Category Archives: Women -as we are!

Re-visiting; Re-reading.

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. 

3 Day Quote Challenge; Day3.

This is my last quote and since I have made it all about women, why diverse from it on the last day. So, I will share another quote from a beautiful woman flaunting only more how more powerful we are than those men. (Men, no offence, but we are.)

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Need I say anything more?

Yes, we are powerful, we are strong and we can do whatever we want. Just because sometimes, we listen to the emotional side of our heads more, does not mean that when required we will not pick up the swords and run on that battlefield to crush our opponents, whoever they are women or men, friends or foes. (Just saying!)

Three Day Quote Challenge; Day1.

I have been recently nominated for “Three Day Quote challenge” by the_aestheticspirit from- https://ecstacy49.wordpress.com and Natasha Tungare from- https://natashatungare.wordpress.com

The quote I am going to share is something that I read recently and have no idea as to who has written it, but I must say that I stand by it, 100000%. Some might agree with me, and some might just not stand to even give a little thought to it. But I will share it no matter what.

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I don’t need to say anything else.

To The One Who Dreams

Because I am feeling a little dreamy today,

Because I am reading something too beautiful today,

Because everything is too good to be true today,

Because I believe; today:

to-the-girl-who-reads-by-flashlight-who-sees-dragons-28807347.png

 

Labour Day!

India is celebrating labour day today and as usual my phone buzzes with messages and wishes of ‘Labour day’, as it happens on any specific day or festival. Most of the companies have started this new trend these days, to send texts and images to everyone celebrating and wishing almost every calendar day.  And even today, I did the same with those texts, opened them and simply ignored them. I don’t know why but I am just not very much attracted to these general, yet very formal messages having no personal touch, and I avoid those texts and images which clutter and fill my phone’s space. Most of the times I don’t even download these images, knowing I am going to delete it just the very minute. Call me rude, but what can I say, I do this and I admit it. If it helps, I do write the person a very formal ‘same to you’ in return.

So, today when I was cleaning my phone gallery when a certain picture caught me. I hadn’t even seen who sent me the said picture, but it got into my nerves and had to find out who sent it. Some of you might get the humour, but I didn’t.

The picture that ‘he’ (The fact that it is a he is significant here) sent me with the caption “Happy Labour’s Day” is below:

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I don’t know, I was just not in the mood or what, but I didn’t like the relation. The concept that a man is a labour for a woman just doesn’t get in my head. Never!!!!

I didn’t say anything, didn’t react but I played the game and sent him two different pictures with the same caption.

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This sure enraged him. “A woman is never a labour…… she is always respected by good men….. why do women have to always turn this on us…… why can’t they take humour…….”

I laughed my heart out after this, it was hilarious him blurting out. When he did it was fine, but when I did it, it was ‘women always turn it on gentlemen”.

Not sure who couldn’t take the humour. Me or him?

I Am Done!

I am done.

I am done trying to prove myself,

I am done trying to make myself heard.

I am done trying to prioritize others,

I am done listening to those others,

I am done trying to fit in,

I am done fighting for every little thing,

I am done dealing with those emotions,

I am done with all the toxic potion,

I am simply done with it all,

Now, I simply don’t care, like me or not.