midnight fall asleep,

Let's talk about Gibran and Neruda.

I'll ask you to close your eyes

And I'll recite Rumi's,

We'll call it a night,

When you recite back,

With your kisses.

Relevance of feminism in the contemporary society; A perspective.

Well, we have come a long way from the times when feminism burned like an ethereal fire to the cyber massacre as we witness today. My ideals went on growing linearly as my meta-thinking devoured the characters of early 19^th and 20th-century novels which began from Ms. Elizabeth Bennet of “Pride and Prejudice” to Mrs. Weasley of “To the Lighthouse”. Authors like Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Simone de Beauvoir, and Toni Morrison had paved my way to feminist literature. But this write up is not about the aspects discussed during the Victorian era,

It is the tale that every observant millennial young adult would want to tell and my journey to become a feminist.

Painting by Australian artist Jessica Watts

Being an equalist, I would root to humanity and it is the ideal concept that upholds both ethos and pathos, it could also contribute to the purist way of thinking and living.  Gender equality and feminism are similar concepts as feminism is defined to be the belief that women should be allowed the same rights, power, and opportunities as men and be treated in the same way, or the set of activities intended to achieve this state. Cheris Kramarae, a famous scholar in the area of women's studies and communication and the co-author of A Feminist Dictionary said that “Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings.”

Gender equality doesn’t give importance to any particular one. As I believe human gender and sexuality are a spectrum, I would like you to know that this discussion is not just adhered to male or female alone.

Now, doesn’t it evoke thoughts about why feminism arises although a similar altruistic concept of gender equality exists? Yes, we all know the way women were treated from the beginning of human history. Our education system made sure it was not excluded from the syllabus and the understanding of the concepts were of course measure by memory tests. Living in 2020, let us all open our eyes and analyze the current atmosphere for women at all kinds of institutions beginning with the home.

Most of us millennials grew up in homes without facing the extreme horrible male chauvinism or patriarchy. The thing is, it is not about the severity scales but the ubiquity.

The justification comes under various strata like protection and social obligation. Talking about protection, the violation of an individual’s freedom of choice clothing or expression is often questioned as it might cause a threat or rise safety issues, but it is time to fight the “hazard”. There are equal rights to express oneself irrespective of gender. We could always see a woman who talks politics or wears short clothes are often targeted and shamed in various ways. Objectification of women is glorified by our film industries and misunderstood as a trait of masculinity. As long as the need for protection exists, we can conclude that society is not yet ready to fight what’s threatening safety.

When the reason is not protection, it could be the toxic resistance to change or the reluctance to let go of the patriarchal systems. Our society is still at the stage where men are the most trusted drivers just because they are ‘men’. Women are obligated under various psychological pressure to withstand the sexism.

Every woman of our age faces casual sexism on a daily basis. We confront it from our homes, educational institutions, workplace and almost from everywhere. The horizontal hostility makes women stand in favor of patriarchy too, which is very disappointing. Maybe one would think about the big deal in ignoring a minor sexist comment, but that’s the thing about casual sexism; one by one it accumulates from everywhere and the culmination is horrible. It stands as a hindrance at every ingress.

 Today, we see feminism being misapprehended as something born from vanity. People who stand for the true values of it are being defamed and given ‘names’. The repercussions of these are a deceived lot of young people who unintentionally becomes a part of misogyny.

It is high time to improvise our mindset into a broader space where men, women, and all other genders are treated as equals. The ethos and pathos should be effectively conveyed to our children through good parenting. We must raise our voice and act appropriately when humans of any gender are subjected to sexism. We all deserve this world equally, not more or less.

“Women have sat indoors all these millions of years, so that by this time the very walls are permeated by their creative force, which has, indeed, so overcharged the capacity of bricks and mortar that it must needs harness itself to pens and brushes and business and politics.”

― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

Comrade

The cracks in your heart,
Were just a continuum of mine.
The tears that rolled down your cheek,
Were from my eyes.

And when pain asphyxiated you,
My heart was strangled.
When your days were bright,
I saw clear skies too.

But, only when you leave,
The pain weighs more,

On my side.

Itinerary.

When you burst into laughter,
Looking at the sky,
I want to steal glances,
And save it inside my heart.

On the days you talk endlessly,
Eyes shining with passion,
I will interrupt it for a second,
To whisper, "love you so much".

On starry nights,
While listening to our music,
I want to hold your hands tight,
And admire life to the fullest.

Reading Neruda's lines to you,
I want to pause and kiss you slowly,
Thereby completing the lines,
More beautifully.

When we grow old together
And look at everything we created,
I want to rest my head on your chest,
Telling "you are everything".