Scribble Me Words

Harry Styles at the 2019 Met Gala Image Credits: Manchester Evening News “He wears pink, he is GAaayY!”.  “OMG! What’s on his face? Makeup?? Hmmm…cute..looks like a *fairy, haha!” “Is he wearing earrings? Well, we all know who does..duh..girls… Homosexuals!!!” I would like to categorise the above three types of stereotyping under the broader category of fashion, i.e. A MAN IS GAY BASED ON HIS FASHION CHOICE. (The term ‘fashion’, describes “popular or latest style of clothing, hair, decoration, or behaviour”.) Let's learn some more by eavesdropping on a little conversation. ( It's 7 May, 2019, a day after the famous Met Gala was held in New York. Ba ck home, here, in Fatorda, Goa, Blake, Rohan and Hosea (fictitious characters), are having quite the chat . ) Hosea : Did you guys check out yesterday's Met Gala? The celebrities really dropped the glamour bomb on the red carpet! Rohan : (Dude) I know right ! The sheer *pizzazz in the clothing was amazing! How do they such outfit...

Wake up in the morning, feel like Sleepy the dwarf. Roll over on my side, a grinning dog next to me! Before I know, it's time for the first lecture,  Through the classroom doors I walk, into my bedroom I go! The long, wooden desks and benches are gone, Replaced by just a table and chair. Lecturers and college mates are but faces on a screen, Their voices, mere sounds speaking out to me.  There is no more chitter-chatter to meet the ears, No more rush of footfalls on the ground. The sound of the bell is a distant ringing.  Oh wait, that's just a phone ring-a-linging!  The sounds that emerge from the depths of the background, Like horrid shrieks that pierce a calm cool night. The blaring of horns, the sirens of ambulances,  Oh Lord! My head, an airplane through  turbulence! Come time for lectures to end,  My eyes begin a protest of *"Your Eyes Matter".  My head is holding a party, A hundred elephants doing the *Harlem Shake. The last ounce of e...

Image Credits: Tools and Toys (I had written this book review a couple of months ago, on someone's request. I edited it a bit before posting it here.) Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood , a memoir by Trevor Noah, published in  November, 2016. Trevor Noah is a South African comedian and former host of 'The Daily Show'. He has also acted in  films, soap operas, TV shows and won a number of awards.      Noah was born in South Africa, during apartheid, to a black Xhosa mother and white Swiss- German father. Born at a time when interracial coupling was illegal and his birth would have  invited jail time for his mother, she took advantage of loopholes in the law and managed to evade  arrest. Although his mother had him out of wedlock by choice, she was an extremely religious  person and took Noah and his brother to many church services on Sunday whether they had a car  or had to travel by minivan or walk. She didn’t even let roadb...

  I lie in bed, in a cold dark room, The only light I see, Is from the moon above, And a thousands stars sparkling around. The room's not as dark as what's inside me,  Consuming me minute by minute,  Like a blackhole opening up, Engulfing everything in its path But you, you'll never understand what I go through,  You'll never see the pain. The scars that are etched across my wrists,  Tell stories of their own.  You act like you know how I feel, Let's be real. You think I crave the attention,  All you'll ever do is preach. You tell me, if I have a problem, talk. Yet when I try to, You've got your own problems.  I shouldn't be wound up over silly thoughts. You tell me to seek therapy and maybe it'll heal me. But the help I need is not the help I receive. And all you ever do is run your mouth, Like you're a professional in all matters concerning me. So, if all you're doing is acting like you care, Stop! The last thing I need is another one, Tell...