rant – My Spirals

A tale of the five senses.

Sight:
She was walking down one of the oldest and most crowded streets of the town. Men in turbans, or vests, or filthy t-shirts sat on stalls. Women sat on the ground beside the stalls and spoke sweet nothings to their sons in shorts or daughters in t-shirts too big for them. The men tried desperately to sell things to the people who walked past the stalls with indifference. The kids giggled and ran along the sides of the roads, and she saw all of this right before he blindfolded her.

Sound:
The bustle of the town slowly faded and became a distant buzz. Every step she was made to take now made a sound against something hard, probably wood. The man who had blind-folded her yelled directions now and then groaned as he walked behind her. He sounded like he dreaded his job, and he most probably did because he whined with every step. She could hear twigs breaking beneath her legs and birds chirping around her. The crows cawed loudly because they could sense her danger.

Taste:
For a long time, her mouth tasted like strawberries because that was the last thing she had eaten before the man had forcefully taken her into his car. After driving for an hour since then, they had parked somewhere near the outskirts of the city, on a very crowded road. When he blind-folded her, everything went dark and she could taste the strawberries again as her mouth dried up. Now as she was walked with the man, her tongue was dried up and she could barely speak. But she kept trying and started screaming after a long time. The man used a piece of cloth to gag her, and she could taste the cloth in her mouth.

Smell:
The first time she entered into what probably was a house (as she had heard the door shut), her nose tried to block the awful smell in the air. The man nudged her forward as she tripped with every step she took on the stairs. The smell seemed to be a mixture of dead rats and rotten wood. There was also a nauseating smell of paint that, she guessed, had been used for hiding the wood. The smell of the paint on the wood reminded her of how humans wear masks and play pretend even when they’re old.

Touch:
The man pushed her onto a bed and she hit her head onto the edge. She lost consciousness for a while, and when she came back to her senses, there were two distinct voices in the room. One was coming from very close, so she guessed he was sitting by her side. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her inner thigh and she tried to scream but the cloth just hurt her skin as the man removed her blindfold. Both of the men have evil smiles on their faces and the one sitting closest to her moved his hand higher up her thigh. Every time his fingers touched a new part of her body, she cried and died a little inside.

Instagram handle: myspirals
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Why should I man up?

“Man up”
She said.
And so I put down the picture of my dead mother,
stopped crying, trembling, shaking
and smiled.
My eyes were still wet,
And all I could think about was if she had really just asked me,
to man up?
“Boys don’t cry.”
Of course they do.
We have our heart broken,
We have our trust burnt in flames,
And we live every day just like you do.
We cry.
“Don’t be such a pussy”
If protecting innocent kids from being bullied,
Talking to a girl when she feels low,
Not passing mean comments with my friends,
And actually liking a girl
Is being a pussy,
Then I will be one.
“Boys will be boys”
Not all of us will break your hearts,
Haven’t you ever spoken to the shy one?
We respect you,
I respect you.
Not all of us will break your trust,
or text you just to flirt.
We need friends too.

Had she really asked me to man up?

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Inside my head.

What do I think about? Is it love or my family?
Or is it a wonder trip and all-nighters?

I think of rainbow unicorns,
with soft wavy hair like my mother used to have,
and a horn that sharpens as a spiral,
much like my thoughts.
It has eyes like me father’s,
and crooked teeth that remind me,
of my sister.
It’s my family unicorn and it gallops in the sky.
I love them.
It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful.
Also ironically, real.

I think of Christmas trees,
with a line of golden bells and colorful things
that hold within them,
stories of smiles and tears.
It is green and smells like a new day,
and looks exactly like what I drew it to be,
back in second grade.
I am a pirate and it’s my treasure box.
I love my memories.
It’s not perfect, but it has a star.
Also ironically, the star is from the sky.

I think of hearts on the corner of folded pages,
with red sketched inside of it,
a red that reminds me of my girlfriends stubbornness,
and how she blushes.
The paper is creased but the heart is still complete,
and it reminds me of a very old,
romanticized war.
It is my life’s ‘profile picture’ and I’ve liked it myself.
I love sketching.
It’s not artistic, but it is elegant.
Also ironically, three dimensional and inside my body.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post : The war has ended.
Related post : Palettes of life.

The one with women.

The number in the first two statistics are true and have been taken from here and here. This is here to spread awareness, and not to degrade or leave out men. Smile everyone! Also, leave a comment telling about what problems any one of you have faced.

One in every six women has been sexually assaulted,
and accused of “asking for it”,
or facing it because men,
(being the beasts that they can sometimes be),
cannot control their desires and should not be blamed for it.

One in every four women has been denied opportunities,
of climbing the gold-coated staircase.
The staircase of power and creative possibilities,
has been reserved for men,
(and at times women who agree to sleep with them).

One in every two women has a horror story,
to tell that will send shivers up your very existence,
for the story monsters are human beings
with pride horns and intentions like a sharp crooked teeth,
and darkness that doesn’t go away with a switch.

One in every one woman has given her all,
so that mankind can be kind,
and the world can be truly called a beautiful place.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

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Family.

So every once in a while, I write something about my life in order to tell you what makes me an infinity, and to hear about what makes you an infinity. Tell me about your family!

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” – Lilo and Stich

When god made man, or whosoever did, the man asked for someone who’d always be on his side. That’s when god (or whosoever) made more men and women, and called it a family. My family is a little bizarre, as probably all of ours are. Some of my best memories with my father, my mother and my sister are these. Here is a small and brief glimpse into my family.

It was a summer morning, about two months after I had given my Tenth grade finals. My results were up on the internet at about four in the morning, and I was sweating rivers as I checked. My result was pretty good, and so I let out a sigh of relief as I slowly went to my parents room to tell them the result. My dad was still asleep, and so I gently woke him up and told him that the results were here. He was still lying on the bed as he waited for me to tell him my score. When I did, he sat up and gave me one of the tightest and warmest hugs ever as he smiled.
When you’ve lived with your mother was long enough, you’ll actually see everything falling apart if she goes away for a few days. Me, my sister and my father did. My mom had gone for a week to her parents place, and we caused chaos. We had oats and cornflakes for three consecutive meals almost every day. No school, so we made sure the house was a mess. When she did come back, it was the best thing ever. It was as if you’d come out of the water of the swimming pool after a long game of “Let’s see who can hold their breath for the longest.” It was like finding the name of the song that had you worried sick because you couldn’t remember the name.
From hiding test papers, to walking down paths covered in broken twigs, golden leaves and possible dangers, my sister has been my partner-in-crime. I don’t have one favorite memory with her because I’ve been with her for almost eighteen years now and every day with her is still special. Here’s one though. When I was really young and hardly knew how to swim, me and my family went for swimming. Despite being on the shallow side of the pool, I lost my footing and thought I was drowning. My sister, who happened to see this, was laughing at me instead of helping me. That bitch.

You don’t get to choose your family, but I am glad to have the family that I have. Maybe someday I’ll talk about how crazy they are. Until then.

Bless this family. ∞
Adieu.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

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