What's inside matters. Yes, it does.
Chiseled in times, ravaged by war, a witness to the independence movement and surviving amidst troubled celebration.
The monument stands and shines, devoid of percussion, beneath and over.
Sans you, sans me. What is left of is platelets of the past and some enormous little moments.
2017 was a roller coaster year. Well, I can call it adventurous and tumultuous in the same breath. Yes, you might argue that these expressions don’t quite sit adjacent to each other. But at times, our derivatives stand flawed and undisputed.
Strange are the ways of life, so was 2017.
Indulgent, attractive, celebrated.
Sometimes, we feel excited about things that didn’t work. Perhaps, time is the major player here. We smile when it smiles. But in life, at some point, we all smile. Not really when we want, we don’t get to decide everything in our life, every time. As much as I am a great believer in myself and am self obsessed, I cannot ignore the subtle variations of destiny in my interesting life. I guess, there lies the beauty. And all the joy, apprehensions and agony that supplements the turmoil of the journey, so famously called ‘Life’.
But, all said and dusted, 2018 could be the year of my life. Instincts, gut feeling, not sure what it is. But the feeling remains undisputed. And, I am looking forward to it with exuberance and hope. Hope is good, fear is not. But apprehension, yes. I guess, that’s why 2018 is going to be a massive year of glorious uncertainties.
Keep aside my life for sometime now, 2017 was yet another year with lots of everything – emotions, achievements, disappointments, celebrations.
For each of you, let’s achieve what we always wanted to.
Let’s do what we enjoy the most in our decorated lives. Let’s create the space we always wanted in our lives. If you don’t like something, say it. If you want a change, now is the time to take first baby steps. Respect people but don’t take shit from anyone, especially if you don’t deserve it. Value relationships but make sure the relationship is two fold and devoid of oscillating benefits.
Phew! I know. Words of wisdom for few, Gyan for many and just rustic, frivolous words for those who don’t find a meaning in web of words and spoken partitions.
Let’s take a look at some pulsating pictures that defined my 2017, in more ways than it so appears.
2018, come and you will realize that you are already falling in love with me.
Call girls. Prostitutes. Nymphs. Even worse, sluts and whores. Even an elite bitch works like magic.
Doesn’t matter how derogatory and pervert these words are, whether you like it or not, these words have a life of their own. And precariously, they live amongst civilians like us, living a nomadic journey of sleuth and ignominy. We despise them, yet we want them. It’s a dynasty of ruthless victims and jeopardised lives.
If they are animals, we are of a worst kind.
Prostitution is an industry in itself. An industry that traces its roots back to 200 years (perhaps older taking in to account, the frivolous and lustful nature of the human clan). Despite all the taboo attached to it, it still manages to thrive big and remain pioneers in a money spinning game of lethal flesh and enduring politics.
Coming back to the lives of women who have embraced prostitution as a way of life.
Real time, on the ground.
To begin with, let’s clear the air about this profoundly disgusting profession. It has nothing to do with pleasure, love or the art of lovemaking. In fact, it is devoid of human emotions and chemistry. All it is, is a game of flesh and bones. The woman is just devoured and used, spit and discarded once the capacity to inflict pain diminishes. All in all and significantly put, it is rape with consent.
As I mentioned earlier, here the protagonists are equally hapless and displaced. One craves for the other, for obvious and inexplicable reasons.
It is also a glorious example of the position of women they hold in a society and culture that has been an epitome of mercurial savages with a penchant for vegetable terrain.
Prostitution is an industry manufactured and designed to integrate the turmoil of system. Men need respite, women are used to get crucified and system needs a bait to bask in return on investments. A system relegated to a wicked and inevitable ploy supplemented by an equally disdainful history.
The families of such women are equally guilty. We have families around this world who struggle to make ends meet and the money their women make from this distasteful profession is a welcome boon. But, they equally despise them for what they do and the women are subjected to unsurmountable pain and hatred, which is grossly unfair. They want the cash but they don’t the profession to taint their lives which in itself is the sole reason for their survival. Pretentious, to say the least.
Despite leading a bereaved life of pain and humiliation, this clan continues to grow unapologetically. Redundancy, for one, is not a forte in this world woven with ruthless anguish.
It was humid, sweaty and hot. It led us to the place of perennial relief. Our ‘Massive Friendly Neighboring Beach’!
It was dark but we could see the lights shoving up whine the earthly clouds. Clouds did not have enough water, but the sea did.
Sunshine eluded us but we could walk on the sand and feel it as well. Without too many people and usual chatter around, we felt breathtakingly serene.
The long drive wasn’t essential but we made it necessary. The destination was a delight to look forward then.
More often, let’s do this.
Day or night, the sun never goes down.
It wallops, it gallops, it eats your head, it vibrates. But never goes down.
Glittering waters or the artistry of the clouds. Deep meanders or open flings. It ain’t going down.
Sun never goes down. Hope never goes down. We are hope.
A tired evening. Lousy attitude. Relaxed and bent over for some real hot and good tea. Behind the nets, it was me at my terrible best.
Wait, I am coming.
