Tag Archives: Anger

The Music Of An Ex

Your voice still terrifies me. If anger were energy, you’re a nuclear reactor. But I only saw the gravity, I only heard the pain, I only felt your fear. And inside your head, for you, I became everything I could see. No wonder you hate me.

Now, every now and then, I listen to you, I watch you from afar. And what’s visible now is enough to scare me away. The trouble is memory is so weak at repelling. The minute I’m beyond the bounds of remembering, I come back to listen, to hear, to watch and to fear.

You wear the face of the unfamiliar, the strange, the uncomfortable. But your anger is known, like a well-remembered accident, a bone that never really healed and aches up every time it rains. It’s only ever raining when I think of you.

The scars on my arms have healed. And the lines on my face turned to pretty poetry, gritty poetry. But in the murky whirlpool of emotion, you still linger. How do you paper plane music? Because, yes, you were right, it is music.

Anger Is A Dish Best Never Served

Scrambled Eggs

Image by foodiesathome.com via Flickr

A bad mood can make even the tastiest dish seem unpalatable. Or maybe that’s just the extra salt I put into the scrambled eggs, because I was preoccupied. A good breakfast was ruined, either way.

Looking For Peace

I sat on the grass for a long time. It felt like it, as I breathed every second that passed. The grass felt comfortable under my butt and thighs. Like a carpet? No, I’m a Mumbai girl, I’m not used to carpets. The park is full of little mounds and grassy gradations and the contours of this patch of land fit comfortably under my legs. I don’t remember the last time I tasted comfort like this.

I was facing the jogging track and people walked by me, heads angled in front, not a glance here or there, focused on building up their heart rate and burning their calories. It was odd to be ignored quite like that. How have I not noticed it earlier? Maybe because I’ve been one of them. Truly, we city people miss the lovely things right before our eyes as we chase after other things.

How often I myself have pounded down this same track, my feet keeping up with my thoughts, an Ipod plugged into my ears or a phone conversation happening in parallel. I’ve been running away from things that are too much bear, rushing through conversations that must be had. And that’s exactly what I see written on all the faces that whip past me on the track today. I hope they find their peace. I really hope. It’s all around, abundant and just waiting to be experienced.

Last month I carried anger and indignation inside me, frothing like a bottle of coca-cola in the backseat of a car that’s zoomed down one of Mumbai’s roads. It rose inside me, threatening to burst forth from my lips and eyes any minute. Any damn minute right now. And I struggled to contain it, to settle it. My best friend had thrown a tantrum when I spoke up for the first time in 15yrs. Another friend had spoken up for the first time in 12yrs and burst forth with things that had little to do with the occasion. The irony of the two events happening in the same week was not lost on me. While I labeled the first one a tantrum, I called the second one an excessive and uncalled for response. I was torn between the two and my anger at the end of it was the stress I felt torn between the two diverse roles I played in these events.

Then there was the person who wanted me to work for him for free. Worst of all was his condescending attitude, an impression of ‘You’re not working so let me give you something worthwhile to do’, an air of doing me a favour by letting me do his work. I wanted to toss it all in this face and flounce out angrily but of course I didn’t. Seething, seething, seething.

Then, an ex- told me that I was just the same as ever, everlastingly full of angst. But he laughed as he said it, just as he always has. And I realized even if he were right, it didn’t matter anymore. I am just myself that’s all.

And A jauntily told me that it was a good thing to replace one’s friends. Relationships outgrew their purpose too and permanence was overrated, he said. There’s some solace to be drawn from that. Can I then let go of all the shackles that hold me back without fear? We hold the keys to our own handcuffs and we hold it with tight, fierce desperation.

It’s time to breathe. A deeeeeeeep breath. And let go.

Yesterday the temple was crowded, as it always is on Saturdays. I found a relatively empty spot and sat down to collect my thoughts. Ten minutes later, when I was walking down the road, a young man passed by and said something. I unplugged my earphones and stared back. He said,

When you were doing your puja, you looked very peaceful and serene. It felt good to see that.

And he walked away. Peace, happiness, contentment, so elusive. I think I’ll stop trying to figure out how to get them and keep them. I’ll just stay in them when they do occur.

You Aren't Being My Friend

To my friends in so many places,

I’m upset. Badly so.

I’m not okay with your calling me only when you have problems in your love life. I’m struck even worse by the fact that you have no time to hear about my love life problems or worse, that you don’t even think that’s a problem.

I can deal with unanswered calls; honestly I can understand a busy life. But I can’t deal with unreturned calls and unanswered SMSes. And these things have time restrictions. How would you feel if you knew the only way to reach me was to contact me at least 6 hours in advance since I’d never call you back before that?

I’m so not okay with being kept waiting. 10-15 minutes are non-issues, longer and I’ll wait if you let me know. An hour and over with no indication is staggering. Work, traffic, family restrictions, mood swings, loss of watch, deep conversations and boyfriends/girlfriends may sound like good reasons to be late. I’d like to think I’m an equally good reason for you to be on time.

If you don’t care for that, it tells me you don’t think my time is of any value. It tells me you don’t give a damn about my feelings since you invalidate how upset I am at the end of it. It tells me that I’m nothing more than someone you feel you can snap your fingers at, when you like. Never going to be okay with that.

I can take the initiative. That’s not because it ‘comes naturally’ to me, it’s because you matter enough for me to make that effort. When you don’t bother with making an effort, it tells me you aren’t bothered about me. I’m your friend, not your party planner.

And finally, I know we live with increasing demands on our time and no one’s found a way to make the day last longer than 24 hours. Just remember, that I live in that space too. The same city, the same lifestyle, the same profession, the same kind of family, the same kind of relationship. If I can make time for you, I expect you to make time for me.

I’ve swallowed all of the above as well as my pride, your excuses and an increasing feeling that none of you cares for me. One of you has told me that everyone is so busy with their own lives, that they tend to overlook other people’s feelings and that ‘it’s not that they don’t care’. I disagree.

Caring isn’t the absence of negative feeling.
It is an active sentiment that is backed up with actions.

Perhaps I have no room in the busy space in your mind. But that means you shouldn’t enjoy the same position in my mind. If you love having me around for how I always listen to you and stand by you, you need to remember that I have the same needs and you’re honour-bound to care for me as well. If you expect me to be sorry for bringing this down to a ratio, I’ll say you should be sorry that you haven’t been able to make me feel cared for.

I’m posting this here because this is the only way I have to get through what I need to say. If you suspect that I’m talking about you, you’re probably right. If you don’t know me at all, please don’t offer advice or consolation.

Trust, Actually

If I’m a fool to trust you, what does that say about you?


Nobody’s born suspicious. We trust because we think other people are the way we are. Then someone hurts us and we think everyone else is that way.

Treat every suspicious person you meet, gently. Maybe they’ve been hurt really bad.


What have you ever lost that is so precious that it cannot be found again or replaced? Life, is the only thing that meets that description. If you’re still breathing, then everything else can be found again.


Trust isn’t the blind faith that things will never go wrong. It is the belief that nothing will ever be so bad that it can’t be gotten over or out of.


Trust is not thinking you’ll never hurt me. It’s believing that you’ll not willingly want to.


Trust isn’t relying on those who’ve never sinned. It’s relying on the premise that there is always the possibility of redemption.


And finally, trust in everyone and everything else is built firmly on a foundation of trust in self. Nothing that really matters can be taken away from me.

Killing Romance

Romance is dead, this is true.

Romance is just a myth foisted on the world by men to keep women chained to their stupidity.

Which is why I think romance and its sorry butt can get kicked, strangled, have acid poured down its eyeballs, buried barely breathing and have its grave danced upon.

Instead I’ll just switch off my phone that’s too expensive to smash against the wall, eat a melting brownie too sinful to be wasted and walk out on an emotion too disempowering to be chained to.

Sometimes you just need to be sad

I shut down Behind Cobwebs over a year back. I miss it today. I shut it because I thought I was getting to be too negative and that just having a place to put it was encouraging even more negativity.

Today, with nearly three times more visibility and so much more cheeriness that I’ve dredged up from the bottom of my barrel, I miss it. I miss the safe darkness so much I want to scream.


Six people have gotten in touch today to ask me where I am, how I’m doing and if I’m angry with them. I don’t know what to say. I haven’t been myself lately. It feels like I haven’t even been inside my own body, my own mind lately. And my soul has gone missing.


Years ago, someone told me, someone who isn’t a part of my life anymore and I never speak of him but I haven’t forgotten – told me,

Sometimes, you just want to feel sad. And then you need to be able to feel it. Not cheered out of it. Sometimes you just got to be sad.

I was reading a post about a happy girl two minutes ago and suddenly I was crying. Almost, the tears didn’t fall but they rose right to the very top and fogged my eyes. I used to be that girl…I think…I thought.


I am so tired, bone-weary and exhausted after a really nice weekend.

I’m angry, so wrathfully so, at some people and I don’t know how to find my way back into forgiveness.

I need someone to hold me and tell me it’s okay to cry.


Yes, I published and then immediately privatized (!) this post yesterday. And yet, enough of people caught it. I’ve replied to most of them but would the Anon who dropped me a note please look in this direction? This is the person who left no address behind but wrote the following:

I have been reading your blogs for a long time — And have enjoyed reading them.
I was concerned when I read “Sometimes you just need to be sad” — Do you often have mood swings? Or bouts of anger?

To which I reply, yes my dear child/friend/reader/stranger, I’m moody, I’m volatile, I’m irrational, I’m harsh, I’m bitchy. Family and friends are sometimes scared to tell me things because I’m perfectly capable of picking up a chair and hurling it out of the window. And equally capable of sitting them down, patting their arm and asking them to lay it all on their good ol’ buddy. Sometimes I care, sometimes I don’t and often even I can’t tell when one stops and the other begins. I often find myself unable to express what’s going on inside my head and all this ranting/poetry/fiction/posts are but a pathetic echo of what I experience.

I doubt you’re really interested in all this but it’s possible that that’s just my cynicism talking. Perhaps you’re someone I know and have burned my bridges with a long time ago,  but you’ve still stopped to ask me how I’m feeling. Maybe you are a total stranger.

Whichever you are, whoever you, all I can say is – Thank you.

Forgiveness, Actually

Yes, there’s more.


Do banished memories go to hell? I hope not, ‘cos I’ll only end up meeting them there again. Besides they deserve better, so much better than the  darkness in my mind.


A friend who hurts you
….is the one most likely to come back and apologize
….is the one that deserves forgiveness the least.


If intimacy is what happens when love and hate collide,
Then seperation is when they lie together in the same bed…or grave.


I would hold onto any scrap of you that I can get,
Even if it is only a painful memory.


I would make sure the memory of me never fades in your mind
Even if it means having to leave only a memory of me behind with you.


Love means never having to say you’re sorry.

I take that to mean, the situation of being sorry never arises. After all, what else is love but taking the other person’s happiness as one’s personal responsibility? Even if that’s impossible, so is love.


Forgiveness is admitting the humaness of the other person
And divinity in oneself.For

I think I can live with being just human.


Forgiveness is for the world at large, a fair exchange for our own peace of mind. But anyone who is special enough to love, is special enough to never be forgiven.

Don’t go to bed with ANGER

Someone tell me what this means. I get such bizzarre fortunes/horoscope predictions…and then people say I’m weird.


In the immortal words of someone who found me in their bed,

What eet eez???!!!

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