I wont own you

Can you pick up those papers?
and tear them?
where prejorative are the shadows
... of the mind
along with those words
that once brought me to life
Take me to an unknown place
where people function to disown
Where lilies would sway
and a silver lining
and my being has lost its way
I wont own you
I wont hear you out
You dont belong to me now,
In a far off land ,
I live to die,
I live to derive a note
A note that would speak of
the awesomeness lost
and a crude goodbye
to my sound of goodness
where I would be the one crowned

Kenya

I have dissatisfied the monochromity in me,xenophobia aside by the glossy lights that enrapture the numinous as soon as I looked out of my flight window,into the world of Dubai.I had a french man beside me asking the flight attendants for earplugs and sighing in french for two toddlers behind us,one of whom who was still not convinced that the Emirates flight was actually an aeroplane.However the scene looked coldly glittery.It was as if the city was alluring me to kiss it.So I moved my head a little forward to get a glimpse of it.Though not a very different scene from the one you would have from a flight to Mumbai.As we landed I took the transit route.I had a few hours before I could take the next flight to Kenya.There I was alone.From Swarovski to Vertu,Dior to Valentino,Volkswagon to Ferrari,name it and everything is up for sale.Millions of people travel every year through this route to market.Heaped with a Rolex watch,Givenchy shoes,a Gucci t-shirt and Moschino Perfumes,I was content.I reached home seated beside a man who had an invitation for me to the Intercontinental Nairobi for an eduactional fair as an Indian in Kenya.

It has been 3 days now
and  a dozen reasons why one should visit Kenya

1.African Safari
2.Masai Mara
3.Marine life/Walk at the beach in Mombassa
4.Pristine nature
5.Kind and soft spoken people
6.Feeding the giraffe at the Giraffe Manor in Nairobi
7.The famous Flamingos at Lake Nakuru
8.The Rift Valley
9.Migration of some two million wildebeest
10.Lake Victoria
11.A sip of the famous Tuskan beer
12.Standing on the Equator
13.Experiencing a culture of British colonialism,some forty two tribes of Kenya and the local/Nairobian pulse
14.Avoacados


Still to do--

Mountaineering at Mt kenya.
Visiting Naiberi camp,Eldoret club in Eldoret at Kaptha Ghat Road on the way to Uganda.Some golf and spa in the deep forest.
Listening to the rythms of the Samburu tribe


This experiennce is going to be one of a kind.

I love Kenya.
Some of my fondest memories here in Africa ....

See you next year in India !!

Karma

There was a time I hated being cornered.I didnt like being centred either.I wanted things to work my way.I wanted to be in control.I wanted to possess,yet I didnt want to be possessed.And I felt completely alone.The trick was to dig deep in the dirt yet come out safe.Impassivity became an adventure.I took pleasure in guilt,because I didn't own it.I was forcing myself to be something I was not.And I wont deny, it still exists in me.I dwelled in pedantry,in futility,in excessive want.I felt worthless,frustrated.I was however unaccountable for what was going around me.Call me spoilt,but I dont blame myself completely.Escapism was the one way I could feel what I wanted to feel.I wanted to narrow myself as that girl,who was different.Who was strong.Who was bright.People often called me a "good girl".Though I never really understood what they meant.Today,I am responsible for what I do and what I say.I am responsible if I say yes to a relationship.I am responsible if I say no to my ambitions.I am aware of the consequenes.I am aware what I give is what I get.I am aware that I have let go of certain people,relationships.I am moving to the next level here.What I do is what I am.What I feel is what I am.I am sending this messege to the universe well aware that karma exists.Yes its a hell of a bitch.
I am writing to vent.To feel what I have felt so long.Its all in the purity of the purpose.If you want it,you get it.No extrinsic force can change that.The power is within us.
Life is truly beautiful.The mantra is to give a lot to this world.To relax,to be happy and make others happy.
Theres alot more to what you have.Theres alot more to you than you can imagine.

Something I wont look at in the same way

I ask myself in ignorance,
Should I rub shoulders against all odds?
Should I cry till I find God?
I desperately seek a voice
when a shallow picture sinks in...
I squint in the dark
walking away from the luminous
that speeds up behind me
to swallow to put me beside
till I am lost in the track.
I penetrate the static inside me
before its to late
to thrill,
to take pride
In the lost self
to relish the taste of the past
when I know,
I am not lost
I am here
Not going anywhere
Just that the world seems upside down
And something I wont look at
in the same way

Swift

....like drifting nature would carry,
the amusing flow of liquid,
where I feel powerless,
down under the mass of water
I seek a movement of my arms,
I seek to find

lost parchments of loneliness,
that you found for me,
And I would shed tears
that would beguile,
the inner most expectation,
like giving birth to the dead,
that my powerful legs nest,
and cry out the enormous,
where I found you amongst,
millions of colorful gravels,
the serene sand,
unable to make you move

Being Myself.............

I juggle with the coalescing of wisdom with experience,the calm and being a rebel,where some obscure denomination could harness the beauty and if identified could mercilessly salute the rational.I have come across the obtuse eyes of the jilted,the enemies far enough to dwell in my optimistic fervours to protect my identity.Only if it all could stem from self possession,I would believe in the flow of being a woman.But that doesnt mean I dont love being feminine or being born the way I am.Just as I say,vulnerability is alluring till innocence begets confidence, I wish I could follow it.The most charming part about being myself,is feeling independent,faithful and warm.I was always a quiet child and silence has been my most powerful weapon.I sometimes simulate to be a worker for mankind.I help my family,my friends,encourage them and believe I am serving the world.My mind is unable to see the bigger picture.The impoverished.Perhaps I dislike sadness.I dislike the pain in human.I am suffering from a disease we all suffer.I am selfish and guilty.I would rather be resolute in my lame attempts to conquer.Even in the most insignificant pictures and I start to conquer the world.A better place for all to live in.
As I always say,I wish I was stronger,less reckless.I wish I could enjoy the inane.The sweet nothings of the the indiscreet angels.In a never halting,never morose world to speak out,voice those prayers and destroy the dicord into the evil.

I am just a Summer Girl !

Is this the little chutzpah in me?
provoking indigence,
where my heart entices the glamour,
my mind advoacting the chaste

I was immobile,
crying for a rich guy,
playing with an artist,
Mind games...............
they sought the hidden behind,
a wrought breast,
the reserved unrequited passion,
that reminds me of forlorn,
till I find another at my doorstep........

Knock Knock!
"Whose there?"
"A smile and a face,
with a clown's humour,
to sadden when you leave
to brigthen when you peep,
sliding across the place,
where I found you,
making intense movements,
disastrous by the inexpliacble,
I come with a knight's demeanour
like Lochinvar,
And sabotage your life,
till you find another"

"Do I need you?"I ask
I want to feel weak in my knees,
slow like the nature,
I dont want to hurry,
I have been there
I want to feel warm,
To feel space,
To laugh and let be,let go
Let go of me,
Let me be
I die now for you,
reborn to my childhood

Like the summer girl,
I always was,
happy and sweet,
unaware of the world
behind those piles of books,
I belong there
Into my fabulous dreams

I keep my swagger!!

Should I feel masculine,
beneath this labyrinth of sullen grey
I believe I cant play dirty nomore,
in disfigured strength,
In pretentious monotonous,
... when time is servile
I command to run,
around these large spaces

amidst the squall of summer rain
where infinity is my territory..........

Or chehra dekhe mone holo....................

আমাকে দিল ও দেখা
ওর  চেহারা  দেখে মনে হলো
কত পেয়েছে ব্যথা
ওর  আওয়াজ যেরম
ওর  করুন চরিত্র ছায়া
আমার শরীর  দমকে ওঠে
ওর  নির্লিপ্ত হাঁসি
কেন যেন এই মূল্যহীন সময় তা
ঢেউএর মতন ভাসে
ওর  জন্য
ওর স্নেহ আমার মন বিচিত্র করে
কিছু যেন আমি বুঝিনা
এক শিশুর মতন কাঁদি

Having a sunny day ...

I take pleasure in you.................

The repititive voice of waves,
whispers my name,
caresses your arms
as you float across the vast ocean
kissing your body,

as you breathe those sighs,
the fluid
recontructs against the warmth,
expresses impunity,
yet touches the very depths of your palms,
your insides,
like subtle creaks that taste,
the salt of nature,
in recklessness
in fault,
in want,
in hunger
in between pearls of laughter
I take pleasure in you,
since forever

When I look in the mirror...............

I was born in a cocoon,whipped with criticism,love and anger.Taking for granted the times ,when I look at myself,at the people around me and being unable to categorize them as beings but something that God daubs in the canvas of the world again and again.And when I come across someone whom I may admire,I believe its the commencement of the new me.The verve,the requiem for the self is being different,not blithe.There are times again, when I  yield into the cantankerous lot,sometimes even to myself,I sin.I sin to my identity where ignorance requiting wrong cannot win over.But this futile persisitence in my head,unlike the puritan or the draconian,or a self posessed being declaring some misanthropic euphoria,I believe in what I do or I try to do.


I have been cruel to myself.Sometimes to people I love.I am trying to denounce myself by conveying my life's melancholia,idecisiveness.Enrapturing the prisioner in me.Setting afire the callous in me.
I have been obesessive and impulsive.I have lived in nostalgia,where I discovered my constructive self.


Though,I still look in the mirror.I still look at myself.I dont know if I love enough,but I care.
Who am I?What am I to do NEXT?


I have built a wall of respect.Should I break it?
Should I drag myself away from this self made home?


Or should I die again,amongst the people?
Like living an unsuitable abstinence?


So I begin to fret once again...........................

I have spent my days in gentle sinning...............

The title of the post has been taken from the book"The Descendants"by Kamala Das.
I always had a thing for the zany,the lewd,the subtle,the attention seeker.It went like a stray-dog hunting project where I wanted to build myself an identity.I wanted to bring myself a name.Feeling proud to be an Indian yet being an exponent to an intolerant society.Accepting flaws and accentuating it.Understanding aesthetics.But somewhere I  went wrong.I seemed anti-social.From being in school to now being in college,I still have an impulse to stand out.Away from the caluminous,but the genuine,the original,the creative.I am still on the look out for the gross that could could seem magnetic.In my words,in my actions,in my beliefs.
I am becoming something else everyday.
I am irascible.
I am not me.
This is just an I........................

Envy

I have spent my vitality,
against myself, against you,
Where I always put a cross against my chest,
half dreaming to still mar all those who had an eye on you

Come to me,
beneath these tender times,
softer forms,
untouched grounds

When I would  make the babies,
the aroma in my house,
die a scornful death in your arms
till I feel the worth in my womb
and perception in my senses

I have not given up,
and I fly across the land
like you would when you took those fleeting steps
for all that you loved

Now,I have stiched myself to a notorious bed,
and I am waiting for you
to make the most out of ourselves
to redeem to make new

Knife my heart,
for you are my envy,
I cant let you loose

I still wait for you

I still wait for you,
in my soundless sleep
in my fragile body
where you have spread
the most excessive breaths
it still hurts in those wild places
it still hurts in those helpless spaces
engrossed in futility
engulfed in pain
Impose on me
your feminine touch
till I have had enough of you

I still wait for you

Tomar chobee amaar mone bosche ache

তোমার ছবি আমার মনে বসে আছে
কথায় কথায়  তোমার নাম
যাকে চিনিনা জানিনা দেখিনি
তার জন্যেই আমার চোখের জলের  দম

এক বার এসে যাও আমার বাড়ি তে
আমার মনের ঘরে দেখে যাও
তোমার জন্যে আমি প্রাণ ভাসিয়ে দেব
তোমার জন্যে ধ্যান

আমার মন ছুটে  বেড়ায় 
তোমার আওয়াজ  শোনার জন্যে
আমার চোখের দিকে তাকিয়ে দেখো
পাবে তুমি বহু দিনের প্রেম
বহু দিনের কথা
তোমার কথা
আমার বুকে লুকিয়ে আছে 

তোমার চোখের দৃষ্টি
তোমার ছবি আমার মনে বসে আছে

পৃথা

Dawn

I scream of shame,
I scream of obstinate discord
In fleeting,to divulge
fruitless medley of sensational voices
from here to comprehend
my assets
I entreat you
enunciate my name
a glint of kisses on my palm
enunciate my name
beautify the ancient
recondition my desires
in a sleepless city
to turn me
into dawn

To an erratic extent.........................

I thought of you yesterday.I thought of you today.I will think of you tomorrow.

To an erratic extent.

Every morning I wake up,its your face I want to see.

Every night my body is warm with desire,

for that one call,that one smile,that one kiss

that one"You are mine"

I want to belong somewhere

to someone's soul

to complete someone.

I dream of you now.

Your fertile hands,

Your fertile body,

like soils,valleys

the back of your neck

vibration,river

and your sonorous voice..................

I dont want to count till I breathe your name

To an erratic extent

I know you think of me

I too wonder who you are

And when I see you for the first time

I will never let you go away ..............................

To my viewers.........................

Salut!

All I want to say is a thank you to all my viewers.

I have some audience from United States and Russia.

If I could post "smutty" content on my blog,I would :)
But now is not the time for me.I have been writing for a while now and I have found it to be very liberating.I am still learning.

Watch out for more of me ...................

Cheers !!

Tears pierce you.....................

Tears pierce you
like the fluvial enmeshed
to feign the supressed divine
when your wings envelope my depths
where I dismay
I am not there as yet
gaping in the hollowness
but you might bring me
those perfervid corners
to arouse
to fondle
till I give up
as in a chattel who groans
in the vague
to ardous ties

Lemon my life,squeezed with love,I mix some rouge,to fly like a dove

I want to be influenced by you.Stronger than I influenced you.

My life is a lemon.Lets squeeze it.Dessicate it.Lick our fingers.Suck the curves of our palms.Indelicately and bleakly photograph those errors, till we photoshop our lives.
Mine and Your's.
Emphasize,predominate.The minds that would ameliorate us.Our blazing personalities.
For the past is already enshrined,where we stand like scruffy teenagers who formulate homemade theories of victory.Indefinable and indecisively cavalier,who recriminate.Walking along the precarious road where one dies a false death and wins a false victory.

To playing a charade from now to ever again?

Baby its you and me.

Cheers !!

Love from Lalaland

I wish you come back to me,soon,so I could fall in love again.
Come revive me............................

Kisses,
Pritha...............................

xx

Tapping the bare of your skin........................

Tapping the bare of your skin,

into imbecile circles

that would transfuse

the oppressed

into excessive imploration

my hand would intertwine with yours

the untouched

where our inane

would shriek pleasure

and wet our eyes

through a nubile

through a puerile

When I write..................

I looked at my parent's old photo album reminiscing the wonderful times that creep in the very minute mellowed moments of existence.I looked at my mom's face now.Still the same.My parents.Just grown up.I think of my pictures.Some that I have deleted.Some that I have kept.Some that I would want someone to see.Some that are only for me.I look at other girls my age.I talk to other guys.Arent we all the same?Just the way we look at things.Just the way we feel?So what makes us different?
I dont know.....................
I would call them mine.They who stand out from the crowd through their honest manoeuvres.They who come to me ,they who make me safe and beautiful.This one time in my life I would want to rule completely and honestly and shed tears out of laughter.Away from the disfunctional times,the ruthless hours and unsafe nights.Away from the pretentious times, when I would agree that violence,men and romance aren't all that related.Like a music that would seep through the core of my heart and put off the heated battles that I fought with myself .And all those cool dead nights that would answers my prayers through these bright afternoons,when I try and convinvce myself.When I write.

Am I to blame?
For all that happened in my life?

Am I to feel happy for all my achievements?

I am not sure.But I have lost all precacious thoughts.I have no regrets.

Just the evil that I convince to instrument,so I could vent.Vent all my superstitions and inhibitions.Like a hole in a dirty moral cover.

Now is the beginning of new times.
Now is the beginning of thinking anew.
Its the new ME!

Of smiles and color.............

Dirty Hands

I run across the seas
chanting
and sodomizing
a long awaited dream
of the tempest
when I am arrested,
my hands are chained
with yours and I turn pale

You spoil my color,
You spoil my dream
crying a ruthlless supposition
for my speechless rupture
a noxious parameter
my sanity,disputable
loses to
the discursive,
the belief

Je marche dans une terre de feuilles seches

Je marche dans une terre de feuilles seches,
englouti dans la victoire,
ou j'avais ecrit des histoires d'amour
dans les quartiers solitaire du coeur


Soudain,une tristesse s'empara de moi
quand votre visage perd de son importance


Mon rire m'a gueri
Nouveau temp m'a gueri


Je suis libre
Je suis libre aujourd'hui

I dream of the night you baked me a pie

Is life a hollow sphere?
like sweet inspirations
from life
a baby making a Chagall
all those causeries that come to the point of nothing
all those words we dont remember reading...........




I would want to make love to him,
a person who talks nonsense for hours,
a person who doesnt know what he is talking about,
a person who loves and lets love come his way,




I would want to feel nothing,
to feel like I am just born,
like the child talking of the known
like people talking and caring
but only the not so good emotions
coming my way




I would run away with a beautiful girl,
just love till she is scared,
O I would love to play a man for a while




I would then turn into
a scarlet woman`
and my face would be so synonymous
around the globe




I would return home everyday to see my man,
leave notes on the floor,on the table,
to bake me a wonderful pie.....................




I guess apple pie.




I dont like apples,
but I would change for him.




I would wake for hours,
days and nights
just to hear him talk
just a call
My pillow would be wet with tears
and my eyes swallowed and tired 
  
Yes I would  fall in love.................




Just like the song "Truely,madly,deeply"




I would strum the guitar every night,
It would never be a charade?
I dont know....................




I dont want to have fun,
I just want to get busy,
with nature.....................




like  2+2=4?




like is the sky blue?


like Am I sane?


or am I human?




peut-etre une vie qui n'est pas pragmatique




I want to collect those lentils for my kindergarten project,
come running to ma for arhar,moong,chole and so on................


and dance those bollywood numbers,
singing Dil toh pagal hai for hours....................
and dreaming about a fairytale ending
to my kind of bollywood story






and never think about life,


Just find a space .....




writing histories
of how people grew up
emptying bottles of vin rouge..............................






I am not looking back,
My life is small................................




Just that kid




Who is too ignorant to be scared !

Spread me...........

Thorns sketch my stature
the ice fills my lips
I dwell in the lost where they hid
the caresses
of the lascivious wind
lost from the passive dominant
lost from the dormant sips
drugged with laughter
and your heated tricks


My shadow
stands a prisoner
in your succulent arms
that has passions
grilled through me
I cry to be swallowed
I cry to be pricked
to be a see through
in the sunlight
to satiate your eyes
that moan of desire
My face burns
where you touch
the breaths I spread on you


Spread me now,
sedate my fear
for the one temper
I saved for you