My Many Lovers

Some make me laugh.

Some make me sad.

Some make me wonder.

Some make me empathize.

Some make me swear.

They all make me think.

 
 

A new lover each day.

A new bed-mate for each night.

Some of them are expensive per hour.

They speak different dialects and even different tongues.

Some, in the heat of passion, throw at me words that I barely understand.

Nevertheless, I hear mesmerized.

Oh, talk too much, they all do.

About things I know and don’t.

Sometimes I even doze off listening,

Only to be shaken awake with no mercy.

They hate being interrupted.

The idiots do not believe in conversation.

They are too full of themselves to listen to others.

I don’t blame them.

Each one seems to have too much to convey in too less time.

 
 

They come to me from far off places.

But gladly accompany me when I travel.

When I have no trips planned,

They excitedly drag me someplace.

Mostly places that I have never been to.

Sometimes to old haunts,

But with new experiences.

I share with one or the other of them,

Most of my life’s experiences.

Well, they ARE much of my life’s experiences!

 
 

Enriching experiences.

The kind that gives one the Aha-moments.

The kind that teaches one new ways to think..

Builds attitude..

Builds IQ..

Builds emotional maturity..

The kind that makes one grow up.

 
 

They know no jealousy.

They haven’t learnt to be possessive.

One waits patiently for another to leave my side.

Even for months sometimes.

But leave they always do.

Uncomplaining.

With no trace of sadness whatsoever.

Stone-hearted brutes.

It is simply business for them.

Having pleasured one, they seek the next.

But I can’t let the sadness of separation flood me.

For have I not learnt from them?

To keep seeking new lovers?

To keep expanding the harem?

 
 

I have learnt to let go of them and keep their memories.

I have learnt to feel a twinge of sadness and much of satisfaction.

But the helplessness never seems to leave me..

The helplessness that I can’t share them with the world.

I can’t discuss their quirks with anyone.

I can’t bitch about them with anyone.

I am told that this is the essential nature of love affairs..

The loneliness and exclusivity, however temporary.

 
 

But I do NOT want the bitterness..

Especially because I know that it is easy to cure.

I just need to meet other lovers of my lovers.

Others, who too have grown up with my lovers.

Well.. easy only in words.

For I rarely find people who take interest in my lovers.

They say one or the other of the dumbos bored them to death as early as childhood.

They loathe to even go near another one.

After all, who doesn’t fear death? ๐Ÿ˜›

 
 

But my lovers are not all that boring really..

They can entertain.

They can thrill.

They can be poetic.

They can inspire.

They can be intense..

And move you to tears when you least expect it.

Though sometimes pedantic,

They are very good at teaching,

Directly or Subtly.

Together, they can be true soul-mates.

Plus, young or old, they smell real nice ๐Ÿ˜‰

The feel of their skins can’t really be described.

 
 

They are easily available too.

One can buy, borrow, or even steal them.

Buy exotic ones at posh establishments.

Find them waiting for prey at shady street-corners.

Borrow them from a neighbor.

Steal one from a friend.

Believe me, it’s exciting to snatch them when they are others’. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Want to try one of mine?

 
 

Don’t know which one would suit your temperament?

Help web-pages are aplenty on the WWW.

There are nice online dating sites too.

My favorite ones are called ย goodreads.com and flipkart.com

 
 

With all that goodness, variety and the convenience..

Why do people lead loveless lives?

Why do they deprive themselves of the magic that are words?

Why don’t people want to grow up?

I just don’t get it!

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20 thoughts on “My Many Lovers

  1. Wonderfully put… young or old they smell really nice – so true. Only – you don’t need to let them go.. right?

    • Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚

      Well.. once finished with them, it always feel sad that that particular journey is over. We can’t but let go off the reading experience and move on to another one? The books can stay, but the first read is always special. ๐Ÿ˜‰

  2. I quite enjoy those of your lovers I’ve this far had the pleasure of meeting. Infact one of them has kept me up at night for the last 3 nights, far longer than I should, considering that my alarm bell rings at 6.

    She uses words that are unfamiliar to me, Indian words like asana, brahman, asura, rakshasa, pisaca and gharial. In some cases I’m not even sure what language the words are in. Sanskrit ? I eat these words anyway, swallow them whole, unable to chew them. To me they smell of curry and colorful spices, of elephants and mysteries. Sometimes, they start to make sense after a while, the context infusing them with meaning.

    The mythology I know smells different. It also contains words I suppose may be similarily mysterious to you. Mjรธlnir. ร…sgard. Midgardsorm. Hugin. Jotne. These smell of low dark stone-houses with earth-floors and open fires. Of beer and sweat. Of elegant ships and stories told around the fire while winter-storms roar outside.

    It reminds me of just how much we where (and still are) a tiny tribe of villagers and farmers, at a time when India had metropolises and high culture the likes of which arrived hundreds of years later here. (metropolises didn’t, actually)

    The scope is breathtaking. I had to read some passages several times, and do mental math. 2 million ships, each carrying 1000 ? That’s 2 *billion* warriors. And it’s stated that this is equal to 20 times the force of Ayodhya, which means they have 100 million warriors.

    I tried imagining that, but failed miserably. In the mythology I know 5000 is a mighty army.

    You can’t share them all with the world. But you can share some of them with some parts of the world, and I’m glad you’ve shared some with me. Some day I must come and smell reality.

  3. I adore the way they smell… the posh ones from a nice mall are almost orgasmic ๐Ÿ˜› and the ones that can be found on streets in a sunday bazar are the ones I like when my pockets are a little light.. Thoroughly enjoyed the post!

  4. ๐Ÿ™‚ is this some genre of poetry? pardon my ignorance, but isn’t it something to build a hype and later talk about something totally else?! It is lovely, this poem. My date, muse has to be the national libraries here.

    • Pardon MY ignorance! ๐Ÿ˜€ I have no clue. For a long time, I wondered if this could even be called a poem. Apparently, poetry has some sort of structure – even so called free verse. Rhyme ,meter.. – all beyond my tiny brain.

  5. Not may lovers have I had, but these electronic ones from you make me want more. Thanks, I am enjoying your blog.

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