Tag Archives: Women -as we are!

An Unwilling Bouzouki

Sitting on chairs in proper alignment

It seems a long ago, when we students were huddled about,

Celebrating India’s independence was the days’ requirement

Making our English teacher proud.

 

Constantly, we had chided and pleased

To do something else as a substitute to teach,

We did it often, played adventures

Making memories after memories to one-day treasure.

 

She decided she’d ask a question to the vibrant youth

To which we would answer with sheer truth.

With defined wisdom she asked

“How will you want to see your country at long last?”

 

The question she asked was very simple

But it created in my mind a momentary ripple.

I raced with my newest friend, over thinking

Sitting there paralyzed, unblinking.

 

Speaking up in front of people was never my thing

And so I sat there; to time clinging, worshipping,

But we were only thirty students

And I persistently fought against my prudence.

 

Smiling, nodding I heard what my friends had to say

Pondering, how meaningful answers they had their way,

From eradication of poverty to building roads

To making luxury cheaper- their thoughts flowed.

 

And in less than forty minutes I was called on stage

When all I wanted to do was hide in a cage,

What is my favorite teacher going to think about my dumb thoughts

But still I erased blank, and joined the dots.

 

With face turned hot, ears red

I held the mike, but my lips dead.

I gathered myself, blinked and blurted

What my teacher thought- was the secret of my being introverted.

 

“If I live to be an old maiden

I want myself in the world (not country) to reawaken,

I want kindness; I want honesty and no chaos

I want peace; I want beauty and no havoc.

 

I fumbled; I fidgeted and put the mike down

Ashamed, I got down feeling like a clown,

I went to my seat, hiding my face

Wanting the few minutes to retrace.

 

Up until then I hadn’t herd

The deadening applause,

And so I sulked deeper amidst the nerds

For such words, I thought definitely had no cause.

 

Years from that day, I stand by those words

But if only I could change my verse,

Or better still I could have at least tried

To say everything for which my heart cried.

 

That day is gone

But I have a little strength now,

I have a little word play drawn

Perhaps, you’d tap with the button ‘Allow’.

 

If I live to be an old maiden

I want myself in the world (not country) to reawaken,

I’d love to see so many blessed things happen

That life itself would feel like a welcoming wagon.

 

If only I could find things a little different

My little sister would have taken birth for starters,

Or I wouldn’t have to be constantly belligerent

Being an orthodox Indian daughter.

 

I wouldn’t have to go to an all-girls school

Fearing boys and all the various rules.

Comparing myself to those who didn’t even go to school

I should have felt my life a little less cruel.

 

I’d want my grandmother to give me a kiss

For I never knew that bliss,

Or for my uncle to not give me that stare

For it was mortifying, I swear.

 

I’d want for no one to give me an eye

When I say I don’t want to learn cooking,

I’ll have different means to fly

Than just making all kinds of pudding.

 

I’d want a life where my mom does not persistently say

When you get married please take care of your husband,

Darling, you are not suppose to go astray

For your in-laws will have us trusted.

 

I’d want a life when I wouldn’t have to think some things

Like what can I study, so they never cut my wings,

Or how will I mange so many responsibilities

Work-husband-in-laws-kids-kitchen- a trillion little things.

 

I’d want a life where everything will not be ‘my’ duty

And I won’t have to be an absolute bouzouki,

Yes I’ll want peace and love and no havoc

I’ll want kindness, honesty and no mental chaos.

 

I’ll want a life where I consistently don’t have to remember

That I am a woman and somehow, somewhere I have to surrender,

I’ll want a life where I don’t want to stand in front of the mirror

And see incessantly how from him I differ.

 

Today, I have a little strength, a little clarity

So, please allow me to speak my dwarfish insanity,

If I live to be an old maiden

This is how I’ll want to end my cadence.

 

*

PS: Do tell me if I have started saying the same things again and again, and if my words have started being mundane! 

 

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The Mystical Pishogue.

I am meek

I am mild.

I am an emblem of docile.

 

I am innocent

I am polite.

I am an insignia of comply.

 

I am submissive

I am conceding.

I am an image of yielding.

 

I am sweet

I am honest.

I am a metaphor of a lonely forest.

 

I am kind

I am tolerant.

I am of all these, a conglomerate.

 

I am I.

I am what I am.

A fable in a flesh.

 

I am I.

I am what I am.

A conceited allegory in oneself.

 

Her Mysterious Meshuga.

There is a whirlwind of chaos inside her

An entropy, a madness, a little emptiness

That ceases her sanity from within.

The mania, the frenzy, the wilderness

All a part of her nugatory existence.

 

The deadening disarray enchaining her minds

Building a claustrophobia

Which you may never succeed to define.

The restlessness, the anxiety, the neurosis

All a part of her woebegone reality.

 

She is imprisoned betwixt the chain and its steely embrace,

She resides inside the merciless bolt and clasp,

And yet she has the zeal to envisage dreams,

To live in a reverie, a trance, a ravishing fantasy,

Her weening tenacity terrorizing her pandemonium to feebly vamoose.

 

 

The Disguised Innocence.

She was walking alone, dazed, on a torturous esplanade

Fighting battles that she didn’t know existed within,

Shaky, confused, confounded

Adrift amidst her own gloomy labyrinth.

 

Having abandoned her modest attire

The saree, the simplicity, long discarded,

Adorning herself in skirts, she became a voracious liar

Determining to no more forsake her heart unguarded.

 

With an extra layer of seething gory kohl

She strived to camouflage her inner sufferings,

The dark lips concealing the agony, the rage exalted at a knoll

While her innocence, her honesty;

Secretively yet commandingly tumbling.

 

She thought she’d garner and hoard her emotions

Pretending to be strong, while her insides shivered,

But her eyes failed her miserably deceiving all notions

Pulling her into an emotional whirlwind blizzard.

 

She was determined to make herself be loathed

Pining to remain abandoned, isolated and lone,

Yearning for no one to heal her soul

Hardly discerning that in a stance he’ll come

And all her aches will be enthroned.

 

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The Betraying Eyes.

Walking down that lane

An identical cup of coffee in hand,

Her captivating smell brushed my senses

And I just fell in love.

 

A crop top and a snuggish denim skirt

Defining unpretentiously her grimacing smirk.

Hair curly and wild, and on her feet some ragged sneakers

Elucidating the most mundane, screaming through her sharp features.

 

Kohl smeared and black smoldering eyes

Screeching the unknown and the hidden lies,

Oh, what with the black luscious lips

Without any trace of a smile, makes my heart flip.

 

The rage, the hatred, the agony quite visible

All making her to me, surprisingly irresistible,

Her secrets, her valor, her daunting self

Making me feel like a fustian elf.

 

She didn’t win me over with her mysterious meander

I melted into a glaze, by her dark loathful candor.

I stood there; fiery; lost; engulfed

And just like that I fell in love.

 

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A Dormant Warriors’ Wound.

My father’s friend

His brother,

Whose daughter

For me a complete stranger.

 

A 19 something girl

Docile but not fragile,

A smart intelligent girl

Who was just beginning to rise.

 

Staying in an urban city

Away from her parents and family,

She was inching towards her dream

Wanting her achievements to scream.

 

One wintry day, she caught a fever

Nothing much, may be just cough and cold,

A week went by and she lost consciousness

Her family flew to her in all concomitance.

 

A few days in the hospital

And al fell well,

She came back with a little wiggle

To spend some time with family and friends; just like a Belle.

 

A one moth went by

Laughing and living,

And she was preparing to bid god by

Giving slightest thought towards existing.

 

But wait what________

Hospitals and ambulances and doctors and nurses?

Blood freezing in the brains?

Paralytic attacks?

 

But, wait what_________

Coma, you say?

Mind not working

But the heart beating?

 

But, wait what________

The heartbeat stopped?

The body fell rigid

And_______ The End!

 

The father shocked

The brother denies

Her mother

_____She simply cried.

 

Words and consolations are provided

But how could it ever work?

Pity and tears were shared

But the family from inside- was broke.

 

I didn’t realize

Why did it affect me so much?

I had never even met the person

Then why did I lose myself and cry?

 

It bothered me so much

It shook me so much,

I hid myself and cried

I didn’t know how her folks even tried.

 

But the cliché says- the show must go on

But they say- a woman is too sentimental,

But they say_ we draw others troubles and make them their own

Why do you want to mend yourself when the

Wound is not your own.

 

And so I smile

I gather myself and I go to work,

Doing about everything without a murk

But adding to my heart yet another mark of vile.

 

But the wounds is not my own

So I must be left with a little brawn,

And so I begin again to walk the paths of unknown

Welcoming what He next throws from His throne.

 

And because, it was

My fathers’ friends,

His brother, whose daughter

For me a complete stranger.

 

I am just a little shaken

And I know I will reawaken,

I just cannot begin to think

Of the horrendous gloom on them befallen.

 

But since it’s not my wound

What have I to lose_____

She, to me was a complete stranger

But I hope for her to be her own avenger.

 

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This NAPOWRIMO thing, great so far, I mean to say I am enjoying it. But there is something I have to say now. More like get it out because I can’t keep it in anymore, and also I think if I get it out and share with everyone else, I might as well take things seriously. So last November, I don’t know what happened and I started writing poetry, just for the sake of writing them and many of them still remain unpublished. But Come Jan, I decided that I will try and write one poetry every single day and may be after a few months I will have something I will want to publish, more like I will try to publish. So far, I have stuck with the resolution, of course poetry doesn’t flow every day, but still have stuck with the plan, going against it only occasionally. I really, really want to publish something I write, I don’t care if it’s published by a publishing house or it is self published, but I want that to happen. As I say this now, here, only to make myself more committed towards this, so that I start taking it more seriously. nothing else.

So far, the poetries that involved the Napowrimo, (Except this one) were meant for my book, so if you have read them you can tell me if at all it could ‘EVER’ amount to anything.

In true anticipation of your reviews!!

And please be as much critical as you can be. I will work on whatever is wrong with my work, or me 😉

Her Altruistic Mien.

Have you ever seen a heart

Who has love, unconditional?

Have you ever met someone

Who has given herself so benevolently?

I have.

And I keep meeting them.

Whenever I talk to a woman

Every now and then.

I meet her in an infant daughter

Who is innocent enough to believe,

That her father might leave her midway

Given she did not comply with his portents.

I meet her in a young sister

Who gives up every thing,

And bears with her parents’ anger

Only for that miscreant little brother.

I meet her in a teenage daughter

Who makes friends with her mother,

Shares her first heartbreak with her

And one day she leaves everything, to be just like her.

I meet her in an amorous wife

Who loves and lusts her husband,

Blending into his family

As milk into sugar.

Her past lay behind

Shedding tears every once in a while,

She calms down herself

For breaking down has never served right.

I meet her in a doting mother

Who serves her child first,

A tired body she might own

But love will still that child own.

Day and night, she will take care

Of children she brought as their own,

Leaving behind her own dreams

She nourishes her family’s soul.

I meet her in a grand daughter

I meet her in a mother in law.

I meet her in a grand mother,

I meet her in nieces and aunts.

I meet her, and I will keep meeting them

In every woman who lives as a woman

Who comes into life

With learning her first words as ‘sacrifice.’

I meet that foolish soul

In every other woman,

Who gives more momentum

To emotion than reason.

I wish they’d know how to live

With ‘EMO-SON’ as a feeling,

May be then they’d never end up

With that senseless feeling.

But what could she do

For her heart’s in the right place,

All she wants is her people whom she loves

To be happy and full of solace.

Of course she is an ignorant fool

For she has lived a forfeited life,

Her loved ones will comply

Why did she surmise?

She cries and sheds some tears

Every now and then when she loses her endurance,

But she lifts herself up,

Finding valor, from I know not where?

And she is back with her giving self

While I wonder how much is left for her to give,

Will there be a time where she’ll be herself left with nothing but pain

And all she’ll have in return is a disgusted look in vain.

How much could a person give after all

How much love can a heart bore?

How much repugnance can one take

How much can she after all bear?

How does a soul carry itself with so much weight,

How can a body live with so many burdens?

And yet I see them, I meet them

All live paradigms of seemingly insane individuals.

I meet them. And I keep meeting them

I just wonder, sometimes,

Have you ever met such a foolish creature

Or is it just me who sees beyond the rational measure?

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Ps: Only, sometimes it feels like it is just not worth it, to give so much of love, and ‘selfless service’.

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