Your Average Narcissist

Hello, humans.

Lost in translation

To no one in particular; a tale of regret and lost love followed. 

When you’re with someone that makes your heart race, just by being in such proximity, and when both of you are sitting beside each other, talking about random stuff, maybe holding hands and then something just clicks, something sparks and you move just a fraction closer, aware of your breathing, aware of hers, you turn to find her looking at you, just as you are looking at her, with uncovered longing in your eyes and you both lean in, and you tilt your head just that little bit so that your noses don’t touch. Hesitantly nudging your head forward, you meet her lips with yours and you kiss, you close your eyes and part you lips just a little and your tongues meet and you keep pushing and she pushes back and you kiss, you kiss until you can’t breathe and you kiss a little more and break only to stare into her eyes with so much love that a single kiss could never show.



An Open Letter to Indian Men

To Y, a constant source of support and the inspiration for this piece, and to all the women in my life who’ve been mistreated.

Dear boys,

You don’t own her. Yes you, you sexist brute, you don’t own your girlfriend/wife/friend. You aren’t entitled to take decisions for them, neither are you to interfere in the ones they take.

In a country that boasts of billions of people, a skewered gender ratio and oppressed women, does it really surprise me, this attitude? Yes and no. It surprises me because this is the 21st century, it surprises me that sections of our nation can be light years ahead of the others. It surprises me that Indian men can feel so entitled to the woman they wed. It surprises me that Indian men can be such hypocrites; that they wholly support the idea of a live in relationship, but balk at the idea that their bride isn’t a virgin. And sometimes, it doesn’t surprise me because this is how we’ve been brought up, in a deeply patriarchal society that only cares about who has the bigger package (pun unintended). I write this, not with shock or suprise but out of heartfelt pain that a nation that once had women leading battles now has them fighting battles just to live.

I write this, not to offend but to ask, ask that my friends and my sisters not face the same fate. To ask that every woman be treated with the respect they deserve.

A feminist male.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”


To M, for having the courage to be true to yourself and helping me do so too. 

Science doesn’t like anomalies. It tries to explain them away, to make research more concrete, easily digestible. Society is no different – they hate the ones that stand, the ones that can’t be shepherded into line, the ones that don’t want to fall into a rut. Such “anomalies” are pushed down, asked to knuckle under and do what everyone else does, they are constantly judged – for being who they are. I am an anomaly. I am different. In fact, each one of us are entirely different from one another, those of you who refuse to accept this are the ones that have tried to explain away people like me, as raving lunatics, as non-believers, as unmanly, as unwomanly, as rebels, as whatever the next generation chooses to term us. Well, we don’t care. Because, the thing about adversity is that it pushes like minded people together. And all us of “anomalies” have found each other, and we stand together. Not against society, but for each other. 

This one is for all of you out there who have been judged by the people around you. And for those of you who have done the judging, all I can say is what goes around comes around. 


To my future self, for the times when you lose sight of your reality. 

Realisation can be very powerful, a lot more powerful than hearsay. Once you’ve crossed that point, there is no going back, no matter how hard you try.

Reading is an emotional experience, much like the one I just had. What I’ve been through in 500 pages, even 500 days wouldn’t have taught me. Reality came crashing down on me, ironically enough from a work of fiction. I read and I realised. All my life, I’ve been in pursuit of the trivial. I’ve prioritised meaningless, materialistic fantasises over what has been right in front of me. I’m running behind pipe dreams, ignoring the reality that is going to settle in, eventually. 

The rosy image of life that we all have in our head, is rarely what it turns out be and that is what screws us. Imagined outcomes, perceived slights, hopeful expectations, what not? We lead life day in and day out, never questioning our motives, never for a second doubting, is this all really for the better? Maybe we should. Maybe then, we might realise what really matters and what matters is worth everything. 

“But, who could bear to know which stars were already dead; could anybody stand to know that they all were?” – J.K. Rowling 


​To A, for setting things right. Every single time. 

Also to all of the people who have taken advantage of me over the years, this is for you. 

We were friends once upon a time, at least in my mind. I poured my heart out to you, in the hopes that you would do too. Instead you ridiculed me, you turned on me, and used my love as leverage. At first, I broke down. I couldn’t believe that being nice would have such devastating effect, and then I realised that maybe it wasn’t being nice that was the problem and yet I kept getting betrayed. Over and over again, placing my trust in the wrong people. Thank you, because it’s you people who have made me stronger. Betrayal has become commonplace now. I look at it merely as a random occurrence in the larger scheme of things. I haven’t become unfeeling, no. I still care for people, sometimes the right ones, sometimes the wrong ones. Because if everyone stopped caring, what would be the point in going on? And no matter what happens, I will still care. Because, even if 99/100 screw me over. There will still be that one person who can set everything right. And for that one person, I will wear my heart on my sleeve. 


To B, for taking my breath away. 

I glance at you

From the corner of my eyes 

Afraid that 

If I looked too close 

I wouldn’t be able 

To look away 

I glance at you 

Taking in more and more 

With every furtive glance 

Till my heart can take no more 

I glance at you 

Hoping that one day 

These glances could 

Be yours 

I glance at you 

Knowing that that day 

Will never arrive 

Knowing that 

These glances are all that I have


To R. A poem for you, a post for me.

She reads books as one would breathe air
To fill up and live
Little did she know
Every book she inhaled
Remained forever entwined
In her lungs
A library that was in awe
Of its curator.

Happy Mother’s Day

To my Mom, who helped me discover books and made me the person I am today

I wish I had a pensive
So I could see my memories
To find
My first memory of you
Little did I know
Your memories
They couldn’t have a beginning
Because you were always there
Just like your love for me
And mine for you
Could have no beginning
Or no end.

V-Day #2

Happy Valentine’s Day

Have you ever felt an overpowering surge to kill someone? A rush of raw hate, blood pounding in your head, fists clenched, just unexplained emotion? If you haven’t, you haven’t lived. Just as darkness makes us appreciate light, hate makes us appreciate love. Go. Hate. Love. Live.

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