The Prose and Cons of a Gindu (Gay-Hindu)
Intro.
Eyes temporarily blinded by the truth, my mind found insight in the dark.
Labels of 108, circulating my body weight, penetrated through the skin and danced from within. Brail carved into membrane, words digested through brain.
Neurologically imbalanced matter, concuss and insane.
“British-Indian”
“Dread-head”
“Traveller”
“Single”
“Gay”
“Hindu”
“Female”
“retrograde”
Labels became prayer beads, re-instilling mantras of ignorance. Pain became the supreme, evicting the soul from existence...
Drifting but resilient, the soul awaited in vein. Until the Spring of '22', when contemporary 'SELF' accompanied her home.
Chapter ** (The Blue Print)
Artist by nature, therapist under light, 'C' embodied the goddess Saraswati, offering inspiration into life. Unconventional ways to meet, festival green under feet, work-hours dictated, our juxtaposing meets.
Assimilating in mind, ego and pride left behind, her gaze outlined the questions but my words created the lines. Vibrations cut with humour, entwined yellow and red, orange burnt the bridges. that ‘assumptions’ previously led.
Body under seize, business and pleasure a reason to meet, her hands evacuated the boulders, deep beneath my being. Laid on public domain, her artwork up for sale, thoughts uniquely arranged and attracted souls towards change.
Female energy personified, Shakti drawn in form, 'Devi-Ma' was the image that stepped me out of this world. Tears breaching ducts and revelations taking a spin, my third-eye absorbed it calmly and processed her from within.
Sitting in the Navel, a space air's sent to breath, Kulakundi stopped her swirling and slithered towards her inevitability. The catalyst, Saraswati, risen from the sea, reminded me that Goddess Parvati, infinitely flows, in, out and through me.
My heart, my throat, my crown. Full and overflowing.
Led pen to paper, to write several pieces, responding to practical-jokes...from the universe.
Chapter ** (Olympics)
Over years of proving, I’m usually right, my concurrent energy, I can manipulate. Masterminded through time, results leading to no crime, not falling short, to pre-meditated lines. Evidence has been collected, footprints traced. My wisdom summarising characteristics, spotted, in the race.
Usain bolts, running from their faults. Picking up the pace, on a track, they cannot break. Free rein in the brains, to play several conflicting games. The safety of others?...always second place. Inhalers of toxins, injectors of bad blood, absolute Chaos, when anxiety shoots the gun.
Hiding from the pain, is not my chosen game. Resolving muscular trauma, re-introduced a kind and loving daughter. You can’t catch me, I possess that natural THC. That’s why I get CBD energy, often, chasing after me. Holding me back, with its invisible traps, convincing me the flame can't be lit in the rain.
But my mind is a powerhouse, outputs remain consistent. Only training on the tracks, of love and good intentions. Assumptions I’m a player, running on multiple hearts, my generous and boisterous attitude, most, cannot keep up. Everyone’s a Judge, culminating their own needs, content with giving faults, from restricted points of views.
A team, I’ve never needed, solo I can train. Always laying down new grounds, to learn a brand new game.
Chapter **(The Gay Hindu)
Vai, your eyes the formation of love and trust, taught me to re-discover myself and purge that abusive bloke. The pledges of gratitude, I’d sent towards you, as my number One, my Foundation, my Lover, and then my Friend. I wanted to express, how it felt to walk with you, until your soul left its body, and your presence I could no longer feel. Saturday the 13th of August, twenty-twenty-two, your light took a detour, and erased my silhouette...completely.
Bonding though skin colour, gender and sexuality, we embraced each other like long-lost-lovers, destined for matrimony. Not in this lifetime, I felt that in my gut, but certainly century’s from now, when we rejected the ‘self-destruct’.
The winter of ‘05’, shone summer rays through my eyes. Joint tunnel vision, coaxed out the dim light that almost died. We had infinite heat, that expanded beyond the sheets, so of course we attempted long distance, and juggling Uni. Reading and Sussex, discovered through clubs, saw us dancing with no spectators and never Giving. A. Fuck.
Aside the morning sun, my bacon sandwich you made with a smile. Never forgetting to cut equal triangles and removing all the crust. Always laughing and joking, about my obscure but fun requests, never shaming me once, for my naughty and romantic facets.
Dates on the pier, playing air hockey with no fear, pulling down on my shirt, wanting for your eyes to flirt. The distraction of your smirk, sent the score back down my throat, controlling my minds reaction, to lose the game through dirty thought.
I adored you, you adored me, words and actions never spared. Our altering locations and attention spans, created decades of being good friends. We danced around each others lives, with it never being an issue, as you taught me how to be friends with ex’s and share a mature and healthy attitude.
That heart-breaking call, landing August the 3rd, projected my buzzing existence, into a new static world. I learnt you had been sick. Feeling depressed. Your coping mechanisms limited, to drinking and thinking in your crib. Attacks on the heart, left you vulnerable and hurt, drowning in a place, with no open-return. Never to hug. See. Hear you Again. That reality, far too cruel.
I prayed everyday, took time to understand, why, THIS, was happening to you.
The night that you died, I lost the stars in my eyes, so carried you to the roof, to re-name ALL, the constellation...after you. It’s the best I could do, to keep you in my view, as I’d never been in this situation and kinda, didn’t know what to do...
Did someone play you the voice note, I sent hours before you passed? Did you see me at your funeral, wearing a black and orange bandana?
A stream of questions, I'd like to lay to you, but I’ll save them until we're together, Busting ‘Return of the Mac’, FULL volume.
Chapter ** (Vibe checks)
Wriggling toes, breaching the crack under the door, shadows conspicuously taunting, moving in for more. Access denied, repeated by conscious mind, the subconscious awaiting someone skilful, to play the mastermind.
Disbelief in the head, in the purity of letters sent, are they portraying what I’d like to hear or is it written with real intent? Words rejected, discarded as harmless flirt, an energy sits cautiously, amongst two attractive friends.
Is it me or is it you? holding up this ruse. Interchanging the energy, fast and slow, trying to re-direct the view. This hearts suspended, vitals can’t be read, deflecting complements intrinsically, from all potential lovers.
Prior guests, defaced this space, stained and bleeding through. Future-self, unaware of itself, not understanding how to move. Am I using this light, to fill your voids? Or can we have a balanced truce? Find Interactions rooting from positive places, not gaps in the unfilled mind.
Chapter ** (Rolling stone)
They say home is where the heart is but I can’t seem to place it. Transparency is making it arduous, to permanently route it. Unable to see it, in its fiery form, its beats remain silent but the blood still pours. Feeling it organically, without neuro input, is a challenge to the senses, controlling mass decisions. Pressures rise, turning into bloodshot eyes, blurring the vision, for fertile grounds.
Chapter ** (Mirror Mirror)
Mirror mirror on the wall, who's this face I see? when I call for you.
Is it them or is it me, you are reflecting in what I see? Shining the guidelines on how I’m meant to be.
Can I blame them for skewing, my sense of ‘me’? Or is it my fault for listening to them, too intensely.
Am I not me, a singular human being? Formed of my skin, for which only, I, live within…
Mirror mirror on the wall, show me the entire colour spectrum and make it bold.
When my internal sun hits your surface, bounce the rays back to my eyes and transpose that former image.
Reflect the purity, of my actual being. Expose the heart that never stops giving. Tell me things you are supposed to tell, the truth, the truth, the truth. This is the only image you should be portraying of me, when I call for you to reflect my TRUE self-image.
Chapter **(Synchronicity)
I can never relate to how others deem loss but I’ve learnt pure souls often get borrowed, for more seasons than others.
Our souls synchronise, again and again, one lifetime isn’t enough, so we continue the wait…
Temporary loss on this earth, makes existing unbearable. Breathing…seemingly worthless. A need to be with them everywhere, makes the world a negative space. But wait…
I know, please know, they glide endlessly through us.
They hold our hands awaiting a peaceful smile on our face, so they too can share that smile, and rest further in peace.
They penetrate our life choices, sending us sign after sign.
Dancing endlessly in the air, to celebrate our deserving highs.
Humans may struggle, to converse around loss, but we can let them hold us close, with gentle arms.
Taking embraces in. Breathing deeply in them. Releasing ourselves. Feel Still.
*
Until that magical reunion, we've been waiting for, for so long.
we can look forward to that first moment, of seeing each other again.
The ‘Déjà vu’, the excitement of retelling the story. We’ll promise each other again, we’ll meet in the next life.
We will continue our eternal journey, on another bitter sweet adventure. We’ll combine and combust towards Moksha, where we will be, forever. Permanent.
