The first girl I called Bitch (straight to the face) got so offended that she brought her fist to my face out of infuriation.
Bitch, please! The word Bitch doesn’t even have an *offensive* label in the dictionary, making it like any other boring word like bag or ball unlike the word ‘nigger’.
Bitch means: 1) Female dog;
2) Lewd or immoral woman
3) Malicious, domineering or overbearing woman.
Used both as a noun and a verb.
Bitch is used to mention a girl who doesn’t conform to the societal norms.
To a girl who is ‘considered’ by others to be bad.
Or, to your closest friend!
A word that can be so offensive or be innocuous to friendly!
It’s likely that you knew all the above information about the word. But not this:
It was used, years ago, to refer to the same kind of personality of MEN too! But never saw the light of the dictionary. Cause men, duh! Cause men in the lexicon department thought it wasn’t a VALID use of bitch when the word addressed to men. Cause even the dictionary was supposed to protect the sanity of men.
“If you can’t trust your bartender, you can’t trust anybody.”
I say, if you can’t trust your lexicographer then, you can trust the language!
Everybody is a bitch.
That ineffable feeling in the world when the Lilliputian clutches your fat finger with all his tiny Lilliputian fingers and smiles foolishly in his sleep staying oblivious to the world around and what it has in stake for him. That which stops the chaos inside and around you and makes you forget everything else! And in that moment a tiny little creature that has been hibernating for a long time inside you flickers and starts to glow! That ephemeral feeling of Bliss!
We would go on dates to new restaurants and roam around the city in bike when we bunked classes.
And here you are having the book that’s in my To Be Read List ( you’d have one by now) in your hands and sitting beside me reading books and I can already picture our future together and how we could stay in the couch all day and savour the words holding hands as cute little granny and grampa!
A few months ago I wished you read books. You did. Now I wish you read fiction to find out if you too thought Dickens’ novels are never too old to read and found Paula Hawkins’ writing gripping enough to keep you clipped to your seat for hours long and made your nights eerie. If you too would shed tears when you read Nicholas Sparks each time and if Khaled Hosseini rips apart your soul as much as he did mine.
The inexplicable feeling that you have when you can remain silent together without having words to fill the space and remaining in the solitude of oneself at the same time!
Now that’s the kind of relationship every introvert would crave for.
What more does one need?
To the Best Date Ever! Thank you !
The effervescence of the water in the bath tub with all the salts and fragranced scents, with the aroma of coffee mixed with daffodils. The ethereal lighting of the bathroom made her remove her bath robe gracefully like satin slipping away without grip on the smooth surface of her skin. She stood there naked and exhaled all the impure air from the outside world. She lifted her right leg as if she were a new Indian bride believing it as a sign of good luck when entering a kin’s home. The water was knee-deep as she stepped into the bathtub and inhaled the daffodil scent as if it were petrichor.
She lay there in the calmness and stillness of the water as if she was somewhere else in some other planet. She found solace, right there in that bathtub covered in fragranced water with her head floating above. Closing her eyes she wished the moment lasted forever and that she didn’t have to go to the bed that night and wake up with the fear of the following day and eventually, the future and to face it with a fake smile and a disguise. That she didn’t have to rush through the cacophony in the streets to her open-plane spaced office filled with suppressed dreams and wistful faces, where she wasn’t the person she really was but in the disguise of a workaholic woman.
Is it the occasional sigh of my supine body,
and the fan revolving above it.
or the air that it produces that gently blows on my face brushing off that thin strand of hair and the sweat under it,
is it the distant ambulance vehicle making it’s way past the traffic and the vehicles snarling ahead to make way for the dying one
the adjacent neighbor’s door bell,
or the muffled voices of their greetings.
The gush of water flowing out of the tap,
or the clink of the china dish on the tile.
The transient motion of the plane overhead
is it the yowling of the stray cat,
or the friction of my shampooed hair that smells like beach,
the wordless fervent look before the lovers’ lips meet
or their soles rubbing under the sheets after incessant love-making.
Is it the bee bombinating around the tube light,
or the murmur of the lizard standing by to devour the bee.
The tap-tap of the passerby,
or the bop-bop of the 0.7 mm nib of the pen Continue reading
From flopped food expeditions to discovering the taste of college canteen,
From quick gossips to repeating stories of mine,
From random selfies to never-ending candid photo sessions,
From exchanging books to updating each other,
From crazy college shenanigans to sharing wild future plans,
From break time bites to having the same snack box!
From the funny embarrassing moments to sharing stories of boyfriends,
From sashaying around the campus to holding hands until I tell you it’s too much,
From lame-old jokes to giving each other dirty looks for being weird,
From quick pep talks to failed presentations that only we know,
From short giggles to being each other’s support system,
From tears shed to hankies shared,
We had no clue we were collecting memories all the way to look back and smile later in life when we are two cute grandmas we’ve always wanted to be when we get old.
Thank you for being the special friend through thick and thin of college life.
Now tell me, have I qualified to being your chief bridesmaid ?
Okay, forgive me for being ridiculous, Happy Birthday Girl!
Lots of Love!
Your hilarious friend.
My Sweet Solitary State
As I lay still on my stomach with my torso on the bed and the rest in contact with the cold floor, cold as a result of hours of air conditioning. With the ringtone of my dad’s mobile and the mixer grinder in the kitchen overlaying the high-traffic snarls from the trunk road behind our apartment, I try hard to doze off for a while but no.
Taking my break after hours of online reading that gave me a stubborn headache. Also yesterday’s browsing for post graduate courses gave me an intense tension with wide-eyed fear of future and reality hitting me hard. Refusing to go out and get fresh air as I have to step out of the room and pass by my father working on his old laptop with whom I haven’t talked much ever since the fight, I chose to stay inside my room all day, all alone.
Kick-started my weekend with Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations and looking up the word meanings simultaneously as I savoured his verbiage, reading it aloud for the first few pages and occasionally for the sentences I found extremely profound. Now as I pause to ponder, my shy thoughts refuse to show up from behind the curtain of headache and all I can hear is the revolving fan above me and the flight passing above the fan and my roof but not my dear thoughts.
Ergo, I take my pen and begin to write with a hope that my thoughts would show up clearly at any moment and answer my questions that I ask myself in my sweet solitary state. Daunting, taunting questions that give meaning to my life, my existence and my solitude.