It is time we have to kill.
Cool, either we make out or talk?
Either ways, I penetrate your penetralium.
My confessions are varied and contain contradictions.
I will not be able to explain it all in one go: I contain multitudes.
If you distill me to my confessions, it is unjust.
If you see me without them, that is unfair too.
I renounce god so I make my confessions to you; whom I consider holier than any god you pray to.
I have the insight that I have them;
I also have the enlightenment to explain them.
Mine would be three:
Solitude, women and coffee.
Solitude is my first & true friend; the one that stayed,
that was used to create me when the cousins left.
My room a stage, a class, a maze;
Which I used to learn about me and others.
So, I can enjoy myself in a room full of people so as to not lose me.
While also not losing myself in my solitude.
Also, cause people are so fucking boring.
Everything they say is staged & predictable.
I need some me to get my adrenaline going.
Women have created and shaped my life.
From my mother, to my sisters & to the other women I have loved.
I have not gone a single day without talking to a woman at a deeper level since the Summer of 2011.
As a psychologist friend recently said,” I have only dated women for the past 12 years and never dated myself.” Only a woman could have said that.
But then women are a better mirror for me than me.
And through it all, my culmination was a woman that completes me,
that is the waterfall, inferno, soul & camphor
The one that went beyond words and talks;
Women are an amalgamation of the songs my mother sings,
The thoughts my sisters hold,
The fight that every woman has every day of her life
The rumours and the words that are said in joust to me but as accusations on them,
The love we made,
The conversations we had
And the altar I have created for the woman who is the love of my life,
To have the final walk towards and make the final vows.
Coffee is my nicotine.
It is my way to keep moving
The reward I look forward to
The stimulation of my soul.
The weapon I exploit to keep writing and feeling.
And thus, my confessions are stated.
What are yours? I yearn to know.
Now, the night grows long and we have talked enough.
Time to make me a confession you can make to a priest in the future.
Himanshu Chakravarty Sharma / मंच 