Monthly Archives: September 2015

Not enough

Stripped to the bone,
because skin wasn’t enough.
Look into my soul,
because heart isn’t enough.
I’ll do what you need
and say all the right things.
Still, to explain myself,
words aren’t enough.
I wish it were a game,
at least one of us would’ve won,
but I guess to fate, one looser wasn’t enough.
You did forgive me,
but I guess to me, once wasn’t enough.
I did love you, you know
but I guess to you, words weren’t enough.
They say love is all we need,
but to keep us alive,
love wasn’t enough.


* Pictures by Sanjana Dawani, and kudos to her for her new #nucollection. Visit her page on Facebook, Twitter, Flickr or instagram 🙂


Come back to me.

It’s been a long time now. Way too long. I’ve moved from denial to anger. I’m not messing around now. I get it, I should’ve taken better care of you. But damn it, it’s time to come back home to me. Come back and that is it.
I can’t do this anymore without you, Internet. Come back!!

The difference.

If you follow the Mumbai end of the Agra-Bombay road a little further after regional Park in indore, there comes a village called Bijalpur. It’s before IIM indore, and you need to take a twisted left to reach there. If you take a right, you’ll go back into the city. Not if you take left. If you take a left, you’ll be introduced to a whole new world.
This isn’t a geography lesson about Indore, I’m getting to the point.
Bijalpur is a village. But take the image of an Indian village your head, add a township to it’s left and also, in the starting add few of the most lavish houses I’ve ever seen in my life. But if you go further inside, it’s a village.
The people living there don’t consider themselves living in indore. To them, indore is a different city. They have their own community,and it’s very tightly joint together. Everyone there knows everyone, and are somehow related. Now, the main occupation of that place is farming and politics. People there speak malvi. I’m fluent because my mother’s side speaks that language. Now the people of bijalpur can speak Hindi, too but they prefer to talk in malvi among themselves.
So, I go there everyday to teach. No, it’s not a volunteer thing that I’m doing for free. I’m not that a good person that I’ll go 12 kilometres everyday, one way, to do something for free. I get paid pretty well to teach there. So at first, it was only out of boredom. I needed a distraction to take my mind away from the falling castle that my life was. At first, I hated working too. But I had an obligation, so I did it. After a couple of days, that became the highlight of my day. I teach kids from 8th to 12th, so thank god I don’t have to deal with the little ones otherwise I would’ve shot myself.
I don’t know why, everyone there is so happy. So freakin happy all the bloody time. It was annoying at first, like my life has just fallen apart, I need to start from scratch, what the hell are you so happy about?! But their happiness was infectious.
My students consist mainly of a bunch of boys who are happy, hard working and actually intelligent. Most of their parents aren’t that well educated, so they have this fire in them about studying as much as they can. And by this, I do not mean they’re all very quite and don’t make a noise and study all the time. Lol no. They’re too much to handle sometimes. My first day there, and their questions wouldn’t stop. Who are you? What’s your name? What phone do you have? What apps do you use? Are you engaged? Married? And I was just like…how old do you think I am?(By that I found out that the girls in their community are likely to be engaged before they are 18 and soon after they pass high school, they get married. It took me a while to digest that, but I know I can’t really do anything about it, other than encourage those 4 girls I teach to first get an education and then get married. In fact, a lot of my students are engaged. I’ve reached a point where instead of worrying, I tease them about it.)
During my orientation, I remember the owner said that the kids take their teachers very seriously. We have this thing in our culture about respecting our teachers more than God himself. I know right? It’s not like I deserve respect. Sounds all heavy and serious. But it’s not Bullshit. They actually would help me whenever I need them.
A day before teacher’s day, my college had an event. It ran pretty late, but instead of staying at my college and dancing to EDM I directly went from college to bijalpur. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I drive a death vehicle. I’m not even kidding. God knows what all is wrong with my scooter. I know it’s living it’s last moments, but I’m not ready to let go yet.
So here I am, in a full fledged traditional suit, with a kurta that goes below my ankles, heavy as fuck, make up on, earrings and bangles and all that….on my scooter in about 35° Celsius.
Now, before that twisted left turn there’s a bridge. I ta literally called “Gadbadi wala pull”. So right before it, my scooter broke down. You know why? I ran out of petrol. I was screwed. I called my senior at work and told him that I was stuck and probably won’t make it to work. He asked my why and I told him what the problem was. He told me to wait and that he’d be there in 10 minutes. Between the time that he came, two people asked if I needed help. One uncle even offered to give me petrol. And none of it was in a creepy way. They actually, genuinely wanted to help me. Then sir came, along with a 12th standard kid. He told me and the kid to take his bike and that he’d bring my scooter afterwards. I knew it meant dragging my scooter to the petrol station and then bringing it to the class.
I am seriously not comfortable with someone doing that for me. Especially when the person is my employer. But he insisted and I realised he meant that kids were sitting waiting for me. So I went with the kid, and then sir came back half an hour later. He wouldn’t even let me reimburse him for the petrol he got.
I don’t think anyone would’ve done that in the city. Because he wasn’t my friend, my relative, or anything…he was my employer who’s got kids as old as me.
So…yeah, maybe that’s the difference between us and them.  We’d rather be where we are and let other people fix their problems. That’s why I go there everyday without default because I know that I’ll end up learning more from them than they’ll for me.

At least tonight.

Fix your drunken eyes on me,

kiss me like you need to breathe

if not forever then.

at least tonight.

Tell me I’m your one and only,

and you’ll always be mine

it’s a lie but mean it,

at least tonight.

Don’t turn on the lights,

I’ll give you what you want

don’t be scared,

at least tonight.

Slightly broken is all you need,

And we’re shattered to pieces

I’ve got a cure,

at least for tonight.

Let the empty bottles rumble,

let them make a distant noise

forget about them,

at least tonight.

I’ll give you what you like,

then I’ll want to forget,

but no, not tonight.

I’m in over my head, let me dream

at least for tonight.

It’s just the start of the morning,

stay with me, smoke one more cigarette,

don’t let them burn out,

at least not tonight.

I’ll come out from behind that curtain,

and give you what you need,

but watch me in the dim light,

at least tonight.

Give me what I want,

and look into my eyes,

say that you love me, but don’t lie,

not tonight.


The picture is, again, by Sanjana Dawani. Check her pages out at Facebook and Flickr!