My Demons

I was 15, singing, writing poetry and being a normal teenager with the usual breach of authority. I was taking classes to pass Biology in class 9 when he joined. You know what they say about “Love at First sight!” Yes that’s what it was, for me at least. I was an introvert and tried to remain in the shadow of my peers because of something the experts call, ‘Inferiority Complex’. Now that I think about it almost 5 years later, I know I was so much better than them. Everyone talked and flirted behind the teacher’s back and I sat and stared at the “love of my life” as he took notes and made making friends look so easy. Then, he talked to me and every other sound just drowned somehow and my I had the never-felt-yet-heard-about feeling of time slowing down and things just not making sense.

He had beautiful eyes and a smile that made my insides turn in a good way and I fell deeper in love every Friday at 5:30 pm for the next 365 days of my life. At the end of class 10 I finally confessed because well, we were leaving class and never going back there and he said he loved me too. Had I just wasted 1 year, being close enough to touch him and not doing anything about it?
Absolutely!

The relationship was dreamy and like a fairytale in the first 2 years. I was in a bubble of happiness and bliss till all that changed the moment we entered college. I got into an all girls college and that’s when it started. He became aloof, not bothering to put effort to make me smile anymore. It was almost too generic for him I guess.

3 and a half years into the relationship and then the abuse started. “Did you see what his girlfriend gifted him on his birthday? She sketched Ronaldo’s portrait. Why can’t you make something nice for me?” I did. I made a hand made pop up card that opened into numerous small boxes with words that described my love for him. “This is what you call a gift? You shouldn’t call yourself a person who loves craft. Ugh!” I stayed quiet and wrote him a poem because let’s be honest, poems about love and longing never go out of style. “This is a load of crap. Do you even love me? Am I not worth a little more effort? Look what his girlfriend bought him… she baked him a batch of chocolate cookies. Why can’t you be more like her?” This kept mounting. “WHY CAN’T YOU SING LIKE HER? WHAT’S SO DIFFICULT ABOUT WRITING ME A GOOD LOVE POEM? DO YOU KNOW HIS GIRLFRIEND COOKS FOR HIM SOMETIMES ON HIS BIRTHDAY? WHY CAN’T YOU BE MORE LIKE THOSE GIRLS?” The abuse continued and I let it happen. I stayed shut because when the making up part came, he told me exactly what I wanted to hear so I stayed. I had opened up a lot and because less introverted ever since he and I had started dating. But constantly being reminded that I was not as good as the other girlfriends took a toll.

The inferiority complex came back and it hit hard. I started staying quieter than usual. I stopped writing poetry and singing altogether. I left my harmonium in a side of my room and it has stayed like that for 5 years, gathering dust. It’s been 2.5 years since he left me with crippling anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, low self esteem and eating disorders.

I was never hot enough or beautiful enough, slim enough or fair enough for him and after the humiliation came the making-it-up-to-me part which tore me down even more. I had gotten so used to being “not good enough” that my talents seemed to have faded into oblivion. I turned my face away to girls singing for their guys and stayed quiet. I refused to pick up my pen a jot something down. I was a mess. I was suffering from inferiority complex that made me believe that I would never be good enough for anyone ever.

Then the break up came and he did a 360° roundabout and said I put no efforts into writing something for him or making him a beautiful handmade token or sing Elvis Presley for him. Then he stayed quiet as his friends clawed at my self respect for anything that was left. “You have no originality! You are a waste of life. Why don’t you do something special for him? You will never be good enough for him or any man. Ever!”

That was the end of it. I wiped off my tears and walked away, wondering what I had wasted almost 6 years of my life for. My inferiority complex made me want to kill myself for lack of creativity till I met the man who appreciated the small things I did. The small poems, a love letter, a hand made gift for his birthday, everything is loved by him now and he tells me, “You are gorgeous, with a soft heart and an iron will and I wouldn’t expect anything less than excellence from you! You are a good singer, play the harmonium and you will realize it yourself. Write me a poem out of the love of your heart. Who cares what other girls do for their guys? I care about the little things that you do for me!” This has made a difference. I’m 20 now and I am writing for various pages, being a vocal artist and a content writer and the Public Relations Head for a YouTube channel and I couldn’t be happier.

The inferiority complex stays as long as you yourself hold on to it. When the people you never thought would hurt you or drift away from you actually use your complex as an excuse to not be around you or with you, it hurts bad. People around you are busy trying to being you down. There’s a warrior in everyone around you and creativity runs in your blood and the day we realize our true potential, nobody can tear us down.

Bloom Of The Okiya: A Tribute To Sayuri-San

Part 1:-

THE INNOCENT SUNFLOWER

A flower blooms on the banks of Yoroido,

A childish Buttercup in the time of Spring.

With the eyes of her mother, translucent and grey,

To her eyelids do thick eyelashes cling.

A Fisherman’s daughter she was,

Too pretty to smell just of the Sea.

As white as a Tsubaki flower,

As naive as a Lily.

Charming as Venus, sighs she drew,

The belle of Yoroido, her fame grew.

Sought by many, held by a chosen few,

She was the girl, Chiyo Sakamoto,

My innocent little Sunflower.

“Himawari No Muku.”

Nyx’s Poison

Equality, COME ALREADY WILL YA?

“Speeds her up, makes him last!”*, a phrase that generated online heat probably sounded to some as, *”Gives her too much importance and questions his masculinity!”. The new Durex advertisement takes a stand against women putting up with painful and unsatisfactory sex. This potentially ‘new’ concept that backs female sexual freedom as well as orgasm equality has been facing slack on Twitter that started trending with the phrase, #BoycottDurex when women came forward with their stories under #IFakedItToo. Social media was awash with jokes like, “Our population is way too high to #BoycottDurex. Men kindly don’t let your fragile ego come in between birth control.” Some men tagged PM Modi in their posts demanding that Durex apologize for, “Such an indecent advertisement that degrades the values of the Indian Society.”

Orgasm is still a highly tabooed topic in India where the Male vanity and ego is satisfied and enlarged with the “satisfied” screams of a woman, barely concerned about the physical pleasure of a woman or taking into account her climax. An advertisement that deals contextually as well as visually with mutual orgasms recieved rather mixed reviews from Durex’s Indian audience. Many came forward and supported the new product launched by Durex and took to Twitter with #DurexMutualClimax while the not- so- happy ones took to trolling Swara Bhaskar for her interview with Durex, supporting the importance of climax in women, orgasm equality and sex education. We can clearly see the gulf created in society due to toxic masculinity and ruthless patriarchy that clearly does not care about the enjoyment of intercourse by a woman and would rather show her as a “pure, pious lady who shall be idolized as the epitome of respect and reverence.” than actually treating her like a human with basic mental, emotional and physical needs. While the lack of sex education and blind faith in the rather non-flexible religious traditions and dogma is still a problem looming at large, toxic masculinity seems to be growing with every passing minute.

In a country where women are treated as nothing but objects of desire and gratification, “Mutual Climax” seems like a distant dream and men being ok with mutual climax, a utopian idea altogether. The patriarchal Indian Society is tucked away in a seemingly strong yet truly fragile cocoon of male ego where men wouldn’t be afraid to use social media platforms to lash out at anything and everything that supports women empowerment in any form possible.

Nightfall’s Gift

“She feels suffocated,
Her beauty feels like a curse.
Drowning in the deepest and darkest corners of her self made Hell,
Crossing paths with Hades himself,
Darkness envelopes her soul.
Her promise of a life, youth, love and family lie in shambles.
Shrouded in the mystery of Death,
Nightfall gives her the solace she yearns.
Beauty might be a curse.
His love wasn’t an antidote as she might have liked.
His poison killed her while Nightfall embraced her life, body, mind and soul.
“She feels suffocated,
Her beauty feels like a curse.
Drowning in the deepest and darkest corners of her self made Hell,
Crossing paths with Hades himself,
Darkness envelopes her soul.
Her promise of a life, youth, love and family lie in shambles.
Shrouded in the mystery of Death,
Nightfall gives her the solace she yearns.
Beauty might be a curse.
His love wasn’t an antidote as she might have liked.
His poison killed her while Nightfall embraced her life, body, mind and soul
Carrying a mask that falls off only at nights,
It’s rainy some and shiny the other nights.
I’m happy the whole day , yet a night reveals my true colours.
I maybe lost, but the night finds me each time.
I’m in pieces that I fix every late hour.
My heart beats still,
Missing his smell,
The very essence of ‘us’that should have been and the ‘I’ that was.
Nightfall shall be my friend,
The Darkness my soul.
Forever, since he left,
My heart shall remain closed.
I’m Like an exploding card, I would like you to open.
Get merged me in me like a river merges in Ocean.
Don’t be my Daylight honey, be my Nightfall.

-Nyx’s Poison ft. TheShatteredPieces

Consent? What does that mean?

“STOP!”,she says. “WHY? YOU ARE MY WIFE! I HAVE EVERY RIGHT OVER YOU!”,he says. So what is the the truest meaning of right? Proud ownership of one’s body and mind just because they ‘paid’ for it or the courage to say, “NO!” when you want to and be respected for your decision? Yes, Rape in Marriage is what I mean when I ask the true meaning of right, consent and control.

Welcome to a country called, ‘Incredible India’, where the incredible Book Of Laws completely rules out the very existence and occurrence of one of the most heinous crimes since it is shrouded by the translucent veil of seven steps around a holy fire that welcomes hell in the lives of most women. 54% cases of marital rape cases go unreported and the latest National Family Health Survey states that 83% of married women between the ages of 15 and 49 who have ever suffered sexual abuse cite their current husband as the perpetrator.

Abuse in marriage is brushed off under the carpets of pretended marital bliss while instances of marital rape are overlooked and the victims shushed, fearing social ostracism. Sex as a topic has been tabooed for so long that the satisfaction of a woman and her consent mean nothing to men who have been brought up with the knowledge of satisfying themselves literally ‘using’ their wives since they ‘paid’. These practices really need to change keeping in mind that the ‘Indian ethos’ is not disrupted and the ‘balance’ is maintained and yet revolution is brought.

The sooner we take steps to curb violence against women in marriage, the sooner we listen to muffled cries of women, married off to monsters, the better. The Indian Constitution needs change in favour of women with the clause of Rape In Marriage being Criminalized. Change is important, appropriate and the need of the hour. Marital Rape as a form of Rape needs to be brought out to the public front in all its raw and brutal truth.

The Siren’s Wail

The night shall fall,

And the stars shall not shine.

Tonight the Sirens wail,As Nyx claims,

This night is mine!”

Death shall dance in Hades’ halls,

As the shooting stars spit fire,Nyx shall dance too,

So shall her desires.

She dances with such passion and grace,

Swaying to the Music to Death.

Her diamonds and jewels shine through the darkness,

As the Muses look upon her with hushed breaths.

Her finery shimmers through the night,

Frolicking across the Hall of Death.

Hades himself stops to look,

At this specter of a lady with jewels, silk, gold and a crystal sharp stare.

Her beauty shines ,

Vivid and Blazing,

The Gods gaze upon her dress of pure Gold.

She goes about, without a thought,

Dancing to the Rhythm of Demise,

All stare at the dazzling Goddess of the Night,

Even the Time comes to a halt.

Under the dimming light of the Stars,

The Wails of the Sirens are heard from afar,

Her feet refuse to stop,

Her heart yearns for His touch.

She dances away in a drunken haze,

Deadly and Gorgeous all the same.

Forgetting her bloody feet,

She dances to the music of Death,

Trying to forget her Heart’s Strain.

Senseless she falls,Death looming above.

Her mind tells her to Survive,

While her heart writhes in Pain.

My Princess of the Night,She drops dead,

Pushing aside all magic becoming a Goddess.

She chooses Hades’ Kiss of Death.

The Sirens shall wail once again my love,

As the Princess becomes His Lady of the Night.

Nyx’s Poison (Palak Parmar)