A Rather Long Monologue But It’s Poetic
A monologue because is love ever anything else? If we’re lucky both faces of love are modeled for us in clear, unambiguous ways.
Commentary on current social affairs. Intersectional feminism examining questions of gender, sex, sexuality, caste, class, race, religion & other discriminators.
A monologue because is love ever anything else? If we’re lucky both faces of love are modeled for us in clear, unambiguous ways.
Flirting feels like a party I wasn’t invited to. A concert playing all around me & everyone’s vibing, except me.
Our political beliefs come from deeply ingrained personal affections, loyalties and yes, traumas.
His voice holds me. His words unravel me. And the trouble is the unraveling, the undoing, the blurring continue long after the voice has gone silent, the line cold. Because words, they linger. Burning flesh wounds inside defenses. And everything else feels harder, sharper, steelier. I am in a world…
Activists with sincerity on their tongues, burning eyes & tearful hearts. They set mine afire. I register the call of their wild cries, in the pounding in my ears. Eloquent speakers do the same. They tease out the primal me.
A friend’s admission about being shamed made me think. All shaming is bullying. What does it mean to be shameless?
Maybe the only reality is an awkward feminist. We are fighting patriarchy and also those who weaponise feminism to wage war on each other.
I wrote to all the guys who list ‘long drives’ as what they like on dating apps
Healing is messy. So is art. So is living. With lots of love to @senseslenses and @shaunakde for helping make my life & healing, art. My journey in watercolours.
Bombay Begums follows a formula of casting, tropes & production values. But it brings up some interesting questions.