Category Archives: Women -as we are!

The Biting Truth!

This is something weird.

This post is a simple compilation of a few news articles, which I have come to read in the last week starting 27th of July.

27th of July

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28th of July

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30th Of July

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31st of July

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1st August

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2nd August

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3rd of August

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And since I missed one day in the midst, I will compensate that with something I read online, which if it is true then my friend, I am not sure where we are headed.

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Do you have anything to say on this?

I know I am not doing here anything worthwhile, because the place where I am even trying to spread the word, is decent enough and full of chivalry. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t!! And honestly, sometimes I feel helpless about it. I mean everyday I open the newspaper and every single day, without fail, I read something of this sort, something related to molestation, some news related to harassment, some news relating rape, some cases, of rape, bondage and murder. And my friend, if the last pice of information is true, which I am hoping against all hopes that it be untrue, then I don’t know where we are headed, I seriously don’t.

Yes, I am old school, and I still read newspapers, instead of apps, but that does not prevent me from coming across some other famous cases going around which somehow don’t hit the newspapers. But the point here isn’t newspapers, the point is, that these things are happening. And I am pretty sure that only few reach the headlines, even fewer reach the newspapers, and even very fewer reach to the police. and sadly lesser than all of them are solved, or acted upon.

If someone is going to say that this is only in your part of the world, then I am seriously going to lose it, because that will be a simple lie. It will be. There is no place, no city, no village, spared here. Agreed, some states have higher ratio of harassment and molestation cases than others, but the point is not less or more, the point is it is still there!!!

What do I do?

As of now, I know I will do what most people here will say, to look into the brighter matters of these cases being solved. And I will. yes, why not? Didn’t I just read that a student speaks up agains her teacher? Didn’t I just read that a man was sentenced for 10 whole years for brutally raping a minor, a child, who might never come out of this trauma? 10 WHOLE YEARS!!!! Now that’s progress. Didn’t I just read that a woman cried for help from a moving car, when her husband and she both were in trouble? She screamed for help, now that’s progress, for before women were even scared to open up about such instances, and would drink away all her remorse. Didn’t I read that a 17 year old’s rape was recorded, may be someone will somehow know the recorder and will get to him, surely May be!! And of course there was a death penalty for a man who raped and murdered his teacher. Sure there is a positive side to it all. I agree and I will look into it my friend. And of course will not forget to remember that a pregnant goat died too, because it was gang-raped by a few men!! (I still can’t just digest this news.) What good what is it doing any ways to our society?

But yeah, coming to the positive side to all of it, yes, I will look into the positive sides, and see how we as a human race are progressing.

Cheers to our development, and evolvement.

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The Time I’m My Period.

Just the other day I shared a very powerful poem ‘Half World’ by a Telugu poet, and here I am today, sharing yet another AMAZING piece by a Tamil writer K. Geeta. Again I had to find the translation in English to read it, but here it goes.

The Time I’m My Period. (I am not sure with the title, my translation version says so.)

When the whole body is frozen into an abscess

When a private mount explodes silently

I make efforts vain to catch the pain in my grip

All of a sudden it gives a jolt

I in myself, solid becoming liquid

Then become a solid again

And then shattered to pieces.

Every month, having no other go

I transform myself into pain

Dead

Unable to plaster the wound that would’nt surface

Unable to grind the ribs into powder

Even unable to draw myself into a bundle of cosy sleep

Embracing the thirty-six hours of turbulence

Unable to remain a forced untouchable

Walking forward a few paces in civilisation

Becoming gasping leaps and sprints

Desiring to flatten the spine on the anvil

Toying with the idea

To bundle this bother with chains of iron

Again and again, once in every thirty days

Taking rebirths one after another

The period when crushed in gut-twisting agony

This period …

The problem does not lie only when people shy away with the topic, but even today their are many myths and beliefs associated with it. Not going into the details much here, I’d safely say that those beliefs should not be thrown on women, it’s on them if they believe in it or not.

Even today we have people who shy away with the topic of menstruation, and it is indeed a powerful poetry that I strongly stand by. Some people tend to take it so casually, never understanding the amount of pain that a woman’s body goes through and those hormonal changes which she is herself unaware of, in those days, every single month, almost her entire life.

Marrying Myself!!

Okay, I know the title itself might have made you think that this crazy lady has gone lunatic beyond all means, and now is literally declaring herself as insane and frantic over this blogging platform. But when you wake up in the morning to find this as a piece of news in your morning paper, you tend to certainly get excited. I mean all my woes would end if I did this 😀

I know this is all getting out of hand now, me rambling utter nonsense here, and declaring my marriage with myself. But just think of it, if you could do this, I mean just think, there would be no problem whatsoever; no more issues relating someone else, no more trust issues, no more dependence on someone else no more expectations from that someone else. (And the list goes on for me) Oh, I’d do anything for this.

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So, legal or not, I am going to follow the footsteps of this wonderful lady (though not over some break up) and do it, one day. I will stand there wearing one hell of a beautiful dress and say those promising vows to myself and might as well go on that most awaited trip that I might be desiring for so long. I am telling you, I’ll do it, just, one day.

And you all are cordially invited on this ‘one day’

The Subtle Irony Of Being A Woman!

Hello fellow bloggers and readers,

Today, I am thrilled.

The only reason for this is, a dear fellow blogger, PSEUDOMONAZ had invited me to write a Guest Blog Post for her page, and she has accepted and published my simple and very plain thoughts. She has a category “On the other side of silence’ where she posts wonderful pieces of writing concerning women. Do, visit her.

This being my first blog post, I am ecstatic.

Now, without boring you much, I will share the direct link to the post here, and if you do get a chance to read it, please let me know what you think about it.

https://pseudomonaz.wordpress.com/2018/07/27/on-the-other-side-of-silence-the-subtle-irony-of-being-a-woman/

Thanks!!

Half World!

Reading Indian Writing, I came across a wonderful Telugu poem. Unfortunately my lack of knowledge in language, forced me to read the English translation.  Nonetheless, it definitely reached my favourites.

I could not find it over the internet, but I take the liberty to share the translation here, which I found in a Pdf file.

 

Half World

Arthanareeswara – half woman, half Eswar

You say, or, half of the sky

Both sound the same.

Cleaving the globe vertically into two

Half light and half darkness

Darkness is only the shadow of light

That’s the lesson taught at school in childhood.

 

Three rooms in our home:

Drawing room, bedroom, and kitchen

One half is mine

For my hubby the drawing room

For me the kitchen

For us both, the bed

Responsibilities we share half-and-half

Bearing the baby mine,

Giving the family name, his.

 

When dusk falls

Shivers in the spine

Wailing hearts

On being raped

As though rising from graves

Before lamps run out of oil

Spent matchsticks

If these snigger and tease

If wan and feeling wretched

The differences aeon-long

Are those of light and dark.

 

Groping in the dark

Claiming half world as mine

How long can I feign Urmila’s* sleep?

Not in the answer sheets in the exams alone

For life too should a margin be given.

Life should be securely held and protected:

Even from the one to whom the heart is given.

 

(*Lakshmana’s wife in the Ramayana. She spends all her life in sleep during his exile.)

 

-S. Jaya

This reminds me of so many poets, Plath, Kamala Das… And all I can do is read this again and again.

 

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!)