Living with a Funeral

I cannot plan for my birthday without thinking of you. Yours would come just two days before mine.

And I can only be grateful that on your last year, the three of us childhood friends could finally celebrate each other's birthdays and exchange our gifts - something we had planned every year of our childhood years but which never came owing to the summer vacations.

I can only be grateful that on your last year, you spent so much time with me- something we had missed for many years before that owing to the locations, as well as our own differences. I can't believe we didn't talk over some simple exchange of judgements towards each other.

If we were alive, you'd probably in the room next to mine, with Aunty, planning a road trip to either Coorg or Kochi, or discussing a business plan with that sitting amount in your savings account. Or maybe just spending my money on food. :-D

You know I don't interact with your ex-girlfriends anymore. They caused you a lot of pain. And all the boys who ignored you the year before that, I haven't really made an effort to meet them too. Something stops me from interacting with them as freely as I used to.

I remember everything, as usual. When we were in class six, and she proposed to you after discussing with us. And then you both sang the song Tera Chehra in a class and it was the highlight of the day. And then we were in class seven, and I borrowed the latest Bryan Adams album from you. A cassette of Room Service was the name. The song This Side of Paradise fits perfectly now.

The telecom service has given your number to someone else now. It feels empty to not see your whatsapp dp. My previous phone has broken and I don't find our last exchange of messages anymore. It feels emptier. I had written a note for you on Facebook and I can't find it anymore. It's on my Instagram for sure - Sanhita Baruah on Instagram: “Maybe words do immortalize people... I hope they do. I have heard enough about the calm before the tempest to believe in one. Happiness…”

I hate it that I have never seen you in my dreams. So I question the ones others have seen.

I hope you are happy now, wherever you are. This is not even a eulogy- just a lot of emotions pouring out of my eyes and finally through my fingers to this record.

I can only be thankful for the summer of 2017. I don't know how I would have taken your loss without it.

Thanks for the tears. I needed it. I hadn't cried like this in months.

Happy Birthday in advance. You'd be 32 this year. Rest in peace. You have my love and you know it.

Remnants of a smile on a stone-cold face

And maybe you can fool everyone again

That death isn't as painful as we make it to be...

Some tears bottled up from months gone by-

You'd say judge not how one deals with loss...

Dying dreams like drops of dew under a rising sun,

You'd laugh they don't chain your ankles anymore...

We'd cry for we wouldn't know any better

And make stories of your new whereabouts, 

Playing MJ songs and laughing at your own jokes...

Or in a make-believe world of hope,

Somewhere in peace in a dreamless sleep...

(Poem written on 14th September 2017)

"Are You a Lesbian?"

“Are you a lesbian?” A friend of mine once asked me mockingly when we were discussing about my aversion from some (“some” not “all”) kind of men. “No. But does it matter?” I asked her scornfully. No, I wasn’t bothered that I was asked a question about my sexuality. But what I didn’t understand was that is being a lesbian a matter to be jeered about? What if I was one? Wouldn’t I be hurt and embarrassed that my sexuality was just mocked at? Why are the words “gay” or “lesbian” used as slangs? Another incident, that took place a couple of years back, was when I was teasing two girl friends of mine, accusing them of having an affair. I considered it as normal as teasing a guy and a girl. One of them found it so disrespectful that she, instead of simply denying the fact, chided that she isn’t of such “third class” standard. I later discussed the small argument that we had, with her, trying to make my point that being a lesbian or a transgender doesn’t define anyone’s cla

Tears of blood

[ The poem is written as a tribute and encouragement to the unfortunate rape victims of the society who are fighting every day to live with dignity. This poem is published in Read In Park ] Never had known pain, As I do now… Never knew what grief is, But I do now… When the morning sun knocks on my window, I weep silently recalling that loathsome night, When the rays fall on my wet pillow, I wail in self pity ending another sleepless night. Every morning I look into the mirror To see the detested face, Robbed, touched, raped, I now loathe my every single trace. I had begged for help, Had cried for mercy, But no one took a single step, That night to rescue me They jeered at my pain, Laughed at my plight, “Men” they called themselves Those beasts of that night The fear that arouse in me, I fear it may bring my death Growing day by day, It questions my each breath The bruises on my face will heal, But the trauma ev

Exploring the City of Lakes - Udaipur

I like solitude, to be left alone for a date with my thoughts. It’s beautiful the way you do not feel lonely even though you know not a single person in the place you are in, in the city you are in. Although I have travelled alone before, gone to places all by myself, I’d never be entirely alone- I’d meet friends in the city or along the journey. This time I decided to make my comfort zone a little wider, to add one more escapade to it- a solo trip of four days and three nights to Udaipur, a must-visit city for tourists in the state of Rajasthan, India. Beginning with the transportation from Gurgaon/Delhi to Udaipur- I luckily got flight tickets cheaper than that of train. I booked the tickets only a week before my departure date; train fare was somewhere around 1700 INR while airfare was around 1500 INR. (However, the return tickets cost me a fortune so I still suggest taking a bus or a train for those who have the time and patience/) I expected Day #1 to be an uneventfu

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