Re-visiting; Re-reading.

Posted byMoushmi RadhanparaPosted inKeep Smiling :-), What they said!, Women -as we are!Tags:, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I read this following poem time and again, very often, so often that by now I have most of the lines by heart and yet I do not get enough of it.

How can I? Because every time I read this, it gives me, well I won’t say new insight but the very same old feelings that I live with. The feelings are always there, they are ever present, only they come out or I let them come out not too often. These are the feelings I live with, most women live with.

Though there are some days when they flow so rapidly that I fail to control them, or give them a direction and on those days, I read, I read anything, and everything, I read poems, novels, stories, plays. I read this poem all over again.

Today is one such day, and I will share this once again. Because, I am flowing, I am hurting, I am smiling, because it’s all mine, because I am I.

An Introduction. 

I don’t know politics but I know the names
Of those in power, and can repeat them like
Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru.
I am Indian, very brown, born inMalabar,
I speak three languages, write in
Two, dream in one.
Don’t write in English, they said, English is
Not your mother-tongue. Why not leave
Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins,
Every one of you? Why not let me speak in
Any language I like? The language I speak,
Becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses
All mine, mine alone.
It is half English, halfIndian, funny perhaps, but it is honest,
It is as human as I am human, don’t
You see? It voices my joys, my longings, my
Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing
Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it
Is human speech, the speech of the mind that is
Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and
Is aware. Not the deaf, blind speech
Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the
Incoherent mutterings of the blazing
Funeral pyre. I was child, and later they
Told me I grew, for I became tall, my limbs
Swelled and one or two places sprouted hair.
WhenI asked for love, not knowing what else to ask
For, he drew a youth of sixteen into the
Bedroom and closed the door, He did not beat me
But my sad woman-body felt so beaten.
The weight of my breasts and womb crushed me.
I shrank Pitifully.
Then … I wore a shirt and my
Brother’s trousers, cut my hair short and ignored
My womanliness. Dress in sarees, be girl
Be wife, they said. Be embroiderer, be cook,
Be a quarreller with servants. Fit in. Oh,
Belong, cried the categorizers. Don’t sit
On walls or peep in through our lace-draped windows.
Be Amy, or be Kamala. Or, better
Still, be Madhavikutty. It is time to
Choose a name, a role. Don’t play pretending games.
Don’t play at schizophrenia or be a
Nympho. Don’t cry embarrassingly loud when
Jilted in love … I met a man, loved him. Call
Him not by any name, he is every man
Who wants. a woman, just as I am every
Woman who seeks love. In him . . . the hungry haste
Of rivers, in me . . . the oceans’ tireless
Waiting. Who are you, I ask each and everyone,
The answer is, it is I. Anywhere and,
Everywhere, I see the one who calls himself I
In this world, he is tightly packed like the
Sword in its sheath. It is I who drink lonely
Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns,
It is I who laugh, it is I who make love
And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying
With a rattle in my throat. I am sinner,
I am saint. I am the beloved and the
Betrayed. I have no joys that are not yours, no
Aches which are not yours. I too call myself I.

Kamala Das. 

Published by Moushmi Radhanpara

A bilingual writer, Moushmi Radhanpara has authored three poetry collections so far, namely POSIES and 03:21 AM –An Ode to Rust & Restlessness, and Resignation of an Angel. She is also scribbling an unplanned rough draft of a story as a part of NANOWRIMO 2020 and hopes that something might come out of it. She has also co-authored two books, The Lockdown Stories and Mirage so far. Her poetries can be found on her blog https://aestheticmiradh.com/ and a few other online portals. She believes in the fact that a better reader makes a better writer. Reading a 100 books a year is her latest obsession. She can be found either drunk on coffee or hiding away from everything and admiring the gorgeous sun.

32 thoughts on “Re-visiting; Re-reading.”

      5. Yeah..in that happens in magnetic and electrostatics..in real life compatibility matters..you have to chose who will be in rappo with you.. they have to understand your tastes and interests..

        Liked by 1 person

  9. Stunningly beautiful lines..

    So true it’s always I that rules.. somewhere this is the story of so many girls..the turmoil they go through.. no one to share..when u seek love u end up in lust when u seek care u end up in hate..

    And in today’s world men also face these problems.. just that they are still considered the strong being..

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  11. Im still dazed while im writing this comment…the lines are percolating through my mind and coming out and each time leaving me with a part to think about…. a perfect example of how an incredible poem would affect one like a drug…no wonder you take its help in times of need! I read this and then kept my phone down and kept looking out of the window trying to feel each line! Such a stark reminder of the condition of women and how they feel and how they want to be actually…..but perhaps for everyone who has been repressed since childhood and made to follow orders all along…made to live a life of others and not what one wanted! Maybe im not supposed to be affected by it but I actually am! As i could feel the suppressed and yet open and biting thoughts which accurately describe the state of women’s issues and sentiments and infact it’s true for anyone fighting for his/her own identity and rights but has been mocked and suppressed throughout. Thank you so much for sharing another gem!!!!

    Liked by 1 person

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Your perception holds importance for me.

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