I’ve been going back to the days of love,

To the days of sun, making us play,

To the evenings so cool, making me whole,

I’ve been going back to the time spent together,

And it hurts,

And it reminds me of pain,

How love pains,

I’m getting away from it,

Losing my faith,

Shunning away from it,

Bit by bit, piece by piece,

I’ve learnt to stand tall and feel the breeze,

Not letting him get to me,

I’ve learnt to stay with another face,

To the time that was happy,

To the time that was just ours,

I’ve been going back to the days of love,

And it reminds me of pain.

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Fe-male

It is how when you simply fall in one category of gender and how the world begins to take away from you, one human right at a time! How women are percieved as a product, ready to be consumed, how they can not go beyond an image of a pretty, beautiful, always smiling, flowery girl, who is always ready to sacrifice herself and her needs for the man in her life-be it the father, partner, brother, the boss, how a debate led by a woman during a family dinner is usually ignored, or not being taken seriously, how it all comes down to rape threats and other sexual violence, it is how a woman is simply narrowed down to a box in which you threaten to deposit your sperms everytime she begins to break the mould you’ve set for her. It is how the world is consistently telling you how to be a “girl”, the times change-the marketing campaigns change. Earlier you’d have a woman in a kitchen for the marketing, now you have a woman in a boxing ring, strong headed, who gives no fuck. Another image of another girl, another story that tells how to be a female. A divine image of a woman who is fighting for the rights because she is always the victim to the problems of the society! What if you like to embrace the vulenerable side of you that is not as fit as the athetic beauties,not as divine as Maa Kali and what if you are okay, depending on a man and still feel fine? What if you want to be a human and not a “WOMAN”? Nobody tells you exactly why you have to help your mother in the kitchen whenever somebody visits, while your brother can just play videos games, while he can have the right to talk back, a girl shouldn’t. She is judged for the little things-how she easts her food, how she runs, how she drives a car, how she laughs, how she sits among people, how she dresses, where she goes, at what time she goes, who she goes out with, what she drinks and what she smokes! These basic things that are ingrained in the soceity later lead to the bigger gender issues such as rapes, lack of consent, harrasment, low pay at work, dowry, making it a fact that women are a second gender, and a liabilty to the family. How the conversation is always centered around how the victim-the girl should’ve done things differently, how is it that we or our elders rarely talk about how men should behave, and not try to control everything around them? It is not okay to tell your girls that it is not safe to go out, and never telling the boys to learn how to respect the other individual. It is not okay when girls can’t get education because the family has to save for her wedding and her dowry. It is not alright to know that marital rape is legal. It definitely does not feel okay to read the headlines stating that a 3 year old got raped by an older man.
It’s 2018 and it is still so exhilirating to simply expect respect and freedom, while a man can get it so easily, everyday.

The house of flower

As I was passing by a street,

Looking for the idea called life,

I was faced by the idea called insecurity instead,

A beautiful curiosity,

The myth of why,

I got to have only one flower,

While a house had a garden,

I didn’t want to be envious of it,

After all the flowers were wild,

And the house deserved the nature’s blessing,

While me on the other hand,

Was a man made product,

Consistently trying to correct itself,

Stand in elegance,

And fall in a delight,

Wanting to be perfectly cut like a diamond,

Kept in a case,

Be presented to the one and only,

Be presented as a solitaire,

Maybe I didn’t deserve the flowers of that house,

Maybe I only deserved the petals of the flower that fell from that tree,

The flower that fell from the tree,

What a sight!

Eyes are eyes, Vagina is vagina

It is how the safest place for you to be, can turn out to be the place where you end up feeling the most suffocated at. The place where you cherish your laughter, childhood, silly pranks, innocence and how it can also turn out to be the place where you buried your consistent cries for help, silently wishing somebody would understand how it would feel for an eight year old to be touched, somebody who has no knowledge of even their body parts. Two hands to draw, to paint, to build, two legs to walk, to cycle, to run, to fall, a tongue to taste that tempting dessert, a stomach to digest, a nose to smell the flowers, lips to make a smile, or put your mother’s lipstick and act like an adult, two glittering eyes to see and appreciate the world, two ears to listen to your parents, teachers and sometime to the little bird in your garden. Perhaps telling children about their sexual parts, giving their sexual parts appropriate and correct names was not the correct approach. While as children you could have been taught about the rape culture, molestation, catcalling, sexism, and how to not feel like a second gender, you were in fact taught about the outfits you would wear, the colors that would match your gender, how to be an ideal child who does not answer back, who does not lie to their parents. It was focused only how to be a child who was good at athletics, academics, had a good general knowledge and who would obey their elders, whatever the situation may be. While your parents were busy getting you ready for the rat race, somebody tried to grope you in school, a sibling pushed their fingers inside you, and an elder raped you when everyone was away, and you were asleep. It was that time when you find yourself uncomfortably with someone who’s getting something inside of you, inside of the place from where you urinate-and you don’t know what that place is called. It happens almost every day, every night, it happens when everybody is gone and it happens whenever and wherever this person finds you alone and it happens when you are with everyone. From having to sit on a dinner table, in a classroom, at a café with friends and laugh with the one who kept raping you for years, to making yourself believe that it does not matter and it does not affect.
A lot of sexual violence cases go unheard when someone is not able to communicate the event to anybody else. Many children suffer sexual abuse and as a parent, you simply never get to know. During childhood, kids are being taught of the body parts, but there is no mention of their sexual organs. Even if it is mentioned in a biology class later on, you will hear giggles and feel shame. While it is easy for a child to talk about how she/he fell and hurt their knee, it is almost impossible for them to come up and talk about how they were being catcalled, molested or raped, to their own families. It is a conversation that merely any parent has with their child, but it should undeniably be an important discussion between the two parties. Instead of giving a vagina or a penis a cute or a vague nickname, it is necessary for the parents to break the taboo and let their kids know about their bodies completely, let their kids know about the anatomical names so that they do not destigmatize their body parts. This will give them full ownership of their bodies, instead of making them feel ashamed of having a vulva, a clit, or testicles. To give your child a language which is healthy will only help them to understand that it is not bad or dirty to talk about it. It is important because it helps avoiding the confusion and makes the communication effective, and eventually makes them feel that it is alright to talk about your private parts. It is required because they need to know that their bodies belong to them and they should make well thought decisions concerned with them. This is the way empower your children, adding one power at a time.
When you become the source of the answers that their inquisitive mind has, they will not have to find some other source to get their explanations.

The sunflower

It was probably the way they lived their lives, that they forgot about how essential it was to stop in that afternoon to watch the sunflower tilt towards the sunlight while it trembled and unlifted itlsef and moved and danced to the tune of the sun in a harmony that couldn’t be felt, music that was unsung in my town. 

In my town we had different rules, we had fear, we had rare laughter, motivated by other’s interests. 

In my town we forgot to understand how beautiful it was to slowly grow, grow for yourself, so I’ll meet you on the outskirts of my town. That’s exactly the place I meet myself, talk to myself, and as I sit with a heavy heart, I can’t stop thinking about the things which makes the tears unstoppable, but life’s better on the outskirts.

I watched the sunflower trembling, and I knew it was growing. 

WRITE

Beauty defined by the words,
Meanings derived by the the men,
Honor divided between the legs,
Respect given by the people who least deserve it,
Sleepless nights and no directions,
Situations reaching out to me,
like I’m reaching out for you.

Goodnight

There had to be a thing about the nights,
while we sobbed all night,
the moon came down to tell me it’s alright,
but the night still wrapped me in the sadness and took it away,
while we danced with the remorse all night,
the stars shone bright,
but suddenly there was no light,
while I missed you tonight,
the memories stayed beside me to tell me we had more time,
but I knew the hate would kill it all,
while the life stood between it’s course,
our breath waited for a while to live a life,
hope stood for the morning light.
There had to be a thing about the nights,
it made me kill myself tonight.