The Sailor and the Sea Nymphet

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Looking outside, I do nothing but repent

 

One glance, one dreadful glance was enough for the voluptuous beauty. The walls crumbled down; Lord and Satan made love. Alas! The sudden affection couldn’t last long. Her turmoil made it impossible to forget him. In the tussle between the fleeting happiness of the future and the unforgivable past of emptiness, she sat still till she DIED.

MOTIVATION: All of a sudden, I had a few flashbacks as to what transpired these past few weeks, and this aided me in getting in touch with my vulnerable side.

andre_gennie

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IS THIS POSE RIGHT FOR ME?

I cannot think of any one person, who wouldn’t like to get out of their home and hand themselves over to the tempting morning dawn. On the other hand, in the summers like that of Delhi, a slight drizzle of rain is more of a cause of excitement than meeting the Wizard of Oz himself. So naturally, I had to get out of my house. The Sun wasn’t going to rise sooner than half an hour, when I put on my shorts and my shoes, and got myself out for a jog.

While I rhythmically moved my legs, the breeze turned into a strong gust of the wind and I was famished for more of that experience. I know that the tornadoes in my mind won’t stop spinning ever, but then the realization came to me quickly that these winds would certainly oppose them and continue to do so, till every atom in my abode cease to exist. With that, I continued running.

So my friend and I have this ritual, where we meet at a particular place and then gossip-cum-jog {but more of that gossip} about all the news which I’m sure, if published in a tabloid, would bring us hefty amount of rupee bills. It would have been a perfect day. I wouldn’t even have to write about this. But then again, it did happen, and I’m glad it did.

We were just arguing whether a Labrador was cuter than a pug, but we were stopped by a strange voice. We turned around and saw this man; he looked like a dad who just put his daughter in college; his voice a little heavy.

We stared at his façade, while he ran his eyes all over us, as if inspecting our anatomy. He turned to my humble friend and jokingly suggested that my motive to behave {the way I naturally do} was to make other people laugh. PERIOD!

Hearing him say so, shocked me, but to a much greater extent, amused me. Due to the realization that I had earlier, I wished to take a spontaneous yet radical step. I decided to challenge his as well as my limits.

I asked him to come a little bit closer and while he paid heed to my demand {I’ll, like to say an order}, revealed to him that I was a transgendered woman {no offense to any community, it wasn’t supposed to be funny, I just wanted to check if he had a good comeback}. At times, I do consider myself as a part of an elite group known as THE SADISTS, and that face, OH! What I wouldn’t give to see that for the rest of my life!

While I waited patiently for his reply, the expressions on the face of both my friend and the man changed. The expression on the man’s face changed drastically. His playful eyes drowned deep in anger with a little bit of confusion. His lips arched back to a straight line {which I’m glad did not show his pearly whites}. Though I wasn’t really concentrating on my peer, I did feel a hedonist taking over my body.

‘You know, you shouldn’t say these things to anybody. Let me talk to your parents. Why? How?’

‘Well, this is who I am and THIS is how it’s done.’

Chuckling, I gave an indication to my friend and we were back continuing to out tabloid talks. The whole time, we were at that place, I did look at him and found him staring directly over me.

Well, this incident, might seem as a concocted plot, but trust me it isn’t.

The reason, why I shared this certain incident is quite simple. We aren’t living in 17th or 18th century and even if we were, why do we have to hide? Is it really valid for them to punish us for being different from the masses and expressing who we actually are? Isn’t it better to be able to embrace self rather than pretending? I know that pretending might seem comforting, but on a long term, it really isn’t what you would want.

In India, whenever transgendered people are talked about, they are considered as an abomination. Even when we talk about pride in the LGBTQIA+ community, the transgendered pride is left out several times.

The last thing we need to understand is that it really is NOT unnatural or weird or any of those terms that would make you feel like an outsider or in any way makes you feel looked down upon.

THE  BOTTOM  LINE?

That is for you to decide, what your bottom line should be, or what message you want to propagate to the world and to your next generations. Like any object in this world, intellects, wisdom, philosophies, they too can be passed down and passed down along a series of generations, thus making them more prone to acceptance. Hence, it really is on your shoulders as to what hash tag you want to popularize in the coming years.

Calling My Pride

I sit there looking funny, supporting other funny people.

PRIDE

The word that is associated with LGBTQ.

What does pride mean to me?

What does pride mean to the other non-LGBTQ members?

Isn’t being a hippie or a punk or a member of a minority subculture demands a PRIDE?

When I look into a dictionary, the only definition that satisfies me and doesn’t play with my mind is that of having a sense of positive ego, a healthy sense of narcissism.

PRIDE deals with gender identities and sexuality and the difference between the supposedly normal world and the queer world. 

Why should everyone be indulged in PRIDE?

You can say you are unique. But you are not. You are just a brick in the wall and you will always be that brick. Even if you are a famous actor, a musician or a soccer player, you still fall within a subculture. You are still surrounded by the people, who do the same job as you.

The difference stems in the popularity of a subculture or a group.

If you are from the subculture whose residents comprise of famous singers, you are more prone to enjoy fame.

But, unfortunately {not really}, if you belong to a minority subculture, you are shunned down, looked down upon.

So, it becomes hard for us {yes, I am a writer of the tribe}, to live a normal life. And that is why; PRIDE is an essential and important way to protest, to interact, to show.

And that is what pride is about.

PRIDE shouldn’t be devoured by them. Instead, this must be a time of the year, where different minorities who have faced prejudice; who are constantly fighting for their pride; who have been still even sustaining the torrents of bullying and violence.

PRIDE is a celebration of different, awkward, queer and not particularly LGBTQ. Pride shouldn’t only be about them, but also about the ‘looked down upon’ subculture.

 A Letter: A Memoir of Desperation and Frustration

I used to be different. Now i am different.

Dear Well-Wisher; Care-taker; Friend

I HATE YOU.

Yes, you heard that right, I hate you. From the core of my heart, my soul, every living cell of my body, I will hate you.

I hate you, for what you have inflicted on me.

I hate you, for what you are doing to me. 

I hate you, for acting as a bridge between my soulless body and my humanity.

Every time I look in the mirror, the visage seems familiar, but I still cannot recall “EXACTLY”, where I have seen IT.

I had left IT all behind, in my past.

You have ruined me.

I am so frustrated and desperate now. I loathe myself for accepting and embracing IT; my old-self.

 I’ve always considered myself a fairly emotional person.

But, that was all behind me,

I drowned the person in the deep oceans of pacific. I tied a big boulder of despair with IT, so as to make sure that IT won’t see the light of the day.

And then, I ran, as fast as I could, as far as I could.

Because, that corpse would remind me of a pathetic, emotional person, I was, at one sort of time. I thought that I would never encounter it again.

But the fates had it.

Now everywhere I look, I see the scoundrel, the imposter, the ghost, staring at me coldly, grinning at me.

And I run {yet again.}

But this time, I am not alone.

IT; myself, is running besides me, catching up to me, like my shadow.

What I cannot decipher: After so much pain, after so much sorrow, after so many tears, why is there a little part of me that is intentionally slowing down, so as to feel the intimacy of a ghostly touch.

Why, even after what I’ve done to my doppelganger, can it ‘as well’ accept me back and try to reunite.

I am afraid of running now.

I stay, I stay and I stay.

And surprisingly, it does too.

IT hugs me and sleeps with me. We make love. We reunite.

Now, out of the blue, the moon is brighter; the wind is rhythmically cool; the birds are chirping violins.

I cannot understand.

After that one night, the rush; it is so hard on me. It is as if all the latent emotions, that I have put in a box, sealed and burnt, have cornered me. They are seeping into my skin, not one at a time, but they are bombarding their tiny Lilliputian self, to the giant I am.

And it hurts, it hurts real badly.

I do not want to feel it, not anymore. I thought that I had came a very long way, that I won’t have to suffer anymore.

But I was wrong.

I have been traversing in the opposite direction. I am till so far away from the goal post.

I am paralyzed with feelings. And even after that, I am still crawling to reach the destination, to get the grand prize i.e. the power of acceptance, the same old love, who I never embraced fully.

Thank you Dear Friend.

Thank you for giving me someone to direct my loathing towards. For giving me goals, that I would shrug off of my shoulders. For letting me hate you.

And so, I will continue to hate you, continue to hate myself, till I reach and win and embrace.

Why inflicting pain on your skin is of utmost importance.

I know the fire is going to burn me, but i have to stay close to it, because I crave its warmth.

Time and again, we are reminded that human beings are social animal {emphasis on the word animal}. We can never live in isolation. We always need to exist in a circle; interact with different people; stay with the people we adore.

But sometimes any relation {and not only the one with romantic tones, can be father-daughter, friends, etc.} can fall ill, and as a result become a toxin.

In such cases, you just cannot afford to let yourself loose from the ties. The epiphany. Why? Because they are your family; they are the ones who are an integral part of your existence; they are the ones with whom you have shared moments and memories. 

The most effective way you ask? Just pick up a sharp object and dig it deep into your skin till the rosy fountain ooze out and paint every inch of your fleshy canvas.

What would happen? It would prove to be a great distraction. You would spend more time ogling the physical, rather than going onto the next level.

How would it help?

Whenever a scar appears {out of the blue}, we spend a lot of time looking after it; hiding it; covering it; healing it so that we do not have enough time to get our minds rolling in action.

And that is the most important point, to never let healthy thoughts get to your soul because you do not want any fodder for rejuvenating your soul and then traumatize it to get back to its pathetic self. You would never want to lose that person from your life; you would never want that toxin removed from your spine. And as a positive result {and this is great}, you would be covered in more and more cuts, tears and will be bathing in an enchanting scent of a wounded flesh.

Exciting. Isn’t it?

Written by: The scars on Andre_Gennie.

Writer’s Note: I am so glad to be covering up for him. He was destined to write a new post, but chances had it, that he hopped onto some urgent and important chore i.e. succumbing to my advice. So for a few days, you can expect me to be at your service.