Crown The Night

She painted her lips red and face pink.

 Just the way they like it.


They make her evening bread

They make her winter blanket.

Wide and wider, her wings itched to soar

High into infinity.

But they,

They were lured into the halo between her legs,

Yet, wise enough she was

To breathe out the last whit of sanity

Through her skin that once again


Was an alien to her soul.

She  plugged a smile to her lips

Planked a sway to her hips.

A tag that crowned her

‘The queen of nights’

But the truth is

It was rape at her own consent.

With that truth tied down her chest

She put on her heels

To take the walk of shame

Onika-A tribute

My happiness doesn’t come from money or fame. My happiness comes from seeing life without struggle- Nicki Minaj
Ambitions come along with inspirations. People always love to be anyone else but them. I still remember when people asked me, “what do you wanna become in future?” One day I said I wanted to be like Abdul Kalam and build huge rockets. One day I said I wanted to be a super star like Amitabh Bachan and another day I said I wanted to be like Bhagat Singh and fight for my country. As years passed by I had no other choice but to grow old, as it was mandatory. Reality hit me like a cow bar! real hard. I had to face the truth that Abdul Kalam never married, Bhagat Singh was hanged at 21 and Amitabh Bachan is freaking six foot  tall!. Keeping Humor attempt aside, what I’m trying to say is We have conceived wrong ideas about ‘inspirations’. Getting Inspired from/by does not mean you must  adapt a habit or a lifestyle that belongs to someone else. That will only cost you your happiness and suck the satisfaction out of your life.(Parents, who are hearing me out , please don’t ask your kid to be like ‘Abdul Kalam’ and face the consequence later!).  Inspiration can come from a value or a belief that you honor. Inspirations can either come from Alexander who failed or the successful spider.

                Hence I decided to write about one such woman who inspired me . Her Vibe is something people consider an influence than inspiration. Well, I wouldn’t blame them for being threatened by such an intimidating persona. To many, she is all about boobs and butt. To some she is nothing but that. To me she is more than that. she is the women who told me to be myself no matter what. Today I to dedicate this post to my favorite music sensation, the queen of rap, Nicki Minaj. I am going tell why I find this woman amazing

Bottom Reached Up299858702-large

   The foremost thing that glorifies her existence, The one thing that brings a huge respect in my chest for her is the fact the she is a bottom reached up person.  Onika Tanya Maraj faced hardships as much as you and me. Her journey from being a waitress to ruling a male dominated world of rap is breathtaking.

So Dah Fuck What


Her flamboyant sense of fashion never failed to kindle the animal in me! Be it her audacious choice of hair and makeup(neon hair, seriously!) or the choice of clothes that makes her look nothing less than a Greek goddess. But the spice only turns the heat on. With the right attitude of no fucks given, The crowd sits up straight when the queen walks in

Big Titties Big But too


How can one not notice her absolutely explicit lyrics breaking the threshold that chains a woman’s passion for her body.(Of course, excluding the fact that it’s a tad inappropriate for children. Phew!) One can be proud and comfortable with their body and their sensuality, irrespective of their shape or size. Nicki makes sure the point is delivered.

Haters Hate


“Slut, cunt, desperate, whore!”  Name her with whatever  slur you want, I’ll be surprised if you can find a way to phase this woman. The most important lesson I’ve learned from this pop queen, Face your pits like you face your peaks. Get tired, get broke and get shamed, maybe or maybe not for a reason. But at the end of the day wake up and push your arse to do whatever you ought to do, Because haters are going to exist anyway. Their existence is a reminder that you are headed towards success. Now, tell me if she isn’t the baddest chick ever!



Sex is Kicking death in the ass while singing -Charles Bukowski

YES I FUCK!. There are many reasons to make you decide to or not to read this article. Now that  I have revealed what this one is going to talk about, I am not going to deny the honor of making your own judgments and I am not denying myself the liberty of speaking what my body and mind needs. Mind you, I am going to do it loud and clear for myself and all the women out there who still use the ‘code’ flower for vagina. It’s high time we kill the flower.

                   I still remember the day I received the ‘talk’, the month I had My first period. When I say the ‘talk’  it did not implicate the education that every girl must be given about the dirty ‘s’ word. Education such as the right and wrong touch or the right to say no or yes.  I received anything but that, I was given the wise words of an unwritten axiom. I was told to gift wrap my body and keep it intact and innocent for the man I get married to. I am one hundred percent sure that every  sanskar confined Indian women would have received the same counsel growing up. I mean no disrespect to those women who choose to act as they are obliged to. It’s their choice I respect, not the absurd verdict enforced upon the female sexuality that is supposed to be all about giving and receiving pleasure.

                 Enlighten me, Why is that the women, even in the act of pleasure are asked to furnish honor duty and responsibility. This is no faminazi war, my ‘not all men are asshole’ friends, I tell you!. Unlike men, female sexual desires and needs are hushed up for centuries and not a single wise soul knows what the long lost cause is. No one can explain why estrogen bearers are denied  the privilege that the testosterone bearers are given without a flinch. Now, you might expect me to put up an obsolete defense of being raised up by a conservative Hindu family. What if I say otherwise. I belong to a perfectly educated,not so conservative family and yet, you can find my 45 year old mother shushing me when I mention words like period and vagina in the presence of my 17 year old brother. This is a classic example where women are not only mortified for being loud about their desires but also, the entire concept of female sexuality is stigmatized as a taboo and a sinister act.

                 When my curiosity and hormones started kicking in I fed myself with the necessary information I wanted about the subject from the only source that gives all right and wrong equally, the internet. I read and I talked to people. Surprisingly the ‘younger’ generation are no better.  As I mention the jinxed words, the immediate reaction I received were giggling and change of topic. This is how we are molded to feel uncomfortable with our  body and its simple needs. What happens when a girl wants to place her toe out of the sensitive line. Either she will have all her thoughts vanquished just because everyone does or moves ahead to get slut-shamed. Consider this article as one such slut’s rant. In this post I want to put forward some of the common sexual myths and taboos which, every woman would have come across while growing up.

The olive test

How virginal are the  olives, you will probably never know and no ever bothers to find that out. Then why are women are subjected to this ridiculous concept of virginity. The foremost golden rule written for a proper lady ‘A women must remain a virgin and pure till she gets married while a man can have sex as many times as he likes’. No you can’t contradict this statement because when two people are brought together in matrimony, only the girl is asked for her virginity status. As far as I know, no man has ever been asked for a purity check. What I don’t understand is , how a biological condition of a woman’s one fragile membrane decides her character. When I try to find an answer to this idiocracy I get labeled as immoral, uncultured, anti-religion, anti-national and a terrorist.  All thanks to Ramayana and Devi Sita the ‘first age feminist’ who grounded the rule in every strong way possible. When questioned about your chastity, jump into fire and term that as righteousness and love. No wonder people have bad misconceptions about feminism. What about the ‘civilized’ new age society we live in. Civilized indeed, “we are very modern you see.” We say this often, and yet I have seen aunties checking for blood in sheets after the bride’s wedding night. Thank heavens, for the twisted brains of our women or we still would be jumping fires. A woman can never be pure enough for this male chauvinistic society and I can vouch for it.  So I decided to disappoint the society rather than disappoint myself

Angel or demon

              I once had an argument with a friend, that started from a very normal statement from a very normal conversation that goes like “dude! you are one horny bitch”(Normal indeed). We ended up debating whether will I or will I not have sex with someone as hot as, say Ranveer Singh. Given ‘that’ choice I say I would not even blink an eye to do all the holy deed want. We anyway concluded by hoping that Ranveer Singh doesn’t come to know about the conversation(we don’t want out sex icon dead, do we!). I actually wasn’t surprised to find my friend surprised. The concept of casual sex has always been first, a deeply misunderstood myth and a stupid taboo. Let me put this truth or fact, whatever you want to call it, straight. Once and for all. It is not necessary for you to be unconditionally and irrevocably in love with someone to get yourself wet.(yes, suck it up!). All you need is some carnal attraction and protection. When I tried to explain this to my surprised friend. She asked me a very simple yet an effective question. “You talk a great deal about self-respect and dignity, don’t you think having sex with someone you are not in love means degrading yourself?” A question valid enough to answer every ignorant mind. Yes, I regard self-respect very dear to me and I am a proud of it. Yes, I take every walk in my life with dignity and choose not to lose it no matter what. But what is self respect to your eyes? Does depriving yourself from sex just because the love of your life hasn’t found you yet means ‘self-respect’ to you(Again, all thanks to Ramayana). If so my friend,you seldom have learned the true meaning of self respect. When you don’t learn to respect your own body and it’s needs, When you don’t respect your own desire, You have  no respect for yourself. And what use do you have for dignity inside a confined room between two naked people who have everything out and open for each others eyes. If you still want to bring it in, it’s called regret not dignity. So, the next time if you get lucky enough to be put in bed with someone as hot as Ranveer Singh, fuck the angel and unleash the demon.








The Wedding Night

The bride burned herself

On the night of her wedding

Wearing every drop of gold

And wearing every drop of sanity

Bestowed upon her.

There goes my pride,

said her agnate

There goes my pride,

said her father.

There goes my poster,

said her groom.

While no one ever noticed,

On the outside, she stood.

Wearing a smile that,

she never would.

Oh darling,

Now you are in a place

That no ladder would ever touch.

Now you are in a place

where you will remain,

yours forever.

My Funny Resolution(part2)

I, Sujhini Rajkumar of house ‘I don’t give one fuck about it’ , protector of my own sorry arse, pledge that I will take a good long and relishing look at myself in the mirror everyday.Just the way it is.”

  Had I not taken the most mundane resolution for the year!  Well if I hadn’t myself known what sense I make, it’ll probably sound like “I promise to poop everyday”. The good thing is I perfectly know that I make good sense. What else could explain the weirdest words I took up as a resolution with a pretty lame game of thrones reference (bingo! to those who did not get it, because I myself got obsessed with it recently). By the end of this article you will come in terms with the fact that these words make more sense than it sounds. What is the big deal about looking in a mirror everyday, people do that, weird evil dolls do it. Why, even Hannibal Lecter does that, all the time! Now, this calls for a flashback doesn’t it

                       Turning the page to one fine afternoon, I was preparing myself for a shower. When I say ‘preparing’, it means a whole lot of preparation than that of my semester tests. It religiously starts from heating the water to my exclusive temperature, wandering naked around the room aimlessly, without realizing it and making a ‘shower playlist’ inappropriate enough to keep my mom out from walking in( Well, if she ever does that, she is most likely to find her daughter twerking like an oaf!). Very recently I realized that something goes missing from my ‘pre-shower rituals’. Something I refuse to do with full conscious and against my conscience.

                        I always refuse to look in the mirror. I won’t term myself as catoptrophobic because I don’t think I have a morbid dislike for mirrors. As a matter of fact, I have a particular relationship with them. You can see me talking and making out with it sometimes.(hey, no judgements here!). Only that, I do it with my clothes and make up on. I do like the well dressed version of myself, hence no complaints on that. But why do I refrain my naked self from getting the same lust and glory. Loving and nurturing my body is something that I don’t need much coping to do with.  I can proudly call it my forte. Yet I carefully avoid looking in mirror.

                          For the first time I realized, I was afraid of my own skin. I realized that I wasn’t hiding from mirrors, I was hiding from myself.  For someone who strongly believes in body positivity and self acceptance why is it so hard to accept a body in which they were born. To quench that curiosity I decided to do it with full awareness, paying attention to every single detail. Hence I stepped in front of a mirror, peeling the clothes off my body. Then I realized what goes wrong and where it does. For every layer of clothes I take off my body, the love  I had for it went a notch down. It wasn’t like I have never seen myself naked before. Yet my body seemed alien to me. I felt  detached from the respect I had for myself.

                        Where did I go wrong, Did I hate myself? I must have tried to find answers instead, I started coming up with excuses. And the best I could muster up was “PMS definitely!” An excuse is never an answer, I knew that very well. The answer was hushed up inside my eyes.  I looked alien to myself because it was never me who looked through my eyes. I conveniently let people look at me through my eyes.  I let those who say ‘too dark to be pretty’ to look at my color. I let those who say ‘too young to look old’ to look at my lines and marks. I let those who say ‘Not carved right’ to look at my curves and lifts. I gave in to the unknown, leaving it to them to decide for me. While they constantly whispered to me ‘you are not a material to look at’.

                       This is where I get to play the knight. I decide to fight against the whisper. I decide to break the stereotypical beauty standards set to human body and this time I decide for myself. We humans are designed to have different types of skin, shape, color and hair. Anything that is made of real flesh blood and bones are bound look different and bound to look beautiful in its own way. If anyone out there finds it difficult to accept this fact and desires to set a prototype to destroy the beauty in diversity, fuck a mannequin for heaven sake!.

                        Hot or not, smart or not, I decided the way I want to be. And that is why I take up a new resolution for this new year. Every day I will let myself have a look at myself at the mirror and absolutely fall in love with the way I am. I will accept and respect every single detail and every single  flaws I bear.  I will not flinch if I feel like I have put on weight. This is no revolution yet a step ahead. A road that might lead to self-respect. After all my ‘funny resolution’ must serve a purpose isn’t it.

My Funny Resolution (part-1)

Here I am taking a new year resolution three days after the day I am supposed to do it. Isn’t that funny. Well, I did take one anyway, so happy new year to all !

Is it the fresh air of excitement or the new set of hope and promises, that enters our life with the dawn of  January 1st, I can’t understand what makes the moment of stepping into a new deck of three sixty five days so intriguing. Yet you can find me among those who jump around when the clock strikes twelve. I am one of those who gets a gush in their nerves, every time the countdown begins. There are certain things though, Certain things that are on my deceived checklist. Certain things I always wanted to get over.

Getting drenched in alcohol till my nose bleeds them out, visiting a haunted place so that I can live to tell the tale next day, with pride and making a list of resolutions that might make my life a little more significant are the ‘to do mission’ that makes to the top of my list. When it comes to making a new year resolution, I would like to take this moment to gesture a standing ovation to all those idealist who take a great deal of time and effort to make a list and stick to it. Seriously! I consider it a great fruition if I successfully move my sorry arse out of the couch to make myself a milkshake,  Making a resolution is far from becoming an accomplishment. Hence I have decided to scratch that off my list for quite a while and excuse myself by saying ‘hey yo, I am living the moment!’

This year, I decided to bring a bit of twist,  by giving my ‘Yolo’ a break. This year, I have decided to not make a resolution but something more essential than that. A change. This year, I decided to make a funny resolution and the best part is, I did make a funny resolution. My ‘funny resolution’ for the year of 2017 is

I, Sujhini Rajkumar of house ‘I don’t give one fuck about it’ , protector of my own sorry arse, pledge that I will take a good long and relishing look at myself in the mirror everyday.Just the way it is.”


The November Is Mine

I walked through the darkest terrain and diagnosed a ghoul’s cry. The cry was no less than a frozen knife. A shrill ,pitched perfectly to melt a diamond. It came through the night that was young and drowned in oblivion. It came piercing the gelid burning with a despicable greed. I let the cry find me. I let shrill peer at me through my window, itching with hunger to reach my ears. While I stood there rooted, with no walls to bind me or no armor to hedge me. I stood there naked designing my own predation.Oh wait! Was that you? Am I to find to you when I tear the ghoul’s skin apart. The pleasure was mine when heard you cry in pain, the pain was mine when heard you cry for more. Save your frozen self from the curb of pain as there would be none to redeem you from it. Not even the light from the eyes that once soaked you in solace. Not even the warmth from the skin that once drenched you in a carnal glory. This time I have decided to be cruel enough to seize it all from you. This time I have decided to let you rot into the ice that will remain frozen within, because this time the November is mine



Ever wondered that one day you will be sitting on your couch with sunlight shining bright on your face giving you all the signs saying “girl you deserve all the happiness in this world so get your but out of that stupid couch and come out, use me!”.  Little did I know that all those ‘sunshine gestures’ would matter less than the size of a pea hole to me because here I am, being the desperately bored person that I am (well…not always) sitting on my couch with sunlight shining bright on my face, doing nothing but watching harry potter( Bearing the honor of ‘potterhead’ has got its own set of complications so no complaints here!)

But hey, this is not about me getting bored or me getting desperate. This is about why I started this blog.  This is me being proud of myself for pushing my sorry arse to  start writing. This blog is dedicated to all absolutely gorgeous and insanely talented people out there who has got no idea about it. Now, this might sound like ranting or maybe it does. But who cares, it took a humongous effort for me to muster up courage to save myself from drowning in self-doubt and self-pity.

There were times when I thought that I am not even fit to sharpen a pencil head. Writing is and has always been a burning dream desire and passion that, for me, was very far from becoming a godmother’s granted boon.Then who was stopping me from doing it. If there was anyone out there to be blamed, that would be me.  I was too busy falling in love with haters out there. Too busy to realize to see what I was giving away, a chance to be myself!. Now, before I get into the ‘you’re too late honey’ zone I decided to seize the rod and hit the chord.

I am not going to lie that the lighting has struck and now I am a changed person. All I can vouch for is that there is something in me that constantly gives a nudge to ignite the spark if not a fire, because there we people believe that drops of water make an ocean don’t we.  So I’ve decided to start collecting the drops. So what if I’m not the writer I pictured myself to be, I write and that’s what I love. It gives me a pleasure that is beyond compare and that is exactly why i started this blog. To see what a sucker I am at writing. I’ve created my own weighing machine, my safe haven. There is so much of positivity  in this world, probably more than the helium, the sun has got.  I want to dig that out I want to make them spread as much as I can and when we run out of it, that’s when the world ends.