With gay sex being decriminalized, a spark of astonishment and anger seems to have been ignited among the Indians. Of course in my generation and the younger folks, such a move is more accepted and even welcomed in some cases because we have in many ways adapted ourselves to a more global lifestyle where homosexuality is quite commonplace. But not all seem to agree. They say it challenges the institution of marriage, changes our concept of a family and promotes vulgarity. They ask whether the next thing we would want to do is to give acceptance to humans having sex with animals.

Since all these debates are centred on moral grounds, I beg to differ from all such voices, because no one has the right to judge someone else on moral grounds. Sex is seen normal only between two people of opposite gender. This idea is rooted in the fact that sex is primarily seen as an act of procreation. But let us not deny this, even if it is taboo to speak of, that humans have more than just that reason to have sex. And if sex is had for pleasure, then why should there be a restriction imposed on the gender of the person one can have sex with, as long as it is between two consenting adults?

Decriminalising gay sex between two consenting adults is a move that marks India as a nation is willing to accept homosexuality on some level, yet there is a wide resentment among its masses. I wonder if we as a nation could ever come to accept gay couples, gay marriages and gay families and give them the respect that is hard for them to find.


Agatha Christie never ceases to amaze me. Just when you think you’ve got the plot worked out and know who the culprit is, Christie will take you by complete surprise. This story had a very strange murder. Interesting, but strange. You’ll be hooked onto this book all along because till the end you’d have no clue as to where the story will lead to but in the end it all falls smoothly into place. Absolutely recommended to anyone looking for a light, mystery read. Overall this one gets a 4 on 5.

PS: I’ve got to complete atleast 50 books till year end but so far I’ve got to 12… Terrible score… So reading overtime now!

Beauty, they sell it cheap,

In bottled liquids and perfumed solids

Why, Everyone! Even the distasteful

Can torment you with their tantalizing and shallow appeal

Why is this feeling so horribly sweet and painful?

It tears me apart to think that I can’t even step forward… what is the point of doing so really?

I can’t get myself to tell him and I can’t exercise enough restraint

I look at myself and then at him… and I feel like I’m cruising along a wild journey while he’s on a meaningful path.

 
 

Why does love come so unbidden?

Tears don’t,

Smiles don’t

Hate doesn’t

Anger doesn’t

Pity doesn’t

Adoration doesn’t

Then why does love?

 
 

I keep thinking of the same person, revising the same conversation in my head over and over again. What is pointless is not the repetition but the fact that the conversation will never take place for real.

 
 

Why can’t I just throw away that which brings sorrow? Perhaps ‘coz it is the only grandiose feeling that I have learnt to feel.

 
 

Will he, won’t he… does he, doesn’t he… shall I, shan’t I?

Every single question brings along its counter

Why can’t the questions for once bring along with them their answers?

 
 

Why do blank questions stare at me in the face and demand judgments?

Why can’t every love-related question have a simple yes or no with no strings attached?

Why can’t the feeling of love be mutual?

Oh of those love notes

And of our love talks

Do you recall the days

When we kept our secrets under locks?

 

Undivided attention

That we sought from some

Sometimes getting from all

And sometimes from none.

 

That joy of being asked out

For the several ‘first’ dates

Accepting some in an instant

Sometimes making them wait

 

Those unending dressing trials

Through layers of closet searches

To disguise our ordinary faces

and look like princesses

 

And then driving away

With one’s heart beating wildly

While the other one stayed back

Herself, bothered mildly

 

Then the return back home

With an ecstasy of a kiss still stuck wet

Or sometimes to misfortune

Having lost the bet

 

How we’ve lived our teens

Through crushes and crushes

Calling he who stole our heart, a crush

And that what break it, also a crush

 

Indeed of smiles and tears

We’ve been mates, sharing our secrets of crushes

And still recalling those strokes of luck

We’ve had with crushes and crushes


 

If there’s one thing you’ll discover while reading this book it’s that not all tales comprising of twists and turns end up being glorious in the end. You’ll enjoy this book for its deceptions, the evanescent nature of happiness and the ever persistent need to feel belonged.

It doesn’t have any prominent male leading the tale. In fact anything that amounts to carving the story is made of women. Be it Starr, the flashy, knows-how-to-get-men-in bed woman or Olivia, a woman who does the same but is so much more appealing in her tastes. You’ll meet Claire, a woman who tried being a wife and a mother but her own sense of insecurity got her no where except the darkest of dungeons or Yvonne who falls in love easily, has babies and gives them up.

Through the eyes of Astrid you’ll see all these women walk into her life and then walk away. You’ll see how much she craves to be loved, be it by her foster mother’s boyfriend or her own mother. And last of all you’ll meet Ingrid, a woman who’s projected as strong and firm of character but who is so self-centered she forgets to give her daughter the security she needs and leaves her shattered, sifting like a useless wave from one home to another.

This novel isn’t for those who can’t digest dark and depressing tales. It’s for those  who love to read reality-tales and not fairy-tales

How elated was I

to be standing on the edge of the height

I had dreamt of all my life!

… And then I lost my sense of being and slipped into the abyss

Maybe I’m the fly in the honey

Drenched in its sweetness

Intoxicated by its power

Unable to pull myself free

Maybe I’m the honey

The golden sheen adorning my body

Made to change every other flavour

To the one that’s mine

Maybe I’m the bottle that holds the honey

That keeps it safe and collected

That is otherwise useless

But just so essential

Maybe I’m the man who tastes the honey,

Loves it for what it is,

Comprehends its utility

And loves to see it drip to make the most tantalizing platter of all

Question existing – Which one of these are you?

The heat continues to melt

The almost liquid trees

And the scenery before me vanishes

Into a pit of raging fire

 

Roots of a hundred year old tress – pull themselves up from the earth

Clouds that would have translated into rain – gather into a storm

Daylight stops caressing the buds – instead begins to sting

 

And my heart all hale and hearty

Begins to wither away and pleads…

 

Spare me this time from the torture of love

Being just a stretch away

The past week I’ve been indulging with my family. A week long holiday followed by evenings spent in movie theatres has become the routine. Well, holidays are the time of indulgence because one has pretty much nothing else to do.

 

Every time I’m outside the periphery of my house I’m onto observing people (and assessing them quite critically!). It’s amazing how much you can decipher of a stranger merely by his conduct in public. There are those ‘won’t catch my eye more than once’ kinds and then there are the more engaging ones. Young girls in their lacy frocks ready to cling onto a teddy bear, young boys looking up at adults willing on to take on the world, women with men holding their hands, men holding hands eyeing you because you’re a girl… the list is endless.

 

I see a gang of girls who can’t stop chattering and giggling and I can’t stop wondering where they get all that enthusiasm from, I see a family complete with mum and dad and kids dining away to glory… I pretty much see the world. And I know with all its complications and ‘oh-my-gods’ life is extremely simple and plain. No matter how great you are or how down trodden you are still matter of the same kind.

 

So now every time I see someone worth assessing I’m planning to pen down something about that person. Lord save you from my radar!