Category Archives: Women -as we are!

Her Altruistic Mien.

Poetry has been a consistent part of my life, first reading and then writing. Though if someone would have said that I could try writing poems, a year back, I would have rolled my eyes and said, “Yeah, right!” Not that I have become very confident of my pieces, but I have come as far as trying to share them and be judged.

A few days back one of my poems got published in The Indian Periodical titled The Sea and today I am back with another of my poems which has been accepted for publication in an online magazine called Merak. I am thrilled. Not that I am suddenly very confident of what I am doing with these poems, but I am happy.

I am sharing the link to the poem below. Though some of my readers would have read it as a part of NAPOWRIMO which was again an amazing ride, I will be eager to hear from you about the piece.

Her Altruistic Mien

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The Thing About Boys & Men.

I am bored. I mean not that I don’t have anything to do, but I am just bored. Bored with stressful working, with useless studying, with meeting deadlines, with assignments, with reading, with writing, practically everything. So I keep finding new things to do. Now, I haven’t been very successful with it, but I think I am obligingly eating people’s head with my tantrums. But I guess I am so bored that I get bored with that too. And hence, I keep finding things like reading short biographies of inspiring authors, what they have done, listening to music I have never heard before or going out to new places. Now, that last thing that I said is more useless than the word ‘useless’ can signify. Living in such a small city comes with its dirth of new and exciting places to go to. So, I am left to be doing only two things, reading and ranting. I could say I am just writing but I know my writing is not writing, it’s only a rant, a cribbing rant with no solutions which a set of very few loyal friends will read and tell me that it is not a rant and they liked it, but I know better than their kindness.

Just one such rant, actually, a very furious rant with a failed attempt of humor was written after an impulsive decision and was mailed without any eidting. I regretted it the minute I sent it. Honestly, I did. But very surprisingly, the local supplement of Times of India weren’t offended by my rant and they published the column all the same.

I am happy.

Today, I am not bored.

I am sharing the picture below.

Because today I am not bored.

I will rant and keep you bored.

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I’ll Be A Good Girl….

Ah! This is such a wonderful sight

Away from all heinous plight.

Amidst the bed of roses

Smelling the smell of happy doses.

 

The two girls playing

Dancing and swaying,

Happy, serene

Jovial and green.

 

I love to see them

I also want to be them,

Playing with my brothers and sister

Oh, won’t I have a brother or a sister?

 

Or, do I have someone

Already waiting for me?

A daughter or a son

Already your honeybee?

 

I will be a good girl

To you, to everyone,

Like an obedient schoolgirl

With a sweet tongue.

 

I will play and eat

Will be your only heartbeat,

I will dance and learn

And shine like a Christmas fern.

 

I want to see you

See my father,

I want to be you

Given away at age, by my father.

 

I want to live life

I want to have friends

I want to thrive

I want to go through life’s all bends.

 

But I understand

All in good time,

For now I need to be in this dreamland

Your womb being my partner in crime.

 

But it is getting dark

And I am feeling cold,

I’ll complain to grandma

Please return to our home.

 

You understand me so well

I just thought and you already did,

Walking gracefully like a belle

You succumbed to your beautiful kid.

 

But wait are you sure this is the way, mamma?

And why are you burning like a sauna?

But again who am I to judge?

3 months old, who knows not much?

 

But where is this mamma?

This is not our home.

I don’t see your comfy pajama

This is not where you roam.

 

Why are you lying in this small, rigid bed?

You need to be comfortable instead.

Who are these people in white?

Why are they shining the light so bright?

 

See, this is already hurting

You and me too.

You are twisting and squirting

They are letting the pain brew.

 

What is this?

What is happening?

What are they doing?

Why are you crying?

 

It is paining me too

Piercing me through and through,

I want to live and you are so cruel

You killed me, and my dreams accrual.

 

God!

Forbid!

Stop!

Have pity on me!

 

They are cutting me

My tiny legs and hands,

I want to flee

But the pain is killing me.

 

You killed me, mamma

How could you do this?

I am speechless

I am breathless.

 

You killed me for I was a girl

Is it so big a sin?

Then why was I called a pearl

If I was merely a skim?

 

If this world is such

Where you kill your own blood?

Then I am happy to have lived an innocent life

Without a sinful crime.

 

I have a question before I go

How does it feel to make your own kid a foe?

I know this may not be only your wish

For I have heard the constant surrounding whish.

 

But all the same I die

Without an answer for ‘why’,

I bid you adieu

And may girls never come to this life,

If everyone is like you.

****

This will be the last post for #NaPoWriMo. Somehow I ended up writing this last poem imitating the very first thing I ever wrote, like the very first time I put pen to paper, and though novice it’s always been close to my heart. I am attaching the link to the post, for I am certain I shared it in my blog at some point of time.

Were you not a girl, Mamma?

Also, my heartiest thanks for all you readers for sticking through the entire month of April, for your amazing and honest reviews, and for constantly just showering love on me and my immature poems. THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!

 

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Melancholy.

All you vain dreams

As short as a mid summer night

Swift; fleeting; lonely

Bestowing me with nothing but melancholy.

Fierce as a loving woman’s anger

Sweet as the kiss of a passionate lover

A bell at dawn; a parting groan-

If only I’d be wise enough to see beyond it.

 

The Arrested Fear.

I am sitting

Huddled among my friends

Or beside my love

But I am sitting

And I am laughing, talking.

I am happy.

Or so I thought-

For I was sure, sitting

But I was alone

Where did he go?

Why did the people leave me?

I was confused

Scared.

And then I saw someone

A pair of innocent black eyes

Walking towards me

Callously strolling,

A flicker of smile

Spread across his handsome face.

His bare chest

Trailing down to a carved V

Ending right above the

Loose white pair of trousers.

His pace quickens

And his eyes aren’t innocent anymore.

His smile isn’t handsome anymore.

And I get up and run.

I run.

But where do I run?

Somehow, I am on a five inch wide railing

And he is walking on it,

Towards me.

But I can’t walk.

I can barely stand straight.

He is walking.

And I am freezing.

I realize- I need to get away

And so I shut my eyes

And jump.

But there is nowhere to jump.

There is no railing

There is no falling

There is nothing.

But then where am I standing?

I open my eyes in a hurry

To find all blurry.

He is still walking towards me

And I am still there

Somewhere!

I need to run, I remind myself

So I run.

I am running back

To there

As far as I can see

And he is inches away from me

Devoid of any hurry

But full of innocence

And if there is innocence

Then why am I running away?

But I run.

I still run

Panting

Tired

Without a sense

I run.

There is a pleading noise from behind me

But I am so scared

I still run

And then there is nothing

Except for a log jump

Off the elongated sky

And then there are

Stairs.

So I run off them

Two at a time.

I keep going down

I run without a breath

Devoid of a thought

Panting

Sweating

Trembling

With fear.

And after about a hundred stairs

I am blocked.

There are four walls

No doors.

And I beat myself against each one of them

None moves.

I try again.

I am terrified.

Horrified.

I am tired.

I here a meek laughter from above

But I see no one.

There is nothing.

And I am trapped.

But how am I trapped

When there is nothing?

Yet, here I am

Eyes aghast

Fear gripping every inch of my body

The faint innocent eyes hiding

My soul writhing in agony

The dream subsiding the depravity.

The Glorious Madness.

Like a cloud of fire

I soar a little higher

In the burning light

Of that sadistic sun.

Sinking-rising-

Burning the golden lightening

In the broad of daylight.

He fears not-

Throwing the silver arrows and spheres

In the dawn- quite clear

The dusk, a little dear

He springs, trying to cut my wings

Amidst the shade of rainbows- I hide

Unwanted- unbidden

Not to shed a tear

But only to gather my very madness.

He knows not what I am

A cruel, blithe spirit

Rejoicing in the love that I bore

That from my lips would flow

And so like a lonely cloud of fire

I soar a little higher

Ignoring the fountain of pain

Basking in the glory of triumphant gain.