I talk to many unknown girls, online.
The app I use does not require any personal details, at all, and that’s why pals use it as a medium of sex-talk.
Truth be told, I’m not any saint, either.
I’m just another boy with yet other hormones. But sex-talk doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, how can you possibly imagine things, on call, that you’ve never done before?
Well, let’s not dive into any further details as it’s already sounding very peculiar.
I’ll tell you why I use that app. Plain and simple.
I love listening to stories coming from girls.
Breakup. Childhood. Drop year. Suicidal thoughts. Chronic disease. Relatives. And all other dark stories, too.
Since we’re totally anonymous on this app, thus, there’s no such thing as you can trust any stranger with your stories or not.
You can.
As far as you’re not telling your complete address to strangers, you can.
So, the moment my call is connected with some random girl, there are few hi’s and hello’s and then comes my intrigue part.
‘If you don’t mind, can you tell me a story about your childhood? Any story?’ I venture.
‘Childhood? Yes, why not! Um, when I was young…’ she would reply, softly.
Speaking of their childhood, 95% of the girls end up telling a dark story. Where, they were touched very inappropriately by some distant relatives, school teacher, or some other male. Mostly known.
Even a little prodding on their stomach, by some male, carves a deep tattoo on the girls’ mind. And it becomes an eternal catastrophic memory.
On hearing so many of these stories, about bad touch, I now understand what I shouldn’t be doing as a male.
I shouldn’t be touching any girl(of whatever age) without her consent.
Because, even if I know that my touch is right, what if someone she trusted, didn’t touch her in the right way? What if she has a past? What if she thinks I’m gonna do the same as some other man did?
So, it’s my responsibility to let her know that she does not have to trust me. At least, not that easily.
I want her to know that it’s completely fine to take enough time for healing. And, I want to let her know that the right man can wait. He’s patient with the girl he loves.
Here, I’m not talking just about my future girlfriend.
I’m talking about my distant cousins who may or may not be comfortable with me, all at once. Or, my little niece, too.
I can wait till she’ll come first, with a broad smile and hands wide open. I can wait until she’ll let me embrace her with all my love.
And, only then, I’ll hug her and tell her that right men exist, too. And now, she needs to leave behind her past for her own good.
#review #Saviour #random
The app I use does not require any personal details, at all, and that’s why pals use it as a medium of sex-talk.
Truth be told, I’m not any saint, either.
I’m just another boy with yet other hormones. But sex-talk doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, how can you possibly imagine things, on call, that you’ve never done before?
Well, let’s not dive into any further details as it’s already sounding very peculiar.
I’ll tell you why I use that app. Plain and simple.
I love listening to stories coming from girls.
Breakup. Childhood. Drop year. Suicidal thoughts. Chronic disease. Relatives. And all other dark stories, too.
Since we’re totally anonymous on this app, thus, there’s no such thing as you can trust any stranger with your stories or not.
You can.
As far as you’re not telling your complete address to strangers, you can.
So, the moment my call is connected with some random girl, there are few hi’s and hello’s and then comes my intrigue part.
‘If you don’t mind, can you tell me a story about your childhood? Any story?’ I venture.
‘Childhood? Yes, why not! Um, when I was young…’ she would reply, softly.
Speaking of their childhood, 95% of the girls end up telling a dark story. Where, they were touched very inappropriately by some distant relatives, school teacher, or some other male. Mostly known.
Even a little prodding on their stomach, by some male, carves a deep tattoo on the girls’ mind. And it becomes an eternal catastrophic memory.
On hearing so many of these stories, about bad touch, I now understand what I shouldn’t be doing as a male.
I shouldn’t be touching any girl(of whatever age) without her consent.
Because, even if I know that my touch is right, what if someone she trusted, didn’t touch her in the right way? What if she has a past? What if she thinks I’m gonna do the same as some other man did?
So, it’s my responsibility to let her know that she does not have to trust me. At least, not that easily.
I want her to know that it’s completely fine to take enough time for healing. And, I want to let her know that the right man can wait. He’s patient with the girl he loves.
Here, I’m not talking just about my future girlfriend.
I’m talking about my distant cousins who may or may not be comfortable with me, all at once. Or, my little niece, too.
I can wait till she’ll come first, with a broad smile and hands wide open. I can wait until she’ll let me embrace her with all my love.
And, only then, I’ll hug her and tell her that right men exist, too. And now, she needs to leave behind her past for her own good.
#review #Saviour #random
I eye her while she’s on a walk with someone who seems like her mother.
She’s 5′7″ and her mother 5′3″. That’s what I presume from 50 meters afar and three storeys up.
She looks perfect.
Her hair tied like a braided bun and wearing that cut-off denim shorts on those small carves, long legs: she looks absolutely perfect.
The road where she’s walking seems endless.
I want to go out there and maybe ask her mom to go home while I walk with her daughter, maintaining a proper one-hand distance.
I want to assure her mother that she’s all safe with me.
I want to assure her that all I wish for is to walk with her daughter. Maybe crack a little joke here and there to make her laugh: but nothing more than that.
As I’m planning-my-plans-in-my-head, my beautiful 5′7″ is long gone away from my detect.
But that’s okay.
I’ll go on a walk tomorrow at exact 8:58 PM to espy her walking right on my right/right on my left.
I’ll walk and walk and walk. I’ll walk till she notices me.
I’ll walk exactly how Forrest Gump ran in his low days.
I’m at my low days
#review #random #Saviour
She’s 5′7″ and her mother 5′3″. That’s what I presume from 50 meters afar and three storeys up.
She looks perfect.
Her hair tied like a braided bun and wearing that cut-off denim shorts on those small carves, long legs: she looks absolutely perfect.
The road where she’s walking seems endless.
I want to go out there and maybe ask her mom to go home while I walk with her daughter, maintaining a proper one-hand distance.
I want to assure her mother that she’s all safe with me.
I want to assure her that all I wish for is to walk with her daughter. Maybe crack a little joke here and there to make her laugh: but nothing more than that.
As I’m planning-my-plans-in-my-head, my beautiful 5′7″ is long gone away from my detect.
But that’s okay.
I’ll go on a walk tomorrow at exact 8:58 PM to espy her walking right on my right/right on my left.
I’ll walk and walk and walk. I’ll walk till she notices me.
I’ll walk exactly how Forrest Gump ran in his low days.
I’m at my low days
#review #random #Saviour
Today, while I was cleaning every corner of my house with an unused cloth, a thought came in my mind.
"Suppose I would do this in an orphanage, or some NGO, and upload a photo of it. I’ll be in the good books of everyone. People will like me."
The thought didn’t last though. But it was there. Sweeping just four rooms of my house, for one day, and it was there.
Whatever things we do, we do it for recognition or money.
If you don’t believe me, take a few examples from your life. From mine, I’ll point out a few. Writing this post: recognition. Education: money. Buying fancy clothes: recognition. Learning how to invest: money.
These are just clear examples. Nothing brainstorming here. Dive in a little deeper, and you’ll know that everything is related to these two. Recognition and money. Recognition from girls counts, too. Okay?
Now, look at your mother.
Look at the nameplate of your house. Is there her original surname on it? Or even her name? No? Recognition— cross.
Is she a housewife who works at least twelve to fourteen hours a day? Yes? Does she make money out of it? No? Money— cross.
—
Whenever I come across a term called woman, I cross it down. I replace it with mother. And when I glance at this word now, I see everything.
I see the whole goddamn world in it.
Because why not? She’s the one who doesn’t work for recognition or money, she works for the love she has for me and my family. Nothing else.
As a closure, there’s a Hindi excerpt that’s very close to my heart. I’d like to share this with you.
"Akhsar dekha hai maine
Purush kavi hota hai
Daarshnik hota hai
Filmkaar hota hai
Chitrakaar hota hai
Bahut bechain hai kuch rachne ke liye
Kyunki wo kabhi jeevan nhi rach sakta
Kyuki wo kabhi maa nahi bann sakta."
Translation:
I have seen it too often,
A man is a poet,
A philosopher,
A director,
A painter,
He’s very restless to create something,
As he can’t create a life.
Because he can never become a mother.
#review #Saviour #random
"Suppose I would do this in an orphanage, or some NGO, and upload a photo of it. I’ll be in the good books of everyone. People will like me."
The thought didn’t last though. But it was there. Sweeping just four rooms of my house, for one day, and it was there.
Whatever things we do, we do it for recognition or money.
If you don’t believe me, take a few examples from your life. From mine, I’ll point out a few. Writing this post: recognition. Education: money. Buying fancy clothes: recognition. Learning how to invest: money.
These are just clear examples. Nothing brainstorming here. Dive in a little deeper, and you’ll know that everything is related to these two. Recognition and money. Recognition from girls counts, too. Okay?
Now, look at your mother.
Look at the nameplate of your house. Is there her original surname on it? Or even her name? No? Recognition— cross.
Is she a housewife who works at least twelve to fourteen hours a day? Yes? Does she make money out of it? No? Money— cross.
—
Whenever I come across a term called woman, I cross it down. I replace it with mother. And when I glance at this word now, I see everything.
I see the whole goddamn world in it.
Because why not? She’s the one who doesn’t work for recognition or money, she works for the love she has for me and my family. Nothing else.
As a closure, there’s a Hindi excerpt that’s very close to my heart. I’d like to share this with you.
"Akhsar dekha hai maine
Purush kavi hota hai
Daarshnik hota hai
Filmkaar hota hai
Chitrakaar hota hai
Bahut bechain hai kuch rachne ke liye
Kyunki wo kabhi jeevan nhi rach sakta
Kyuki wo kabhi maa nahi bann sakta."
Translation:
I have seen it too often,
A man is a poet,
A philosopher,
A director,
A painter,
He’s very restless to create something,
As he can’t create a life.
Because he can never become a mother.
#review #Saviour #random
You’re drunk.
It’s a birthday party and everybody’s dancing. You have drunk off your limits and now you’re searching for a room to relax a bit.
You finally find a room and the door’s already open.
But you see there’s a girl in there. She’s holding her forehead with both her hands like she has committed a dark sin.
Maybe she drank, too.
‘Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit in here? Actually, there’s too much noise in the hall.’
‘Sure.’
You sit beside her on the same bed and venture what’s wrong with her.
‘I’m drunk and it’s my first time,’ she says, mulls over something, and continues, ‘I shouldn’t have had so much.’
And, as she says that, the light goes off.
The power supply’s cut.
‘Oh, my.’ She mumbles inside her trembling lips, picks herself up, and sits afar from where she was sitting earlier.
‘My cell phone’s in the hall,’ she says, again within herself.
She’s not afraid of darkness. She is afraid of a man in darkness.
You sense the gravity of the situation and leave the room, straight away. And a few minutes later, you return with a flashlight on.
‘May I now come in, madam?’ You say in a sarcastic tone.
‘Haha, how sweet. Come on in.’ She says to you, with a small, warm smile.
‘Not all men are same.’ She says, this time to her inner-self.
"Build a character in such a way that even in a dark room, a girl feels safe with you."
#Saviour #review #random
It’s a birthday party and everybody’s dancing. You have drunk off your limits and now you’re searching for a room to relax a bit.
You finally find a room and the door’s already open.
But you see there’s a girl in there. She’s holding her forehead with both her hands like she has committed a dark sin.
Maybe she drank, too.
‘Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit in here? Actually, there’s too much noise in the hall.’
‘Sure.’
You sit beside her on the same bed and venture what’s wrong with her.
‘I’m drunk and it’s my first time,’ she says, mulls over something, and continues, ‘I shouldn’t have had so much.’
And, as she says that, the light goes off.
The power supply’s cut.
‘Oh, my.’ She mumbles inside her trembling lips, picks herself up, and sits afar from where she was sitting earlier.
‘My cell phone’s in the hall,’ she says, again within herself.
She’s not afraid of darkness. She is afraid of a man in darkness.
You sense the gravity of the situation and leave the room, straight away. And a few minutes later, you return with a flashlight on.
‘May I now come in, madam?’ You say in a sarcastic tone.
‘Haha, how sweet. Come on in.’ She says to you, with a small, warm smile.
‘Not all men are same.’ She says, this time to her inner-self.
"Build a character in such a way that even in a dark room, a girl feels safe with you."
#Saviour #review #random
I was with my mother at the best shoe shop in my district.
‘Ma’am, tell me, how can I help you?’
‘Do you have some men’s sandals for him?’ mother asked and craned her head towards me, to hint the shopkeeper that she’s talking about me.
‘Yes, ma’am. What’s his shoe size?’
‘10.’
‘Just a minute, ma’am. I’ll be back with the bests we have.’
He went to the other room, swarmed up the ladder and brought 5–6 best pairs with him. Like he said.
‘Which one of those do you like?’ she asked me, once I was finished up trying them all.
‘This greyish one. It has a trendy look.’
‘Okay. What’s the price of that grey one?’ my mother asked the shopkeeper in a polite tone.
‘Just 1100. But since you’ve come here for the first time, ma’am, there’s a 10% discount for you.’ He budged his fingers onto the calculator, just to show us the 10% calculation.
‘Here it is ma’am. Only nine-hundred-and-ninety rupees,’ he said.
My mother’s eyes first flickered, then lay down on the floor for a couple of seconds. Mulling.
Then all of a sudden, she looked at me dubiously, waiting for my reply.
I read the tangling lines on her brow and said;
‘I don’t want those Sandals, Maa.’
I paused, took a deep breath and continued, ‘The red one seems perfect. What’s its price?’ I asked the shopkeeper while looking straight into his eyes, without any shame.
‘550 including the 10% off.’
‘Pack that red one.’ I said while holding back my tears, not because we couldn’t afford it. Because my mother was humiliated as she didn’t buy me those grey sandals.
She didn’t say a word but I sensed it from her eyes.
We’re middle-class people and we have to think twice before buying anything expensive.
But hey, rest assured!
Time changes.
And mine will change pretty soon, too, I can promise you that.
#review #random #Saviour
‘Ma’am, tell me, how can I help you?’
‘Do you have some men’s sandals for him?’ mother asked and craned her head towards me, to hint the shopkeeper that she’s talking about me.
‘Yes, ma’am. What’s his shoe size?’
‘10.’
‘Just a minute, ma’am. I’ll be back with the bests we have.’
He went to the other room, swarmed up the ladder and brought 5–6 best pairs with him. Like he said.
‘Which one of those do you like?’ she asked me, once I was finished up trying them all.
‘This greyish one. It has a trendy look.’
‘Okay. What’s the price of that grey one?’ my mother asked the shopkeeper in a polite tone.
‘Just 1100. But since you’ve come here for the first time, ma’am, there’s a 10% discount for you.’ He budged his fingers onto the calculator, just to show us the 10% calculation.
‘Here it is ma’am. Only nine-hundred-and-ninety rupees,’ he said.
My mother’s eyes first flickered, then lay down on the floor for a couple of seconds. Mulling.
Then all of a sudden, she looked at me dubiously, waiting for my reply.
I read the tangling lines on her brow and said;
‘I don’t want those Sandals, Maa.’
I paused, took a deep breath and continued, ‘The red one seems perfect. What’s its price?’ I asked the shopkeeper while looking straight into his eyes, without any shame.
‘550 including the 10% off.’
‘Pack that red one.’ I said while holding back my tears, not because we couldn’t afford it. Because my mother was humiliated as she didn’t buy me those grey sandals.
She didn’t say a word but I sensed it from her eyes.
We’re middle-class people and we have to think twice before buying anything expensive.
But hey, rest assured!
Time changes.
And mine will change pretty soon, too, I can promise you that.
#review #random #Saviour
#review #random #nitinism
_____________
Why why why i dont know why ...
.
The is lots of love for your soul ,
But you leave it by saying its a loll.,
.
There is lots of clash what is liken by me,
And what is good for me .
.
I don know why why why,...
.
Wakes up in the morning with a dream,
Till Sleeping in night for a dream ..
.
Why why why i am writting these ..
I don't know why why why....
Hope u enjoyed it...
_________________
hello every one...
Its pleasurable for me to have good bond here😊
_____________
Why why why i dont know why ...
.
The is lots of love for your soul ,
But you leave it by saying its a loll.,
.
There is lots of clash what is liken by me,
And what is good for me .
.
I don know why why why,...
.
Wakes up in the morning with a dream,
Till Sleeping in night for a dream ..
.
Why why why i am writting these ..
I don't know why why why....
Hope u enjoyed it...
_________________
hello every one...
Its pleasurable for me to have good bond here😊
I feel void inside cause something's been eating me up,
Deep inside I feel disturbed,
Sobbing in silence, I bear all screams
Which are however; quiet when I am coming home.
Should I question my mind?
Should I question being alive?
I am living with a heavy heart passing on a recurrent sigh.
Can't you see me falling apart?
And how bare these insecurities are...
Those voices still scream but I can't complain...
Cause they are
Quiet when I am coming home and then I speak to the stars.
#review #random
Deep inside I feel disturbed,
Sobbing in silence, I bear all screams
Which are however; quiet when I am coming home.
Should I question my mind?
Should I question being alive?
I am living with a heavy heart passing on a recurrent sigh.
Can't you see me falling apart?
And how bare these insecurities are...
Those voices still scream but I can't complain...
Cause they are
Quiet when I am coming home and then I speak to the stars.
#review #random