Photograph courtesy my son Shubhang Dogra
Don’t give up the fight. Life is Your Right
RECOGNIZE your inner strength, BELIEVE in yourself, Be Ready to SHED what is not YOU, if you feel you are being caged ESCAPE from the tiniest crack you find, FIGHT for your Dignity and Worth.
Be True to self, Be selfish Love Yourself First, Break Away, Cut the cord that strangles you. Bend the Rules.
Never let anyone write your story. Never hand over the pen to them.
Never feel guilty of doing what your heart feel right. Never complain. Never explain.
There are no excuses to let yourself be treated like shit.
Never compromise yourself .
Never be bullied into silence. Don’t be a victim.
Never lose your true self under the deluge of masks society offers you to wear.
Society has never been kind to women who stand up and speak their mind, make your choice. Be free or be damned.
Freedom to be oneself comes with a price , sometimes a huge one, Pay the Price or let others pay the price of trying to cage your spirit.
Nothing is more important than your dignity.
HAVE COURAGE to Chat Your Path. Never resign to your fate.
Stand alone, it better than being lost in a crowd.
Never submit to the will of others.
Walk out of relationships that smother You. Dare to break away. Be at loggerhead with the society. It is not a cakewalk but it is worth every moment. Subjugated life is devoid of any soul.
Have the moral courage to Defy what in Unjust. Don’t be a performer.
Never let your bodies to be outraged. Never let yourself become an object.
Draw a line and stop the “little adjustment” from becoming a big compromise. If it takes the monstrous shape it just engulfs before you know it.
Don’t wait for change to happen. Make your move. It is never too late.
Stop living in your fears.
Think for yourself, never go in with conformity and herd mentality.
Recognize Abuse , for it is often camouflaged as love, betterment, moral duty, guilt, emotional blackmail.
Speak up. Silence only helps it breed and dig its claws deeper into your being.
It is better to raise your voice against unjust than suffer and reinforce the fact that women can be used as old newspapers.
Be financially independent.
Be fearlessly yourself
Sometimes it takes more than just courage and will to do what is “right”. Look within and you will know your reason to do it.
Someone said to me , ” It is all there for you to get, the only thing is How badly you want it.” You can’t imagine how true it is. It gave direction to my life.
Courageous Risks are life giving – Take Risks
“My priorities are sorted out. I have moved on” , I said.
“Moved on ?” “True moving on is to bring the past to a closure. It is done and over “
“True that ” I said. “So be it.”
It was last year this date that I made the life changing decisions.
This year this day I am That I am and nothing else matters.
I am grateful to my friends, fellow bloggers, readers, and each person who believed in me and stood by me, some visible some invisible.
My boys are my strength and it fills me with tremendous pride and love for these young adults for understanding my decision despite of the physical distance it created. Thank you for being my children and for loving me for what I am.
We all have a spark within but to turn it into a flame one needs a breath of life – ♥ ﾚo√乇
There is nothing more gratifying than being oneself.
I want to offload. Offload all the clutter from my head. Offload the memories. Who wants to remember anyway? Spit, gargle, scrub, wash .. I did everything to clean the scars that my life got when it touched yours but the scars settled in the corridors full of memories won’t fade. They take monstrous shapes and explode inside my head. Isolated snippets that becomes larger than life , uglier, gruesome as they flash past inside my head like lightning. Wounds that cut themselves and come alive in flesh and blood only to drag me down the past I want to run away from. There is no healing with memories lurking inside oneself. They appear out of nothing, damage and vanish. Just like that.
What wouldn’t I give to forget these memories, wipe them off. I am tired of tossing and turning each night, I want to get back my sleep? I would give it all up even if it means losing the good memories from another time , another place , of some other people. Yes, I would, if it means I won’t have to remember all the crap that scalds my inner, which gags and chocks my heart.
With my life going the way it, the things I have known and those I come to know whether I want it or not, the images that I am unable to shake however I may try, the mental trauma and heartache that wears me out on daily basis, the words that resonate inside my head however I may try to shut them up, the good memories too are slowly turning rancid.
Actually there isn’t anything good about your memories to be frank. They are nothing but poison ivy clinging to my brain and sapping life out of me. In fact I shouldn’t have let you in. I pay the price with loss of face, faith and everything. I left the house that once I called home ( I wonder why coz it was never my home ) but the memories tagged along. I remember it all. Every bit of it. And that is the part I hate most. You encroached my space then and won’t let me have it now.
I want to gladly clear it all. Give up , the good, the bad, the ugly. Just don’t need no memories hangin’ round. What am I going to do with memories? Am done with sob story memoirs. I don’t wish to dig up the graves. Am done with all that. Am done with wanting to remember. Done with you. Please Leave. I do not need a fucking rotting fungal infested tumor of memories in my brain that is You.
I want my mind spot clean. I want space for new beginnings to flourish. I want peace. I do not want an inner tumult to wreak havoc in my outer world. I don’t want memories of old hurt, anger, loss, love anything influencing my judgement and making me read the signals incorrectly.
So you ask, what about “happy memories” ? Memories that warm you on winter nights and give you company in loneliness? The beautiful sunsets and the walks in pathless woods? Well, there is nothing happy about them, they hurt big time. These attention seeking narcissists. They bring a sense of loss, a void. Some people may have them, I am not denying that but for me , I can do without them. This cocktail of bitter-sweet nostalgia and pain. I don’t wish to go on vacillating between past and present with the noose of memories tightening on my neck. The events that were , were happy , full of warmth but as memories I can do without them. I will have many sunsets and many such walks in woods in present to fill the empty spaces.
I want to “die to the past” and ” live to the present”.
Maybe I will find a stability later sometime in life to not let mind take over but right now, Oh man! I need an escape route.
One need not be a chamber to be haunted;
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
~Emily Dickinson, “Time and Eternity”
I found you in the creases of my bed, in the mirror when I suddenly turned around and glanced at it, in silence of early morning and in the stillness of the night, in the rise and fall of my chest, in the warmth of water cascading down my aching shoulders, in my fingertips as they traced upon all that you wrote to me, in the webs between the fingers, in the heat nestled between the legs, in the vodka flavored ice cubes kissing my lips and dripping down my neck, in the salt of my tears, in the honey dripping from a hot crisp toast as it touched my mouth, in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, in the box of spices ( cinnamon and clove ), in the swirl of Bavarian chocolate ice cream as it melted on my tongue, in the jingle of the charms of my bracelet, in the kohl that lined my eyes, in the softness of lingerie that clinged to my body, in the changing colors of the sky, in the delicate ensemble of words, in the early morning drizzle, in the depth of the night sky, in tequila sunsets, in the shadows of dusk, in the tangerine mornings, in the droplets of water precariously clinging to my wet hair, in the blush that rises on my cheeks, in the base of my throat, in the half-open box of crayons, in the edge of the rose-tinted cloud, in the jingle of coins in my pocket, in the swaying sheer curtains, in the prayer flags fluttering in the summer breeze, in the smoothness of cocoa butter as it melted and morphed into the skin to become my body, in the soft moonlight that filtered through the bare branches of trees, in the paper boat merrily drifting , in the whistle of the steam engine as it turned around the corner, in a folder named “favorite” , in the music that linked us from across the miles, in the sensuous sweetness of your name when I whispered it in my sleep, in the verses of Neruda as I feasted on them tucked inside the comforter, in scent of cookies baking in the warm oven, in the bowlful of vodka flavored ice cubes and the lemon slice that floats in it, in the smile that struggled through the tears, in the changing shapes of raindrops on the cold glass windowpane, in the heat rising from the city roads, in the fiery magenta, pinks, oranges , whites and yellows of Bougainvillea draped over ancient walls and clinging to the naked trees, in the folds of my laughter and in the eyelids heavy with sleep, in the changing temperature of cold marble floor beneath my burning body, in the thirst that rose in my parched throat and in the subtle flavours of my life.
I can go on making a list , listing all those dark secret places where I found you , those mundane things that remind me of you like a baby sleeping peacefully in comfort of his mothers arms, his little head resting on her soft breast.
Now I want something Real, something truly your own to touch and smell and breathe and kiss day and night.
I want to find you in you and in me at the same time.
Also Read You and Me series here
Digital art on Photosh0p CS3 by me.
Read all the YOU AND ME posts here
I did some digital painting in Adobe Photoshop CS3 long ago and then somehow it took a backseat First Steps with Photoshop .
Life is getting settled now and the major part of the turbulence is over. Now that I am more composed and focused I decided to play with forms and colors again, to experiment with shapes and give a new horizon to my imagination. Here is the first lot of what I did in last few weeks. All the work here is copyrighted..© tikuli
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever touch you but with these words. Words that fill the infinite whiteness of the screen and emptiness of my life. In a technologically powered relationship, that’s all I have. Words, quickly tip- tapped on a keyboard. I try to give them soul, bring them to life. add flavor to them, try to see your zest and humor in them, the charm, the seductive laugh , the warmth that trickles down the spine and makes me forget that I have knees.
I try to feel the fits of kindness, your bouts of rage, the maddening rush inside you that electrifies each pore , each cell of your body when you type those words at an alarming pace, a pace quicker than your racing heartbeat, try to make them as intimate and sentimental as they can ever be. I turn them into thoughts and make love to them, smudge them with tears, trace my fingertips over the neatly arranged lines, feel you with my finger tips in them. I linger over each syllable and watch it pulsate with hunger or thirst. I feel my fingerprints merge with yours and feel your touch. I take a dip in them with you.
I get drunk on those words, wait for them to flash on the screen as text, IM, email, on FB, Messenger app. and let them have their way with me. The way it would have been with you. I take them to bed, fold them and tuck them inside my heart, and carry them where ever I go. What if one day we were suddenly removed from these modern gadgets of conveniences? These words will be all that we will have to hold on to.
Although words bridge the distance between us, I still yearn for a handwritten note from you, a picture I can hold in my hands and place upon my ravaged heart. That is till I have something better than words. Till we create a deeper play than words can. They will do till then, though they fall short for want of the exact emotion/feeling they should evoke at certain time. Keep writing to me so we can be together. Something that in reality only time will tell.
Let the words be personified into us. Let them conjure up the flesh for that’s what they are meant to do in your absence. Let them be your figures, your tongue, your damp body resting against mine. Let them sustain me in such times of hunger just as your voice does. Let them hand feed me the longings, the secrets, the desires that nothing else but your touch can do. Let me amble on the delicate assembly of vowels and give them your voice. Let us stay wrapped in the warmth of the wordrobe around our bodies. Let them lean over my shoulder and whisper what you have no courage to give sound to. Let them nibble at my earlobes and bite my mouth with hungered teeth. Let them slide into the folds of my body. Let them still my heart. Let them melt between my legs. Let them run through my hair as your fingers would and trail behind my ear down the nape of the neck and all the way to the small of my back.
Let us map the topography of our body, mind and soul through them. Patiently with love.
Maybe this burning patience will some day lead to splendid happiness, till then let words water our dreams.
Read all the YOU AND ME posts here
A Blogadda Tangy Tuesday Pick.