How does it feel like to snort feminism in the form of English hons – I liberalize it as Orange Cedar

Here is to my birdie,

who I never want to cage or box, but your heart skips like crazy that you lose yourself.

On 12/10/2016, I went on solitude drinking in Big Bang Theory(a pretty neat bar in my area – where I could convince the manager that I as a stag was a deserving candidate to drink in pubs such as their’s- I was more than welcome) not just by them but by three other girls who walked into the smoking room. Sorry, I wasnt there to feel the music but come out of the shackles I had put myself into because of my pure and tender heart.

Worried any random advances over chicks in Chennai, would be treated with disdain – I patiently over hears their conversations until ‘one’ of them walked away. I sniffed different things in the talks, but what got me advancing was that one of them happened to be an stu from SVCE, my undergrad college. As the talks progressed the female who left the smoking room turned back, she might have been a pretty little woman, but what was more attractive was not just her eyes, but her degree English Hons. I have had a huge admiration for the language, the romance the language brings in is what gives me the bodhe, not the cocktail I held in my hand – I perceived and believe too after the last few days.

Talks which I would characterize mostly as liberating, got me tangled. Liberating is misleading and more twisted than what I understand, but I guess sniffing the language alone was not the case after a rollercoaster last few days, as I fell into the depth of her eye-contact which where not only comforting for a man but make you feel like Jim Morrison. Hons enn solren na, I believe they are romantic fools who prefer hand-written letters to emails, stoles over duppattas – ofcourse more inviting – the regular man than most other ppl. in general. They look for souls rather than for the set of attractive of qualities which is normally preferred in our society like such as ours’s. Romba pughaza vum virumbala at the same time, as women ll be women, men will be fools to set sights on blind romanticism forgetting their so called ‘status’ which in many cases are to be considered serious. Probably she termed it as passion, in work and life which I lacked! I sniff that. Studies in Europe does make more sense to me, thanks mademoiselle..

As time progressed, the romance, oops the admiration grew.. love blossomed.


How many of you would have traveled in the giant wheel in bessy? huh? Infact take notice of.. She did! There was romanticism in the air even though it was with her friend along.. I sniffed everything of the purest form, as I in my heart decided to drive her to Blue Cross road, lonely and secluded, as we shared cigarettes sharing stories and talking about movies.. I drove her back home..

“Sin is a word I don’t understand..maybe hurting someone is a sin…loving definitely ain’t”

I though wanted to paint myself greatwhite as I invited her to my paradises, Amethyst & Park Hyatt, staying true to my words “I didnt want to cage this BIRDIE”. Thats my trait and thats the space I give to my fellow peeps, why the hell I wont for a woman who I fell for in a holistic way if you might {hahah} say..


I wish, if I could have boxed us in a photo together which would portray us, but I must admit it is unethical on my part to do that in my blog space at this very moment. She called me Jim Morrison.. Such is the bodhe, the wine – just kicked me to feel liberation. I flipped many a time then after, but I still feel the music like the Santa Christina we had, in a fermented way.. like a sine wave.. feel the cigarettes in my lungs when it is free flowing.. get choked when its drenched. I knew I was in love.

The feel of your birde falling on you, for comfort and the breeze which was an uncharacteristic coldness..which made it divine ..a feel of yesterdays wine..made u feel sublime..oh my goodness..oh my goddess..

Bessie at 4 am, romance holding your girl in your hand talking on random stories of the past, as we were lost in the fading moon. The deep inner secrets will not be revealed but I am proud of myself standing like a wall, comforting and feeling each other words and fantasizing on past, present and future.

The sunrise, got us back into reality and a war of words.. each not letting down the relationship.. as we were suddenly awakened by the reality that is the past. Phew! Honestly, honesty is to be appreciated..for us it was like we were entangled but words such as birdie and passion in life for work kept us distant. and ofcourse our past life and experiences. We kept fighting tooth and nail, but it seemed to wane down.. the romanticism in the air went missing.. synchronous – > asynchronous. back and forth..

There is this sincerity in every relationship I demand, of the highest order. Cause I mercilessly love and fall into characters whom I love. Its hard, when its not. I am not belittling her feeling here, but its hard how I put it across.

You drop your fantasy worlds on her, you give the best and the highest thoughts on human relationships and still doesnt work.. Christsake, you tend to feel they havent sniffed you in the purest form as you did, probably not the traits which I boast for.. you get in to the abyss, twisted cruelly..othaah!

words like LETS BE FRIENDS! seem twisted aint it?


For my is pillayar. You are tender, you are pure.. I still wanna sniff you of the purest form..

but can we do a tandav?

As we said to ourselves, always we need to channelize our energy into different ways.. I wanna see my birdie fly.

Happy diwali, to my laddo, murruku mammi..

Fly you idiot ! Snort me in the purest form..

With much love,