Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned...

When William Congreve said, "Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned," he definitely knew what he was talking about... (Experience talking or was he just a genius, we shall never know.)

Malice clouds my mind
And I see your eyes full of fear.
No place where I wouldn't find
You hiding timid, my dear.
Your screams, agonizing and petrified,
Fill my ears;
Bringing to my face a smile
Some would rather call a sneer.

Like metal against metal should scrape,
A screech from your throat is torn.
In vain you look for escape,
But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Regretting your mistake
You plead to settle the score,
And offer all I could take
But not what I crave for.

You're bound and gagged,
Aghast in horror.
Your skin is scarred, marred,
And dripping crimson.

I lift my arm up high
Aiming for the final strike
That will in one blow
Bring an end to your life.
For I shall finally break through
Your ribs, that hide that which is mine;
That which you refused to let me hold,
That which rests now beating in my hands cold.

Lady desolate...

I am one of those women who find it extremely difficult, taxing in fact, to bond with other women. It is not as often a talk about one's dream stripper over pints of beer as we plunge into details (so dirty that my sober mind wishes it could disown me) as often as I would like. Statistically, I would have, I suppose, one female friend for ever six male friends or something like that. My math is bad. It is not that I find it difficult to make an acquaintance of womankind, but that I find it impossible to find the kind I would like to befriend. For I would like to be around her who can converse about sonnets, stories, songs, sex, sports, shoes, sheep and sweets as passionately as she bitches.

Such women, in my experience, are rare jewels. But every once in a while Fate decides to be kind to me, for no girl can live fully without that crazy little girl friend. And though this poem was written for someone who once seemed to be another of my kind, today I post it for all those women who I love now and shall in the glorious days to come. These women have made me stronger than I ever thought I could be and I know shall hold me up when my treacherous spine gives in because it thinks my shoulders can bear no more weight. I thank you for the crazy memories we have made or will tomorrow, and of course, the smiles and tears over pastries and ice creams will never be forgotten (because PMS is kind of a monthly plan).

Rolling down your sombre face,

At a steady pace,

Are frigid tear drops

Invading my heart.

Your eyes appear unclear.

They are puffy and swollen.

Once rosy, now glistening from tears

Are your cheeks, a fabric in time woven

And worn down by the pain

Now piercing through my heart.

Allow me to be selfish and say

That I wish to wipe those lousy pearls away...

And let me tend

To your bleeding heart.

Done. Undone.

I am not claustrophobic. Neither am I achluophobic. There are no walls holding me prisoner. And I can't find a corner dark enough to hide my face. But the suffocation is inescapable. The house is empty; but there are too many people around. It is pitch black outside. Not a soul in sight. Everybody is asleep. The vagrant dogs have found shelter and lost their way in the land of dreams, too. But the noise is deafening. I look at my reflection; barely so, however. It's been days since I have looked myself in the eyes. Guilt sits heavy and stout, grins at me with its toothless jaws; it settles and nestles upon my heart like it were a bean bag. I wonder what makes her smile. Nay! I beg of her to tell me what humour could possibly relieve me. She smacks me across the face and sends me spiralling down this abyss from where I know not how to return. I hit rock bottom. I can't breathe. It is wet... it's wet and cold. And there's a lapping sound. I think I'm in a lake? I now know what she found funny. There's a loud thudding. It's getting louder... Ah! It's too loud. I don't know if I can take it anymore. I can't see a thing. Why is the air around me compressing and decompressing??? The pressure is making my ears hurt. My vision is a blur of black. Everywhere, all I see is black. Except the eyes. The pairs of yellow eyes. Guilt brought family along today, it would seem. A fingernail runs along my bare spine. It cut me. I know it. A warm liquid is trickling down my back as sorrow, hard and frigid, sets into my gut. Another claw tries to snatch me away, and another, and another. Each doing a fair share of damage. I can not fathom for the life of me what they want... my chest is heavy. Too many voices, too many noises. The thudding is getting closer. The lapping is no longer there. The water is crashing along the shore. Wait! Not water. It's too viscous and sticky. There's a light somewhere underneath the liquid I'm standing in. It's getting brighter. There is no land I feel. The light gets brighter. The eyes are too close for comfort. They are calling out to me. Accusing voices and blaming fingers, hurled at me like daggers. I'm scared. No! No more! Stop!!!! I mean it. I dint do anything. I dint know. I can't fix it. Please! The light is getting brighter. I try to scream, I'm standing in blood. No voice escapes my throat. I have no throat. I have no body. What's happening? I am here; but I am not here. Somebody help me! The light is now blinding. The voices are now scared. I can hear them scrambling. The noises are waning. I can't contain the light. It's not a light. It's not light. It's fire. It's burning everything down. I look around. Nowhere to run. I see it coming. It hurts. And then it doesn't hurt. My heart is warm. I look up and catch somebody looking at me. She's smiling at me. I reach for the mirror, looking closely at my fingertips. They make contact with the surface and I look up again. She's still smiling at me. I'm smiling at me. I lay down in the bed. I fall asleep, still smiling at me. 

Her...

She was a creature majestic.
Captivating, intimidating.
Her skin was creamy like milk.
Her flaming hair sleek as silk.

Her irises seraphinitic
Held a fire in them blue.
She licked her lips in a vile taunt,
Her lips that mortal souls haunt.

A drop crimson
Escaped them and rolled down her chin.
And rolled a little further more,
Running along her swan-like throat.

She was looking for fun,
You could just see it in those eyes.
As clear as your end
Lurking around the bend.

You ought to have picked up your feet,
Not stood there numb.
Run in crazed terror.
Maybe hide from the awaiting horror.

But you couldn't, you see?
She had you in a trance.
Her spidery, long fingers
On your skin you wished would linger.

The sway of her hips
As she glided over the distance
On her shapely
Legs, the promise you accepted dreamily.

For it was the promise of a kiss,
Lingering and eternal,
Fiery and cold,
Just like the hold

She had on you,
Only inches away now. She
Laid you down on her bed
And painted the unlit night red.

Ignorance is bliss.

I am 20. My golden era of teenage came to an end a few months ago. But I still show the classic traits of a teenage girl. I spend way too many hours online, I sleep way too little, I am always missing from home, I get back home at inappropriate hours, any excuse to party is good enough for me to party, I conveniently 'forget' work (that's actually a natural talent with me), I am moody, I am always hormonal and disturbed in one way or another (which may or may not be related since I am a chick), I believe in throwing regular tantrums, I love having pictures of me clicked with morally acceptable classification of faces being made in them and then sharing them on various social media. I belong to what my maternal grandpa fondly refers to as the "Idiot Box Generation".

You see, my grandpa views the world in terms of questions. He has this insatiable curiosity that drives his life. The essence of existence to him is questioning. Questioning EVERYTHING! How is it that bottled water claims being mineral water when it has gone through reverse-osmosis which fundamentally would mean that it has lesser minerals than regular water and many such questions have been posed to me through my formative years. And I swear, I never saw the sense of it. I never understood what these questions would ever get me in life.

But 10 years later, am I thankful! Now, I don't claim being a know-it-all of any sort, no siree, but I do my best to cover all my general bases in whatever discussion I am involved in. Despite my efforts at not letting my gramp rubbing off on me, I learned from him to have a healthy sense of curiosity and an (what I consider) average need to know about things.

Another proud trait I inherited from my family, is that I am a book lover. That and my love for language (read grammar) go hand-in-hand. Both my parents are extremely fond of turning pages. But while they are limited by their specific choices of genre (probably because genius skips a generation), I tend to be more like my grandparents. I can bulldoze through almost any kind of reading (unless it has that word 'study' attached to it, even at a subconscious level).

I suppose this makes me a stereotypical bookworm/nerd. But I don't mind. Probably because I know that the word is 'obviously' and not 'obvi(o)'. And it is your talking like an under-educated citizen that will make me condemn you from ever being acknowledged as a human being by me. I'm sorry! But did you pay only half your tuition fee? Is that why you weren't taught all the letters that go into spelling a word? And how on the planet does typing 'mah' instead of 'my' make sense?

Am I the only one lost in this new trend of weird lingos and destruction of a language? I feel bad for English. If I were to anthropomorphically explain this occurrence, it would make the Saw series of movies look like Disney. If you expect me to feel delighted by a message that reads, "u r beautiful.... can v frnd? if yes than add me....... u wil nvr regret for makin me frnd", excuse me! But... ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Is that... Am I supposed to be even remotely interested after this display of indecency towards somebody else's culture, forget being ever slightly impressed! I am biologically incapable of lasting more than 4 abbreviated sentences. 'Oh my gosh' only gets as short as omigosh to me, and only when it is to express intense emotions and a rush of words resulting from the touchy-feely nature of my being.

Another nonsensical trend that I tried to comprehend and being a part of... Selfies! But I never really could learn the art of clicking your face and maintaining the focus of the camera without seeing the screen or looking normal in case of a frontal camera. Guess I never will be talented enough to master this art or to fathom the reason behind it being entertaining. I gave up.

Flattery is apparently the key to every chick's chastity belt. I am in that picture. I have seen that picture. I have chosen to post that picture. I know how I look in it. Your false words of undeserved appreciation are not fooling me. Your lore of my phenotypical genes is not impressing anybody. Nope! Do not care. Not getting laid tonight, bro! In fact, if you keep chasing my tail, NEVER getting laid. Paranoia clouds every single nerve ending of my right lobe the moment the guy starts being dishonest. I am going to turn anti-you if you keep calling me every single day to 'hang out'. If your first question after a general greeting is an inquiry to do with my relationship status, you are leaving a distaste in my mouth, man. I do not like you.

I realize I sound bitter and judgmental and just plain rude but I am just honest. Honesty is a two edged sword. Most of you are not going to like this piece. But the truth is, my generation makes no sense to me. I do not understand what drives us (except money) nor the reason for our immorality (usually to gain money or tail). We are vain and naive. We are all brought up in a world where everybody believes that they deserve either an Academy award or a Pulitzer or to be a Nobel Laureate. Reading is damned, knowledge mocked. Everybody is talented. Everybody is beautiful. Everybody is desirable. Everybody is plastic. We are Mean Girls, real time. And I just am scarred by my constant pondering over this thought, "Where did we lose sight of the way?"

But I suppose what is best is to just shut my eyes and move on... when life gives you lemons, lick some salt, knock back a shot and then enjoy the lemons in its face!
-GaurikaVA =)

Silence is golden... Scratch that! It is way more precious than that!

'I am in silence'. Have you ever tried this thing? For a certain amount of time, you deprive yourself of a verbal communication. Not a peep outta your pie hole, mate! The way we are conditioned, with all the constant social interaction and need to be heard or involved in a conversation of some form, this is an alien concept. Though, throughout our lives some people have very righteously at some point asked us to shut up. It's very Eat, Pray, Love (Eck! But a part of me is a sucker for that kinda stuff). Also, my shrink thinks I can do better with this rather constructive challenge. (Yes, I have a shrink. I am Charlie Harper, baby! Minus the addictions, though. But plus the issues and insanity plea.)

I have taken a fortnight long vow of silence and have gone through with 2 days of it. Feeling good, so far. My spirits are drunk high on the excitement of the challenge. And the hilarity ensuing as a result. I'm being mocked & teased, and there are those that are trying to get me to forfeit or to fail. But the most amusing of the lot are those that are outraged by my decision. Look at the following shining example of utter absurdity (is that even a word?).

On Whatsapp...
Friend: I'll call you in 5.
     Me: Don't.
            It is of no point.
            I can't speak.
Friend: Why not?
     Me: I'm in silence.
Friend You won't make it.
     Me: That's cool.
10 minutes later, my phone rings. I answer.
     Me: Hmm hmmm! (Hey-looooo!)
Friend: Haha! Unbelievable!
Carry on with the hmming for another minute and a half.
Friend: Okay. You can't do this to me. I called up because I wanted             to speak with you.
     Me: Hmm hmm. (I know!)
Friend: Seriously? If you keep this up, I am never speaking with             you ever again.
     Me: Hmm mm? (Oh-kay?)
Friend: So, you're gonna stay this way, huh? Well, if you can be                   stubborn, then so can I.
     Me: -silent- (Facepalm!)
Friend: I'm gonna cut the call now. Have fun.
     Me: Hmm. (Night!)
Cut the call.

I was left absolutely puzzled. I wondered all night about how selfish people have been about how I live my life, all my life. All the 'talk to me, damn it', the 'why are you doing this to me' & the '10 minutes, just me, please' has got me wondering if people ever cared about any of my actions for my sake or was I constantly satisfying some hidden agenda of theirs every single time.

Hello, world? Uh... hi! Here's the thing... you see, the next time I tell you that I am doing something for myself, try not to demotivate my spirit or derail my will, because honestly, we could do with lesser negativity. MUCH LESSER. I'd like none, but let's settle with lesser for now. Just like you keep telling me that I need to stop with all things that are me, please remember, not everything is about you. Stop making everything about you. My life sure as funk isn't about YOU!

I like the people laughing at me or making this task tougher to accomplish. Thank you! You are entertained, you entertain me, you make me more determined at wanting to get this done and your enthusiasm about my idiosyncrasies is endearing as hell. The others... well, just keep your snotty nose out of my blissful choo-choo train. Stay on the dingy platforms. I do not want your mucky booger all over my bright sunny ways, nor do I wanna keep shoving my pretty little umbrella in your icky face.

I hear our Chief Kitchen Stewarding in-charge blasting away (his capillaries, maybe some major blood vessels, definitely his gall bladder) at one of the lady stewards and the librarian pleads to me, "Why don't you give him that badge? Or make him another!" And I can't help but giggle at the mirth his petty reason for stressing out is causing. Ah! Humanity! Petty, frivolous, and rib splitting, funny bone cracking hilarious.

I'm sitting here, in my happy silent zone, listening to the humdrum and din and whines and screams of all the youth around me. In a LIBRARY! For Socrates's sake! I mean, come on! You could shut up in here, at least, I think? But they've all got the bug... The YYF (yappity-yap-flu), strain nonsensical (I love this word). I have been suspended from classes, both practical and theory, and my punishment is the opportunity to learn as much as I can or wish to. I am so regretful! (Note sarcasm.)

Wish I had that bottle of Anejo and a salt rimmed shooter to go with this lime I just scored.
-GaurikaVA =)

There's a first time for everything...

The beginnings are always the most difficult for me... You see, at this very moment, you are waiting to be impressed. You want a reason to spend your next few minutes on this page. While I am desperately trying to think of something (ANYthing!) that will keep you interested. And so, I will write a particularly "cool" and nonsensical statement in hopes of keeping you latched to your screen...

But, alas! I'll fail.

It's not just with writing, though. Beginnings in general are very difficult for me. Every beginning is a moment of impact that effects a series of events that are destined to occur at a later stage of my existence. The "first impression" takes 7 seconds and that is pretty much what the defining moment is made of. So, in case you haven't realised the point I'm getting at, it's basically a lot of pressure to take. That fine line between a little too much or a little too less is almost impossible to stick to. Because there is always so much more to say, a lot more to share. But one can't just give it all away! You have to start slow and smooth, build up momentum, attain crescendo, and then, bam! Conclude.

And cool statements don't make it work because one needs something more. One needs to be able to connect and relate. And that is exactly why I have hesitated a million times before, every time somebody asked me to publish a piece of work. My style of writing is very personal. It's pretty much the notion of wearing my heart on my sleeve when it comes to writing. And the gut wrenching feeling whenever somebody fails to "feel" the piece is heart breaking.

But I can't please everyone! I know I rarely ever please anybody. And yet, though I find content in that fact as a person, as an artist? Why should I feel this overpowering need to do right by somebody else? If I believe that my life ought to be lived my way, then my writing ought to reflect my belief, shouldn't it?

I have spent weeks trying to get this one little piece done. A special somebody inspired me to kick start this little activity here in order to grease my rusty writing. And oh! Inspired I was! But I just couldn't write. I dint know how to approach it. I dint know how to approach you. I tried being formal, sounded like a pile of LSD baloney. I tried the slang thing and ended up getting depressed at the realisation of how outdated my knowledge of it was. Then my sister told me that it was a sign of good education so, I got over it. but it was back to square one. Hours of staring at the screen, blank.

But the special somebody (I know that you know who you are, and thanks a tonne, my beloved) would just not give up on me. She asked me, "For all the years I have known you, since when do you need a topic to write? Why don't you write about yourself? You are fun, so is your life. Write about it!" I figured, "What the heck! I am not putting up anything, anyway. Something is always better than nothing..." So here it goes.

A few kebabs, some cheesecake, half a muskmelon and a cup of green tea later, I (finally!) sit finalising this piece. Yes! I eat like a glutton. I am one. And I am happy.

I wrote a whole paragraph about my weekend and then delete it. Doesn't feel right, to get too intimate at the very first go. All in good time. If you have made it till here, cheers, mate. Thanks a tonne for reading it all. But it is not all I had to say. I shall be back soon with something less draggy and more springy. Something more insightful and less vague.

Keep those shot glasses ever ready... I'm sure salt and lime aren't that tough to lay your hands on.
-GaurikaVA =)