Float Away

I want to carry you with me

Everywhere I go

Through the narrow abandoned streets

Through the flooded trains

Through the vast infinity of space

I want you to see

What I see...

How

Iridescent

 The ocean is

How lyrical the rain forests are

How seamless all of humanity is

I want you inside of me

At the very center of my core

In every breath I breathe

In each particle of me

In the wind that brushes past me

I want you to be my testimony

For everything I ever was

Or ever would have been

For I want to empty myself

Of each grain of thought

Of every thread of emotion

I want to float away one day

Knowing that

I gave as much as I took

And may be a little more.

Young, Wild & Free

Doing drugs is NOT cool. If you want to see rainbows then wait for rains on a sunny day. When I see young teenage boys barely in their teens huddling with peddlers in corners of absurd streets or meeting at random tappris it breaks my heart. Why do you want to lose your innocence so soon? Why do you want to grow up and fall into a dark abyss of drug abuse that stunts your potential? This glow of the universe will seem dimmer and dimmer as you grow old and see how ugly it can be. Why do you want to make it dim so soon?

I don’t know. I was never that kid. I loved experimenting and the rush of that spontaneous moment where you discover new things. Deep down, I’m still that kid who waits for moments of spontaneity. I know what is good for me and what isn't. I feel like two-face sometimes. There are times when that wild child breaks out of the cage of restraint to make her real life seem dreamy and then there are times when that grandmother in me is handing out unsolicited advice to people.

I stopped doing that. People don’t like to be told what they ought to do. But more or less, in moments of grief these kids come to me and confess to me as if I’m a pastor who can free them of their sins. I feel it inside with an inexplicable pressure in my chest… their regret and I see them growing too, in that moment. It’s beautiful. We should make mistakes. We should do what we want to do. Often, we don’t know what we want to do. We are weighed down by the abominable insecurity of the unknown and we jump into an abyss which calls us with an assurance of liberty from these calls of distress that keep ringing in our head.

Puff… puff… puff…

Those fumes of heady lights are an expression of rebellion against everything that has ever bothered you. Your family, your lovers, your boss, your colleagues, the establishment, the cops, your rapists, your enemies... that pill is a way to hide from the singeing pain of the past, the present and the future. The ecstasy of those euphoric moments is your antidote to the rotting angst that is eating at your insides. It is a moment of numbness and of a flood of emotions running parallel to each other as they both ride away this wave together.

I don’t know. Maybe, I’m wrong. I’m not a junkie. I’m not an alcoholic or a smoker even. Never was. The temptation is enticing and it feels beautiful sometimes to have moments of respite. But no, I want to live with it. I want to live with my troubles and not run away from them.

That numbness can be addictive. If I live in a perennial state of lightness and ecstasy I won’t have to confront the questions that have been looming over my head like a guillotine. Life will breeze past and I won’t have to worry. I can keep doing this and one day those questions will go away. You may forget the questions but they’ll never go away. I wish they knew that. I wish they wouldn't drown themselves in that well of unfeelingness.

I've seen many wondrous souls trapped in such a well who don’t know a way out anymore. Their affair with drugs started with social experimentation as a harmless recreation but it turned into a torrid abusive relationship that held them with chains at their ankles. They yelped sometimes for fresh air but they remained shrouded in their own darkness. Not everyone knows where to draw the line.

When you are skin and bone without anyone, you hold on to that pill… that drink… that smoke thinking that this will get you through. It doesn't. It keeps you away from you.

If you want to let go of your inhibitions, you don’t need a drink. You need you. I handed over a glass of Sprite to this girl one night. It was her first drink, apparently. She barely had 5 ml vodka but she thought she was drunk. She had the best night of her life.

We are all corrupted and broken in one way or another. I don’t know if drugs will cure you. Don’t let it become a need. They maybe an unavoidable part of life but don’t let it become your life. You want to become thin? Then join the gym and eat right. At least, you won’t feel like shit when you wake up the next day or every time you fall sick.

There’s a time for everything and if we are not ready for it, we’ll get thrown away to the side-lines by the sheer force and ferocity of its vagueness. We are young.

Young, wild and free…

Freedom comes with a heavy cost. It’ll make you pay up in ways you didn’t get a chance to bargain for. There’s no turning back. You have to start afresh and it’s a fight that will be worth fighting for. You have a mind of your own or do you? So, your friends are doing it but do you want to? Never hold anyone else responsible for your shortcomings because you always have a choice. Always.

You know, what’s my poison?

Life... I can’t get enough of it. 

Jiah

On the morning of 3^rd June, 2013, Twitter was abuzz with talks about the tragic death of a young Bollywood starlet, Jiah Khan. Born on 20^th February, 1988, this brazen beauty entered cinema with a highly controversial film Nishabd. Not many of her age can boast about romancing The Big B on silver screen. She could.

Getting your big break in the film industry can still be earned through hard work, a little luck and some hard core networking but sustaining your success is another ball game altogether. Many young faces have fizzled out and the same happened to Jiah Khan. Desperately seeking a chance to do quality work whilst jostling with obsessive insecurities that most actors face, she was also involved in an abusive relationship with another struggling actor Suraj Pancholi.

Fairly young, handsome, wealthy and high on testosterone, this boy belonged to the neo-urban class that believes in partying hard and partying harder. I don’t know much about either of them and I’m no one to comment on his character or her character but what happened perturbed me at a deeper level. It shouldn’t have happened.

Apparently, Jiah was pregnant and both being at an unsettled stage of life, it made sense to undergo an abortion. Both of them wanted to make a mark in the industry first. Suraj was trying to leave this behind him and made it obvious with his philandering. It took a toll on that translucent soul who needed to recuperate from the loss of her unborn child.

What must have gone on in her head before she hung herself from the ceiling? “My boyfriend sucks… Nobody wants to work with me… Nobody wants me…. Maybe, they’ll want me once I’m dead. It’s not worth the pain. I should die. Yes. I should die. That will show it to the world. Yes, you suck. World, I’m talking to you… You suck. Suraj.. You suck! May you burn in hell. I’ll die and then you can rot in jail. You ruined me.”

No matter how horrendous your life is, there will be someone out there whose life will be far worse than yours and ending your life is not the answer. The rest of your life is ahead of you and then you cut it short abruptly? You can’t take revenge on anyone by dying. There’ll be many assholes that will come your way but by harming yourself, you are letting them win. You are reaffirming the fact that bullies rule the world. This is your chance to shine, not to bow down under their oppression.

We forget to view circumstances with a different perspective, sometimes. We dwell so much on our pain, our misery, our failures that we forget that there is more to life than this. Talk to other people. Let them give their opinion on matters which disturb you deeply. Sometimes, we miss out on details that they can spot instantly. We like to think that we are in the deepest of deep shitholes. It makes us feel special in some way. But guess what, that’s not true. You have to break out of that self-pitying cycle and really face your problems rather than dwelling on them indefinitely.

City life can be excruciatingly demanding for many. We are constantly competing with one another, if not directly then indirectly. It’s a dog eat dog world out there and in a profession like Jiah’s especially, keeping up appearances is extremely critical. You have to smile. You have to portray that your life is perfect. There will be a hundred people that you talk to but sometimes, there is no vent to let out all the pressure that has been accumulating. The line between real friends and the fake ones gets blurry as over a period of time, you never know who’s going to be there for you. Everyone has to live their own life and everyone has problems, apparently, some more than others.

At times like these, you need a safety blanket. I’m sure if Jiah would’ve called her mother or her sisters that night instead of calling her boyfriend, she would’ve changed her mind. She would be cuddling in her blanket having hot soup. Fine, Suraj shouldn’t have sent her a break-up bouquet. That was stupid and who so ever has started this service should terminate it immediately. But my point is she gave too much priority to a person who was clearly messing up her life.

We do that. We give disproportionate amount of importance to random persons in our lives and take for granted what we already have. Love is blind, I understand. But is it foolish too? If Jiah was churning out blockbuster after blockbuster every friday, she wouldn’t give a flying fuck about what that boy was doing. In her loneliness and insecurity, she wanted solace and comfort. She searched for it in the wrong places.

They say that every time you fall in love, you tend to lose at least 2-3 close friends. As exciting as it is to welcome a new person in your life, forgetting your old friends is going to leave you with empty pockets. Stay in touch. The serotonin rush is heady, I admit but there are some things that you can share only with your friends. They give you a reality check.

Being in a relationship demands love, respect, loyalty and space. There are couples who do everything together and I respect that. Some individuals don’t want space but then there are those who get suffocated and start acting out in unacceptable ways. Philandering, physical abuse, emotional blackmail and what not. You merge your identity with another person but don’t forget who you are. You are your only person, remember that.

Take time out. Meet new people. Travel. Spend time with family. Do your favourite activities. Pamper yourself. Listen to music. Read. Don’t invest everything in one place. Spread yourself thin and widen your safety net. Quality time is more valued than quantity time. Let the other person miss you. Let yourself miss the other person.

Nobody wants to be in love with a person who can’t be in love with themselves. And when they say, “Ghar ki murghi, daal barabar,” they mean it. Value yourself if you want others to value you. You want to be treated like a queen? Then, think like one. They’ll be eating out of your palms.

Women forget that all the time. I wish Jiah had called her mother. I really do.

Love happens only once. That’s a myth! Very idealistic but by the time you are 30, you’ll fall in love at least 5 times. I know septuagenarians who remarried at that age. You have to believe that you’ll find love again. You deserve to be with a person who truly fits into your mould.

You really want to give up your life for a buffoon who doesn’t know what he’s missing out on? What about the hotties that you’ll miss out on if you die? Didn’t think about that, did you?

The court rejected Suraj Pancholi’s bail plea recently. I haven’t read that letter Jiah wrote and I’m still undecided on how much of a jerk Suraj is. However, I know, this tragedy could’ve been avoided.

It’s a Big Bad World out there but it’s not that bad either. There are little pixies that come out at night with golden dust in their hands. They blow it over your eyes while you are sleeping (unless you are awake and playing DOTA). You’ll wake up to see a magical world. You’ll see things you’ve never seen before.

You just have to Believe.

The Mistress

You were there last time

To hold me together

When my world collapsed

And the gloom relapsed.

I came to you…

With teary eyes and sorrows untold

Not knowing what to do and who to hold.

Enveloped in your blanket of comfort

I forgot the worries that haunt

For those moments of heat,

There were no caveats.

I gave myself whole and soul

Without a second thought

With no objective or goal

I let you engulf me

Unquestioning and unbounded

To let this mystery unfold

I woke in the morning

To shade you from light

I left you a note

To tell you of my plight

I left.

Never to return

To be found again

When you want to get lost and regain

That tenderness of anonymity

That solace of unfamiliarity.

I hope you’ll be there next time

To hold me together

When my world collapses

And the gloom relapses.

To Wonder Land

Beyond the boundaries of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there – Rumi.

This field is lush green and expansive. It never ends. It goes on and on for as long as you want it to go. The day you want to reach its boundaries, you’ll find them. Your boundaries are defined by you. Your freedom is defined by you. We forget that we always have a choice.

We are defined by our choices. Our relationships are defined by our choices. We can make them beautiful or we can dehydrate them with a rule book of civilities and normalcy. Possibilities are endless and no two people on this planet can have the same life. No two couples on this planet can share the same lives. Maybe, our choices can be similar. But our reactions, our responses, our emotions, they are difficult to replicate.

Why do we listen to songs about undying love? Why do we write poems to express our thoughts and feelings? Why do so many movies revolve around issues that we want to talk about? Why do we read fairy tales to children at bedtime?

We want someone to give words to our thoughts and emotions. We want someone to tell us that “hey, you are not alone in this world. I’ve felt that too.” We unite in our experiences. We share these moments. We share a bit of ourselves in those moments. That’s how we form friendships. That’s how we find love. That’s how we strengthen ties with our families. Based on the common denominator of human experiences that we share, we build our bonds.

We’ve formed frameworks of these experiences based on judgments formed by our ancestors. We’ve formed limitations to everyday living to gain maximum potential from our lives and to survive as per the laws of Society. If you want to flourish, then you must be a certain way. But my question is do we have to?

Who made these laws and regulations? Weren’t they normal people like you and me? How did they reach these conclusions? 

We have to form our own judgements. Why to accept the status quo without examining it in the first place? Is it working for you? Is it diminishing your potential? Maybe, they were great stalwarts and they set benchmarks for us to avoid the hassle that they went through. But real knowledge and wisdom is acquired through personal experiences and not through texts and speeches. We can take pointers and see where to begin from but we have to get there on our own.

Else, what’s the fun? Else, what’s left to explore? Make your mistakes and fall. We’ll be more alert, more prepared for catastrophes that we haven’t faced yet. We’ll be more acquainted with ourselves. If you haven’t allowed yourself to live, how do you even know yourself? How do you know what you like and what you don’t like? If you’ve sat in a corner watching life go by and never actively been a part of it, life will go on and it will leave you behind.

Don’t be afraid.

Let’s cross the bridge

On the other side lies a world of uncertainty

On this side lies calculated list of probabilities

I can’t promise Happily Ever After

I can promise you a possibility

A possibility of Love

A possibility of Hope

A possibility of Failure

A possibility of Heartbreak

But you won’t regret that possibility

Of not considering the possibility

On the other side, I’ll wait for you

I don’t know the way ahead…

But we’ll make the road

With every step that we take

Rape & Rants

Last night, I went to a friend’s birthday celebration and met a lot of new people. Everyone was in high spirits (pun intended). This friend of a friend was an out-of-work journalist and he was worried about all the girls reaching home safely. Then, he started ranting about the plight of a wronged Manipur girl who lived in the city of Delhi.

Apparently, she had been brutally raped and was in a terrible condition. Her face was disfigured beyond recognition and her lower torso was in an unmentionable state. Despite this, Delhi Police refused to file a complaint. That journalist friend ranted and nodded his head. He said that he does not believe in creating divides and stressing on minorities but he didn’t know how else to comprehend this situation.

Unfortunately, North East Indian girls are highly sort after in child and human trafficking circuits. This region which is mostly cut-off from the rest of India, with a distinct cultural personality of its own, is in almost a permanent state of political turmoil. Families desperate to step out of poverty resort to drastic measures and end up bartering women or young girls in the bargain for a better life. This doesn’t imply that every female from that region is a victim of this trade. But because of this well-known urban lore these girls tend to have a dented impression when they venture out of their region to other states.

I don’t know the real truth behind the story of this girl from Manipur but I’m very well-aware of the social malice they face and probability of crimes against them being unreported.

Nobody deserves to be raped irrespective of the background they come from. No, not even if they are prostitutes. You can’t touch a woman without her permission. Period! How difficult is it to grasp that reality?

It enrages me immensely as I have a lot of male friends who are so chivalrous that it is borderline annoying and then there is this other set of monsters! I fail to understand this.

Why don’t we round up every rapist on this planet and lock them up in a concentration camp. Not to torture them to death but to grill out every line of thought they’ve ever had that motivated them to indulge in such satanic acts of inhumanity. Why do rapists rape?

They are everywhere and not just in our country. India doesn’t fair very well when compared to the other G20 nations in context of gender equality. There is no denying that fact but rapes happen in other countries too. There was (and still persists) a lot of hue and cry about new laws being implemented, about the lackadaisical attitude of the law enforcement and the misogyny of our patriarchal society. Agreed, we have flaws. But this happens elsewhere too.

A man in Cleveland, USA was recently arrested after three women were found alive, a decade too late. He kidnapped them and held them captive in his home for that many years subjecting them to unaccountable torture and harassment. One of them even had a daughter and all of them had a number of miscarriages. Read full story here. That man hoodwinked the system and society at large for 10 years! We expect a developed nation to be more adept at nailing their criminals but the fact is you cannot curb this anomalous behaviour no matter how many laws we put in place.

Maybe, I’m being a bit presumptuous here. But what about those women in Somalia who’ve accepted their fate as sexual victims and consider it lucky if they survive till they hit menopause? Or about those women in Hoeryong concentration camps in North Korea where whole families are held captive and women are more often than not subjected to rape and sexual harassment as a form of punishment? Or about daughters in Saudi Arabia that are always viewed as objects even if they are covered from head-to-toe in a burqah and can still end up being victimised? These countries have capital punishment for crimes like these and even then, rapes happen.

Sickening stories as these are a constant reminder that at the end of the day no matter how much we progress as a civilised society, some primal instincts will always persist. Rapes or gang rapes are a common practice in chimpanzees, gorillas and even dolphins for that matter. This urge, this instinct is deeper than the battle between the sexes.

The only way to eradicate a disease is to get to the heart of it. And I don’t know where this starts and how we can put an end to this. Every time I hear a story like that of the Manipur girl, I have a hard time sleeping at night.

I don’t want dark circles. This must end.

References:-

http://www.irinnews.org/report/34306/india-human-trafficking-in-the-northeast-fuelling-hiv-aids-report

http://www.assamtribune.com/scripts/detailsnew.asp?id=sep2012/state05

http://kanglaonline.com/2010/08/manipuri-girl-molested-in-new-delhi-restaurant-owner-held/

http://www.sciforums.com/showthread.php?38120-Rape-in-animals

Cricket, my love

I love Cricket.

No, I can’t play it. I’ve always had poor motor skills and dim reflexes. I was a fat kid so I couldn’t run around much besides I’m a girl. Girls don’t play cricket, they play badminton especially in my neighbourhood.

No, I’m not a “tomboy”. Absolutely detest that term from the bottom of my heart. I wear my brother’s clothes regularly but I also, have a few dresses and I even apply make-up like a normal girl sometimes.

No, none of my family members are sportspersons. My father used to play at the college level during his hay days but I don’t think it counts. He was hardly there at home to insist on watching matches. However, we as a family used to follow the news avidly during dinners and the occasional cricket matches that were broadcast.

Our whole neighbourhood used to stop working during the telecast of the Sharjah cup. You are not an Indian if you don’t watch India v/s Pakistan. That was a really long ago though. I can barely remember names of the players, let alone details. I was too young to understand the game and its complexities. I’m pretty sure that no other sport has as many rules and concepts as does Cricket. Statistics form such an integral part of it. It’s another ball game altogether.

Sachin Tendulkar, Saurav Ganguly, Rahul Dravid, Ajay Jadeja, Mohammad Azhrudeen, Javagal Shrinath, Anil Kumble, Nayan Mongia, Venkatesh Prasad, VVS Laxman, Naseer Hussain, Glenn McGrath, Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Inzamam-ul-Haq, Jayasuriya… These were all household names for me.

I used to rejoice when Sachin and Dada would be together on the pitch. They had such great chemistry. 

It took me a very long time to understand spin. Yet, every time Anil Kumble would stride across the field and pull out those blinders that hit the stumps, I used to jump with joy. 

We’d watch matches just to see Sachin play. He had another legion of followers; people who didn’t want to understand the game, they just wanted to see God. It made me feel patriotic in an odd way.

I used to turn up the volume when Geofrey Boycott, Tony Greig, Harsha Bhogle or Arun Lal were in the commentary box. Their love and passion for the game was evident even in their voices. That's where i learnt the nuances. My Dad used to tell me stories about cricketing legends like Pataudi, Farookh Engineer, Sunil Gavaskar, Kapil Dev, Bishen Singh Bedi etc. not because he wanted me to learn but because i wanted to know.

After the match fixing debacle of the mid 90s, we turned away for a while. Not many people were keen on spending the whole day watching a match that was probably scripted. But Dada was Team India Captain then and winds of change were making headlines as we started to do well abroad. Team India was infamous for being Tigers at Home and house cats abroad. That was about to change. Fresh young blood was injected into the team. And Dada created history. All those memories bring tears to my eyes (I’m not kidding). Watching Dada marshal his troops on the field, bringing raw energy and uninhibited passion to the game, it made me believe, you know. Maybe, this is real. You can’t script emotions or maybe you can?

I don’t know. I have a folder of clippings of match summaries, pictures, interviews etc. Back then, Internet was a luxury. I still have that folder. It reminds me of how crazy we were at some point. I still flip to the sports section of the newspaper first before reading the rest of the newspaper.

Indian Cricket has been riddled with controversies time and again. And unlike me, not many returned back as a faithful audience. We all watched for the sake of Cricket with the constant thought at the back of our heads that this is Fixed. Bloody Fixed! Every time we win, every time we lose. Every catch that was dropped or every extra conceded. It’s all a bloody fix.

I don’t know any other such sport in India that was or is so popular. Cricket cuts across religions, regions, castes, languages and gender. It blurs the divide between rich and poor. When a match is being telecast in a college canteen or an office lobby, everyone knows everyone. We laugh, we cry and we bring out the best expletives in our dictionaries. We chant. We rejoice! And you don’t have to know the game or the players. Every time we win a match against Australia, South Africa or England, we feel like winners. We feel like belonging to this country. Do you know of any such sport or activity that unites Indians as Cricket does? Please tell me.

Who are our heroes? Who are the people who give us a beacon of hope as a nation? Our politicians are busy playing petty games with each other and the public at large. Our movies take us into an imaginary world that we aim to live through at some point of time but they rarely strike a chord with reality. We, as Indians have a bad habit of putting our “heroes” on a pedestal. We want to be them. With the overdrive of social media we can see through the facade and now we know that even stars are tainted.

Today, Indian Cricket has befallen from the eyes of the public. With allegations of corruption and a devious scandal which will never be truly exposed because of the thick nexus between the bookies, politicians and media alike. Their blood lust for money and power stole away the innocence, the beauty of this game for me and many others. They told me, it’s all fixed. I never heard them. I believed and now I repent.

As a lover of the game and an ardent fan of Indian Cricket, my heart is broken. My heroes seem tainted. Will they ever re-instate my faith?

I wonder and ache, as I watch dirty linen being washed in public.

More

There's more to this than you know. There's more to this than you think. There has to be. There must be more.

 Dream of it night and day then get up and go to find that more. Don't tell me that there isn't. Don’t believe the others if they stop you. They are purged of hope and strength. They haven’t seen it and they won’t. Put on the blinders and slip into the realm of possibilities.

 There is… More…

 Open your eyes to all that you have never seen and not to that which already is. Don’t look behind. Use those binoculars lying in your attic and see ahead in the distance. What do you see? A vast plain of never-ending verdure, a limitless ocean of crystal blue or yellow sands of a seamless desert, is there More?

There must be more to this than they've told. Dig deeper and unearth truths yet untold.

There’s more to this than you know. There’s more to this than you think. There has to be. There must be more.

Start an expedition in search of this till we find More. Forever more and more.

Stop talking about Lindsay Lohan

“Lindsay Morgan Lohan^[1] (pron.: /ˈloʊ.ən/;^[2] born Lindsay Dee Lohan; July 2, 1986) is an American actress, fashion designer, model and recording artist”, as described by Wikipedia. 

If you don’t know who I’m talking about (which is not possible) then refer to the links below:-

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lindsay_Lohan

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0517820/

I don’t know her personally and nor have I been hired by her publicist to plant a story in social media, no. That’s not me. But somehow, today I want to talk about her and devote a small part of my day to stalk her online.

Every day I read an article about her life about how her dog died or how she’s pregnant or how she’s a kleptomaniac even though I live miles away from where she does (I live in Mumbai and she is based in LA). I know all the ugly details about her life much against my wishes. Because it seems tabloids like to educate the common man about the inane life of a child star-gone-wrong even if her movies don’t release in your country and no one really gives a rat’s ass about her existence.

I was surfing and I thought let me see what’s happening around the world and Huffington post thought it was wise to inform me about Lindsay Lohan’s legal battle because obviously my world revolves around how her life is falling apart.

The Lindsay I remember starred in The Parent Trap and she charmed her divorcee parents into marrying each other again through her innocence and wit. As she grew up, she found it difficult to find her place in the fake plastic world which mocks intelligence and celebrates Bimbohood (Mean Girls). After that, I don’t know what happened. She drove past once with Herbie but that's about it, for me at least.

It must be tough to handle such fame, adulation and money at a young age in Hollywood. If you are mildly creative and weak, you are bound to be affected by the constant judging. I cringe even if my sister judges me and here, she’s being judged constantly by millions of people who aren't even directly related to her. You may say that it’s a price one pays for being a celebrity or a rock star or whatever you want to call it. But really, now what? Her life is like a train wreck heading for disaster.

Why are we still talking about her? Why can’t she make mistakes? Why can’t she be pregnant? Why can't she be a bisexual? Why can’t she have money problems? Don’t we all face these situations somewhere down the line? How would you feel if thousands of publications cashed in on your popularity by releasing distasteful stories about you?

We get cheap thrills by talking about other’s problems because at least someone’s life is worse than yours. Respect people’s privacy. There is a boundary that we cross while we are engrossed with this bizarre rush of rumour mongering and gossiping. This is a constant cycle. Break it.

Put yourself in her shoes or whoever you are going to talk shit about the next time. Would you like it if someone else spoke like that about you (even if the scoop you've got is cent per cent true and verified)?

Maybe, she is a mess and not the best person to be but speculating about her life is not going to make it any better, is it? Neither hers nor yours. Public perception and rumours can make or break someone's life. 

If you've got free time at hand invest it in making your life a little better. Try and understand the difference between Left and Right. Take your dog for a walk. Jog a little to tone your beer belly or watch porn or make a sandwich for yourself or whatever it takes to stop you from watering this nasty parasitic tree of Gossip and Rumours.

And, please if possible, stop publishing articles about which underwear Lindsay Lohan wears. Frankly, I don’t give a …..

(i had to say it. There, now i can breathe! You can start judging me now.)

Never Let Me Go

If I fall, don’t pick me up

Let me lie there for a while

Even if i cry out in pain

Let me lie there for a while

Even if I try and can’t move

Don’t pick me up

Be there if you wish to watch over me

But don’t pick me up

I’ll writhe in agony for a while

I’ll close my eyes and open them again

But I won’t stop trying

Even if I try and can’t move

Don’t pick me up

If I fall and you hold my hand

I’ll get up on my feet

I’ll smile and look at you

I’ll hug you with warmth

If I fall and you hold my hand

I won’t let go

I’ll walk ahead with aplomb

But I’ll still hold your hand tightly

I won’t let you go

If you fall, I’ll fall with you

We’ll muster strength to get up together

But I won’t let go

If you want to run

I’ll run with you

The day you decide you’ve had enough

To let go will be tough

If you want to let me go

Then let me fall

Don’t pick me up

Let me lie there for a while

Even if I try and can’t move

Don’t pick me up

Be there if you wish to watch over me

But don’t pick me up

I’ll writhe with aching memories for a while

But I won’t stop trying

If I fall and you pick me up

Never let me go.

Unguarded

I won’t guard myself

I’ll come unsheathed

For you to look at and admire

Uncovered, for the stare of your desire

I won’t guard myself

I’ll wait for the assault of your words

The ones which are said and unsaid

For you to hurt and devour

Unprotected, for this body is numb and nimble now

I want to see how much you feel and how

I want to be encapsulated

I want to surrender

To see if you’ll accept

This state of absolute being

I won’t guard myself

I’ll stand and watch

Every muscle you move
every breath you breathe

I’ll stand and watch

If you run for the hills again

Or if you cement your place

I’ll stand and watch

If you come closer than close

Or if you sit perched up afar at a distance

I want to see what you want

I want to see what you don’t want

I want you to surrender

And let me encapsulate

Your trust, your becoming

To see if we’ll resist

This onslaught of the world

I won’t guard myself

I’ll come unsheathed

For you to look at and admire

Uncovered, for the stare of your desire