Tuesday, 29 December 2015

Oh So

He has lightened up my path through out the year.
When I went down and under,
He was there to take me up by hand,
At times when I would have found myself curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor at two am,
Like previous times.

I love him.
More than I can comprehend.
I remember the time I told him that I did.
I couldn't hold it in nomore.
I tried to swallow the words,
But they clawed their way out
"I love you" they flew out like birds outta the cage.
It was done.

He held the staircase for me to go up,
Up till I reached the white lights.
Urged me on till I went over the brink,
But I didn't fall as I feared,
I flew,
And soared.
And landed in his arms.
A delicious soreness spreading all over my body.

He has taught me things.
He has done to my body, things
He has done to my senses, things
He has allowed me to experience things.
Things so beautiful.
Things so amazing .
Things so delicious.
My Oh So.

The staring contest.
I lost.
I was lost in the maze in his gaze,
Which showed paths that led to his soul.
I was not ready.
But I was gone.
The kisses that followed.
Surprisingly soft lips.
I could feel him smiling.
The smile and the kiss tasted like that golden sunshine, with a dash of honey.
It made my knees weak and heart beat from between my thighs.

We were lost. In each other's arms.
Kisses becoming more passionate.
I felt like clawing out of my skin,
And crawling into his.
To have his soul and mine meet,
They did. Over time.
Collided. Created beautiful white lights no pyrotechnician has ever made.

 We get lost, watching the diamond like stars strewn all over the beautiful dark skies ,
I'm lucky I'm able to watch stars even during the day,
I watch my star,
Alpha Centauri, shine.

His mind is a crazy, beautiful place.
Y'all heard his voice when he raps?
Sexy. When he talks to me in that voice, I become undone.

So sincere. I swear sometimes he ain't real.
Hands so soft but can spank all gasps out of my being.
And firmly get all handled.

I can be silly with him.
Goof around and have a genuine laugh.
We can be serious together and plan ways out of hard situations.
He is my caretaker.
So thoughtful,
When I get drunk stupid,
I wake up to a bottle of water next to me, courtesy of him.

Plus. Mama likes him. She does.

Wednesday, 18 November 2015

May we never lose our magic

He is Peter.
I'm Wendy.
We are in Never Neverland.
Tinkerbell-cum-Cupid gave us magic.
I hear it in our longing sighs.
I feel it in the air, like electricity, when he enters the room.
I taste it on his lips.
It tastes like beauty. Rainbows. And the amazing rays of the setting sun.

May we never lose our magic.
May we never lose the wonder we see in each other's eyes.
The whitelights our souls ride, hand in hand.

May we never lose our magic.
May we never leave Neverland.
May our lips never stop seeking out each other in the dark.

May your arms always feel like home.
May Steel be my shelter.
May Silk soothe you.

May I never lose the excitement,
When I lie on your chest and listen to your heart slam against the walls of your rib cage,
May my heart always flutter like the wings of a captive bird, everytime I hear your voice,
May you always look upon my face in that way that makes me feel loved.
Don't stop biting your lip in that way that makes me cross, uncross and cross my legs.

May we never lose our magic.

Monday, 12 October 2015

Murky Waters

The person who abused me,
Was not a stranger,
We had ‘grown up’ together,
Knew him, I guess that is what made it more difficult.

He was charming.
Was a talker.
Laughed a lot. Joked a lot.
Some people say he was a good child.
Well, you cannot usually tell if a person is abusive or not. They hide it so well.
Smiles to the public. Sneers to me.
A pat on the back to outsiders. Slaps and punches in my head and face.
Honey dripping words to the world. Stinging remarks to me.

I loved him.
Also grew afraid of him. His flares of temper. The iron of his fist hitting against my jaw.
The salty taste of blood that followed.
The yanking of the hair.
And the blinding pains that followed.

My pleas went unheard.
Some of his people watched. Not helping.
Beaten to a pulp.
Lord forgive me but sometimes in my sleep I thought of doing the same to him, or more.
Yet I knew I did not have an ounce of violence in me.

Threatened to cut up my face once,
So that no one would want to look upon my face.
Told  me over and over again that if I left him,
Nobody else would want me.

Lost confidence in myself.
Became a husk of my former self.
Went to him for approval yet he cut me down every time.

After everything was said and done,
He told me that he loved me.
I failed to understand though,
How a person who claimed to love me slap me so hard when I ‘woke up’ from my black out there would be blood caked in my ears,
How a person who loved me would humiliate me in front of his friends, calling me names.
How a person who loved me would lock me in the house for days.
How a person who loved me would beat me to a pulp with an umbrella by the bus station.
How a person who loved me intercepted a message from a potential employer and cussed him out so bad that they gave the job to someone else.
How a person who loved me tried to grab me by the neck from a commuter omnibus through the window.
How a person who loved me would do so many hurtful things in my eyes he became a monster.

I blamed myself.
Tried to retrace to day one.
Tried to figure out where I had gone wrong.
I always blamed myself.
Grew bitter. Withdrew from my friends. Defended him in front of my family.
Till my mother realized that if she did not act, I was not going to leave.
Kept telling ma that it would get better.
Her words were “I can’t lose you. You can’t die.”
She told him, “I only have 3 children, I am not losing one of them to you.”
I left.
Glad I managed to make peace with him and forgive him before he died.

Monday, 10 August 2015

Alpha Centauri.

The sky is inky black tonight. Breath-taking.

 Like diamonds strewn across black silk, the stars adorn the sky. Awe-inspiring.

All stars are competing with each other, on who can shine the brightest. Beautiful.

But my eyes are drawn to one particular star.

Its light is not glaring.

It seems to be glowing from within. From its depths. Amazing.

The steady glow of this one star dims the light from all the other stars in the Centaurus.

Alpha Centauri.

My Star.

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

soul so numb.

my soul so cold.
tears hanging as icicles from the ducts.
salty icicles.

    My heart, a captive bird,
    Flapping it's wings wildly,
     I can feel it slowly breaking,
      The shards  are dropping to the pit of my stomach,
       What eerie echoes the shards make,
        What haunting echoes,
the echoes sound like my soul gasping for air.

I'm scared.

  Lord I cannot breathe.
            I cannot see.
the salt in my tears is stinging.
the more I try to blink away the tears, the faster they are falling.

on to my writing pad....blotting out these letters I'm feverishly scribbling.

I cannot breathe.
I do not want to be here.
I want mum.
   I wanna put my head in her lap,
allow my tears to roll down without shame,
blow my nose and make the ugly crying face, and CRY.

Yet I do not want to upset mum. I can't.

Red lights, screams in my head.
my soul so numb.
my soul so cold.
My Soul So Cold.

Sunday, 28 June 2015

And then I know, I have arrived.

I hated sex.
I mean, I did not look forward to it.
You know, that type of sex where after you climax, you crash back,
Not to earth, but below,
You hit rock bottom,
You feel like scum,
You do not want to cuddle,
You do not want a second round,
You do not even want to imagine that you actually went through with the first one,
Where you cannot wait to escape to the bathroom,
Sit underneath a scalding shower, scrub yourself raw,
Removing all evidence of the act.
Felling empty, used, depleted.

That one person who scarred my soul,
The one who led me to hate the act,
Never gave me a chance to be comfortable in my own skin,
Never gave me a moment to express how I wanted it,
For him, it was about power. Power over; power to,
Power over me, and power to have it whenever he wanted.

No kissing.
No foreplay.
No appreciation of me what so ever.
Just him groaning and grunting till he reached his heights and collapsed over me.
I learnt this art of extracting my being from my body,
Numbed my senses so I would not feel anything,
In would stand outside my body and watch.  Thrust. Hurt. Explode.
My soul wincing.
Sex with lights off.
Cause my body image was constantly trashed.
No moans. Moans would turn into frame wrecking sobs, the sound of my soul dying.
Dead Pan face.
No emotion. No clinging to anybody.
Just clock watching.
Counting minutes.

But now….
I have come too far,
Not only in the terms of sex,
Not only in the terms of being comfortable with my body, and with another body,
No longer self-conscious of my body,
Petite as I am
(He constantly said I was skinny, wonder why he just would not go out and fuck some random thick girl if he could not  handle my being skinny. Turns out he did went out and did it, not only once, or twice.)
Blamed myself,
My body shape,
My body size,
Thought maybe if I had a little more derriere,
If my bra cup size was a D maybe,
I f my nose was not flat and wide,
If I had a wider girth,
Or maybe not.
Took me a whole lot of stumbling,
clinging to a toxic person, Melancholy, Depression, suicidal thoughts,
A close shave with death, my scars (I’ve become to embrace as part of surviving),
To learn that my body did not need to change,
I was me, complete, enough, whole, worthy, amazing and beautiful in my own way.

Above all it took me finding love.
finding someone.
Sanity in the midst of chaos.
I am not saying he is perfect.
All I am saying is he has been a great part of my healing journey.

God knows I have never really felt like this.
Breaking into a grin for no reason.
Because love is reason enough.
Does amazing things to my soul.
Does amazing things to my body.
Does amazing things to my entire being.
Lord knows where this is going.
Lord knows how long it will last.
All I know is I am glad I have had a chance to experience such magic from simple things,
Fitting into the puzzle of my essence perfectly.

And another thing.
Love making is not a duty,
Its poetry.
Goes beyond what the bodies feel and need.
Souls reaching out to each other, with the back drop of rainbows and whitelights,
On golden celestial wings,
Hitting the highest notes
And crashing back to earth,
And see the most amazing emotion in eyes boring into my soul,
And then I know, I have arrived.

Friday, 19 June 2015

I know you by name,

I know you by name,
No, not by the name your parents gave you,
That’s for other people out there.

I know you by the name I gave you,
I know you by the name I groan and gasp out when you push me to ecstasy and beyond ,
I know you by the name I sleepily mumble during our night calls,
I know you by the name I scream out in mock shock when you grab them groceries.

I know you by the name I have saved your number under my contacts list,
I know you by the name my eyes spell out when I look at you,
I know you by the name the core of my body whispers when I’m in your arms,
I know you by the name I 'absent-mindedly' scribble around the margins of my notebook during meetings.

I know you by the name I laugh out at my highest,
I know you by the name I sob out at my lowest.

I know you by name,
And I am taking this name,
And that which you gave me,
And create a portmanteau,

And by that new name, we would be known!

Monday, 1 June 2015


You touch my soul with your words,
Caress it with your smile,
You say my name with your eyes,
Your skin hoarsely whispers ‘Come close’
My pride, feline as it is, on all fours,
Paws padding on the bed-linen, gracefully moves closer.

As you place your heart as a pendant on a silver chain around my neck,
I can feel your hands on all the places you are not touching,
The cold from the silver chain coupled with the heat from your breath,
Your nearness,
Your scent,
Get me all heady,
My heart starts beating from a different ‘core’. Throbbing.

Kiss my essence, leave your lip-marks on my brain,
Them booty rubs and grabs,
When we dust them groceries for fingerprints,
We will see how well you have marked your territory.

Tuesday, 26 May 2015

Dark Days

There are days when you don’t feel pretty, sexy or beautiful,

Days when you do not feel whole, worthy or sure,

Days when there is a dull ache in your chest,

Days when even your best mascara will not make your eyes pop,

These days when you cannot face the world,

When all you want to do is to crawl back into bed and bury yourself under the covers,

Days like these are hard,
Days like these are bleak,

Days like these are dark……

Book 6: A book a friend recommended

A poignant, heartrendingly beautiful story about magnificent loss, great love and the strength to pull through. If I Stay by Gayle Forman is one compellingly gripping book, recommended by my friend @Ruee_kayy_, one I could not put down, one that made me shed tears as I read it.

A tale of Mia Hall, a 17 year old cello player based in Oregon,who, in the split of a second lost her mother, father and younger brother in a road accident that left her battling for her life. 

She had lost all, and her grandfather and rocker-boyfriend Adam told her that they understood if she gave up on life, they could not reverse what had happened but were willing to be there for her all the way.

Tear-jerking, evocative. This book will make you realize how fragile life is , how our loved ones can be here this second and be gone the next. It also reminds one of the power of love… when you are about to give up all yet you have a loved one to pin all your hopes and love onto.

As they say, Read it and weep.

Wednesday, 6 May 2015


That your smile,
Laughter and the flames flickering in the depths of your eyes,
May put them in a glass,
And on this lazy golden afternoon,
Drink them up with a straw,
To quench my soul’s thirst.

That crimson sunset from your glowing skin,
May I bask in it too?

The magical rainbow in your soul,
A burst of colour in my life,
Is making me fall over and over in love with you.

That your Steel scent,
Makes me want to snuggle closer,
And melt into you,
Melt into you,
And melt onto you,
The same way the chocolate of Silk’s essence will melt
Melt onto the hot canvas that bears the mural of the LionHead,
To be Oh-So-slowly licked off till Silk’s Scales tip,
Touching the Stars of the LionHead,
Till they are WhiteLighting!

Monday, 6 April 2015

Please don’t let go …

Let me sleep at the bottom of your ocean;
I swear I won’t choke,

Cause you took my numbness away,
And taught me to feel again,

Made me touch all the planets,
Without having to leave earth,

Helped me to take down my walls,
So my soul could dance next to yours,

You say my name with your eyes,

Please don’t let go …

Thursday, 26 March 2015


White lights!
From the distance, I can hear you cuss and say my name,
As if from a distance too, I hear myself scream your name,
The screams are muffled by the pillows,
I'm rising, 
You are rising, 
We are soaring!
White Lights!

I can't bear it no more, 
"Baby NO!"
You say "Say 'YES!'"
"Baby NO!"
"Say 'YES!'"
"Baby YES!" "Baby YEAH!"
White Lights!

Totally lost our minds now, 
Sweat. Racing hearts. Heavy breathing.
We still soar... Yes!
There! Yeah! There!
SOAR!White Lights!

Beautiful White Lights!
What planet are we on now?
Can we stay here?
We still soar!
Break through! Shatter barriers!

Then tumble down to earth!
I find myself in your arms,
Limbs cramped,
But a delicious type of soreness,
I rest in the crook of your arm,
Listening to your heartbeat slow down, 
Listening to your breathing normalize,
Such bliss. Such peace.
Let us cuddle.

Monday, 16 March 2015

... these words

... these words I'm afraid to utter,       
 ... they are burning my palate,            
   ... scalding my tongue,                
    ... tried to swallow them back,                   
     ... yet they are scratching the the walls of my throat,                       
       ... punching and kicking the insides of my cheeks,                          
         ... i feel their fingers jabbing at my gum,                               
            ... still  I clench my teeth,                                  
              ... cause I can't let them go,                                       
              ... for if I let them out,                                          
              ... i'd be putting my last card on the table,                                              
             ... and this card is showing red hearts,

                                                    ... i won't be able to unsay them ....

Monday, 2 March 2015

Book 5: A non-fiction book

Leonardo da Vinci by Maurice Brockwell

"Everyone laments the loss of a man whose like Nature cannot produce a second time."

A very short book, this was. Finished it in less than 12 hours. Was so happy to stumble upon it, since I have always been fascinated with Da Vinci's works, especially Mona Lisa and The Vitruvian Man, it was a chance for me to get to know this man behind these great pieces of work/art.

The book starts from Leonardo di Ser Piero di Ser Guido da Vinci's birth, to his early training under Andrea del Verrochio, his early works (including The Annunciation which now lies in the Louvre and another Annunciation painting lying in the Uffizi Gallery), his visit to Milan entering the service of Ludovico Sforza where he painted the 'Vierge aux Rochers' which now lies in the Louvre.

In Milan he attempted to work on the statue of Sforza, making little progress. He also  (may have) painted the lost portrait of Cecilia Gallerini, one of Sforza's mistresses.

There are stories of Da vinci spending years under the Sultan Of Egypt, travelling in Armenia as his engineer then returning to Milan as general artificer where he began to work on the 'Treatise Painting' and Francesco Sforza's statue, which was then destroyed by the French in 1500.

Other works featured in the biography include 'The Virgin of The Rocks', the 'Last Supper' which he painted for the end wall of the Refectory of the Dominican Convent of S. Maria delle Grazie at Milan, 'The Head of Christ' which now lies in the Brera Gallery, Milan, the presumed portrait of Lucrezia Crivelli, now in the Louvre and the portrait of Mona Lisa,  which now lies in the Louvre.

Lisa di Antoni di Noldo Gherardin  aka 'La Joconde' is the lady behind one of Leonardo's famous art works, the Mona Lisa also known as 'La Joconde'.

After residing in the Vatican under Giovanni de' Medici as Pope, studying acoustics, geometry, engineering, anatomy, optics, geology, three years before his death, da Vinci moved to France. On May 2, 1519, he passed on.

"Mr. Lionard de Vincy, the noble Milanese, painter, engineer, and architect to the King, State Mechanician " and "former Professor of Painting to the Duke of Milan"
May God grant him His eternal peace." 

Book 4: A book that became a movie


by Elizabeth Gilbert

"A soul mate's purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…"

This is one of the many quotes I loved in this book, one text which hit some strong chord in me. 

The way Elizabeth writes is so different from the previous three authors I've gone through in this challenge. Like Anna Karenina and Gone with the Wind, I struggled through this book, the same way that Liz struggled through the 182 verse Gurugita, breaking a sweat because sometimes I identified with some of the internal conflicts she was going through.

Reading this book made me feel like I have also traveled to Italy and enjoyed seeing all those fountains and eating all that pasta with Liz; made me feel like I have been to India, living at an Ashram, with my own guru, meditating and rising through those seven chakras to a point of enlightenment; that I have traveled to Indonesia and lived in the Utopian Bali and fallen in love with a handsome Brazilian man.

The balance we soo need in life, the happiness we so want, it just does not fall in our lap. We work hard and incessantly for it. 

       "Balance is not letting anybody love you less than you love yourself."

"To lose balance sometimes for love is part of living a balanced life."

"Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it. You must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it."

There are other quotes I kinda related to, had to go through them over and over again. Well, in reading books, you learn that you are not alone, and that nothing is new under the sun. Somebody has been there before, somebody is there right now, and somebody is going to be there some day....

"I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with a man himself and then I hung on to the relationship for a long time waiting for the man to ascend to his greatness. Many times in romance, I have been a victim of my optimism."

"To feel physically comfortable with someone else's body is not a decision you can make....the mysterious magnet is either there ,buried somewhere deep behind the sternum,or it is not."

I am yet to watch the movie eat pray love (yeah, yeah, yeah, had to read the book first), I am looking forward to it, more because Julia Roberts, my favorite actress plays Elizabeth.

I loved this book. A lot. :) The ending is also beautiful. Liz works through the pains of her divorce and her break up with her lover David and finds a lover, Felipe, who is ready to be with her always.

Wednesday, 25 February 2015

I wanna.....

I wanna do all crazy silly things with him,

Go on a road trip to the middle of nowhere, 

Kiss in the rain,

Watch the sun as it rises and burst into a golden ball,

Look in awe at the inky-dark sky with diamond stars strewn across,

Watch the sun as it sets and burst into a crimson flame,

Hug, fondle and cuddle,

Visit a bookstore, steal kisses in between book selection,

Visit an art gallery, visit a museum, visit an old city, visit a historical place,

And face our fears together!

Wednesday, 18 February 2015

The Lady and Her Muse

There is this fever....
That the lady caught from her Muse...
This sticky,
                                             moist fever....
She needs no remedy from.

There is this craziness...
The Man got from his Muse...
This beautiful,
                                      Yet light madness...
He needs no cure from.

The Lady... And her Muse,
Who In turn has also made the Lady his Muse,
Shaping each other's pieces of art,
Turning their quickened heartbeats into beautiful poetic rhymes,

                                 Steel. Silk

               The imagery. 
 He said it makes his mind run...

It is thoughts about him,
That she allows to drip as ink from her quill,
Into a beautiful piece of poetry.

The Lady and her Muse,
The Man and his Muse, Mural bearers!

Sunday, 15 February 2015

the 15th

Have you ever had a fantasy,
Then have reality come out better than your wild imaginations?

Don't know if Juliet felt like this with Romeo,

Don't know if Rhett's kisses made Scarlett O'Hara this intoxicated.

Everything  felt so normal,

                  felt so perfect,
                       so beautiful,


Both beautifully intertwined,
Heady kisses,
Bodies pressed together.

The softest lips,

With a hint of liquor there,
Claiming my lips,
And mine hungrily claiming them,
The more we kissed,
The more I wanted to kiss,
Breaking for air,
Smiling in between kisses.

Felt the steel under my touch,

When I spread my hands on his chest,
Feeling his heart slam against the chest walls.

Had to go...

Didn't wanna go....
Had to go...
Yet we still clung to each other,
One last time,
One more,
The lips are saying no,
Claiming each other...

Gotta leave.....

Tuesday, 10 February 2015

Book 3: A book from an author I've never read before

A Cardinal Sin by Eugene Sue

A Cardinal Sin, by Eugene Sue,a 19th century French novelist, felt like a sermon disguised as a story centred around the lives of two young lovers growing up in the poverty of 19th-century France.

The pace of the plot is too fast for my liking and I was somehow left feeling like Sue just scrapped at the surface of the book; I did not get much depth. Well, maybe that’s me.

The train wreck and the deaths which occurred at Versailles did not move me that much ; the diction there felt too luke-warm to drive me to tears.

In his brisk manner though, Sue  tried to put across this story  of perseverance and romance, centering  on avarice, one of the Cardinal Sins.

Monday, 9 February 2015

Book 2 : A book based on a true story

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath - six moths into a young woman's life

Sylvia Plath has always fascinated me, from the few poems I stumbled upon, to her quotes. Most of them were so dark, sad and raw. I chose The Bell Jar, a thinly disguised autobiography by Plath so I could understand this woman behind these cutting yet brilliant pieces of work.

The Bell Jar is about Plath's , (portrayed as Esther) twentieth year happenings. This book had me thinking: How one can have all the material things they need in life yet something could still be lacking. Esther worked in New York City, meeting the glamorous people, was on a scholarship, a mother back home who provided a roof for her head, yet she seemed to move around the world as if she was in a daze.

The Bell Jar helped me understand a bit about mental instability issues from the angle of the afflicted.

It is heartbreaking how Esther was so preoccupied with death;
cutting her calf so she could bleed to death;
wanting to slit her wrists and  carrying around razor blades for that;
quizzing Cal about how he preferred to die;
how she wanted to hang herself but failed for the ceilings in her mother's house were too low;
how she wanted to swim till she was too tired and then drown;
how she, in the end, resorted to hiding in the basement and taking her mother's tablets.

Through out the length of the text, Plath threatened to break my heart when every time Esther thought of dying or attempted to kill herself and when she eventually left the asylum for the world, I was relieved. Yet my heart ultimately broke when Plath, portrayed as Esther, separated from her husband and living in Europe with her two children, with her poetry coming off well, at the end succeeded in taking her own life. ---___---

Plath had written in the last optimistic pages of The Bell Jar : "How did I know that someday-at a college,in Europe,anywhere, - the bell jar, with its stifling distortions wouldn't descend again."

She had escaped from the bell jar once, when she left the asylum in America yet the bell jar had descended upon her, in Europe.

The theme of death is so thick in this text's air. From the mention of the cadavers as the book starts, the dead flowers in the maternity ward, Esther 's visit to her father's grave, Joan's suicide.

Plath's diction is raw, somewhat crude. Calls a spade a spade and does not romanticize things like marriages, or childbirth and even when she describes how Esther and the other girls in NYC suffered from food poisoning.

So glad I read this book. So glad I did.

Thursday, 5 February 2015

Book 1: A Banned Book -

Scarlett O'Hara. She is the same age as me when the book comes to an end,  yet she has gone through so many tribulations than most people my/her age. Losing two husbands to death, losing both parents, surviving the Atlanta siege,surviving General Sherman's troops at Tara, miscarrying , losing a child to death, then at the end, being left by her third husband, the only man she realized, sadly when it was too late, that she loved.

This book, Gone with the Wind, all 884 pages of it, after A Prayer for Owen Meany and Anna Karenina, has been the most difficult book I have gone through. Too cutting, too poignant. I mourned the death of Bonnie. I grieved the demise of Rhett and Scarlett's marriage.

Margaret Mitchell's book is on number 26 on the American Library Association's List of the 100 most-banned classics. Some say it was censored because of the use of the 'N' word and the portrayal of blacks in the 19th century.

I find the violent role and nature of the Ku Klux Klan was romanticized in this classic, with Mitchell using characters like the noble and gentle Ashley Wilkes and somehow 'spineless' Frank Kennedy as the members of the Klan who only wanted to fight for their women's honour against blacks and the Republicans.

There are tones of issues in this book that 'rattled' me including...

1. Marital rape. When Rhett Butler was enraged and had his way with Scarlett whether she wanted or not.
2. Slavery - how almost all the Southern rich families owned 'darkies' at their plantations and were against the freedom of the 'negroes'.

I'm still digesting the whole book. Sad that I came to the end. Wondering what became of Scarlett back at Tara. Wondering what became of Rhett Butler. Wondering what became of Ashley now that he had lost a wife.

The most cutting and apparently famous quote in the book is the one uttered by Rhett towards the end of the book "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." in response to Scarlett's tearful question : "Where shall I go?What shall I do?"