Woman

I am convinced woman is not a human
I am convinced.
She must be made of clay and paper
Forever mouldable
Forever weighed
Forever written in
(With no words of her own)
No speech
No tantrum
No opinion
(Her adulation compared with her silence)

I am convinced a woman is not a human.
I am convinced.
She is pitted against each of her own
Like mad bulls.
Sometimes beauty
Sometimes fidelity
A man’s disgress being always pointed
To a woman’s folly.

I am convinced a woman is not a human.
I am convinced.
She is made to fit into sizes and labels
Counted by dowry not degrees
Skin tone and measuring scales
Recipes and confined spaces.
All to be born with a pleasant demeanor.

I am convinced.
I am convinced a woman is not a human
She is a toy for the world to do as they please.
Think less
Talk less
Do more
Silence your mind for all you know
For the doll given to you as a kid
Is the woman you ought to become.

A letter to my 3 day old sister

Dear baby,
I wonder what your world will be!
You’ll outlive me by a whole 26 years
I wonder what all you’ll see!

I have seen a tiny, tiny virus
Outsmart mighty, mighty empires
And our little wicked schemes
Taking down a rat’s race that thought itself bigger than nature’s scheme.

I have seen forests consumed by hell-fires
But nothing more consuming than desire
Of harrowed men trapped,
In a never ending stream of wanting.

I have seen faith,
I have seen love,
I have seen all you can,
And what to do when you cannot.

I have the felt the fresh breeze off mountain ranges
I have dipped my soul in holy Ganges
When I have washed off my sins,
I have added his name afresh.

The one that still makes me feel a million things,
Yet let me tell you
Most boys will break your hearts
Even if  butterflies and unicorns – are what you feel in the beginning.

But you’ll always stand,
Taller than ever,
Your heart will love harder than ever,
And at the end of it all, you’ll fall in true love – the one with yourself.

I have seen friends
I have seen friendship
Sometimes both seem different
I have wondered why it is.

I have had family though,
Mine and ours,
Standing by when noone did.
Cause blood respects blood but water takes the shape of every vessel it’s kept in.

Respect everyone,
Expect from none,
And maybe when you live another year after year,
You’ll thank your sister who lived 26 less, albeit happily.

Let them fly!

People close to me know that I own a parrot. Not many know it’s origins though. We never bought it. It came by itself – flying and got trapped in the loft on our terrace – there was an occupant present, a guy who lived there then – who took the bird, bought a cage and kept it in that. In the evening when he presented the parrot to us, we were on the verge of freeing it, but my little sister who had taken a fancy to it; and quite a small child at that time, couldn’t be shushed – so stay with us, it did. My sister grew up and over the years her fascination with the slowly aging bird diminished. I am quite fond of the bird as well, even though it has bitten me several times in trying to befriend it; but keeping a bird trapped in a cage hurt my conscience – so, after considerable thought, I decided to set the bird free. I have this evening ritual, where I go up to the terrace, sit on the ledge, watch the sunset and contemplate. What I did was take my parrot alongwith me, as well. I would rest the cage on a surface and open it’s door and walkaway, continuing with my business, hoping that it would fly out. To my disappointment, it didn’t. This went on for days. I tried calling it out; luring with mine and his favorite Marie gold biscuits, but it won’t budge. One fine day, it even came up to the gate, and slammed it shut on my extremely astonished face. I gave up! It had got used to it’s bondage. It deeply saddened me.

When I think of Indian women, the ones occupying the nitty gritty of the country – I see a woman who has got used to the bondage. The pattern of behavior and character mould set by years and years of patriarchy. These are not the women twisting the definitions of feminism to suit their demands for a twisted lifestyle. These are the ones deprived of equality. These are ones who do not question why the entire load of household falls on them. Why they are made to feel an outsider in the home they were married to, made their own but didn’t own them in return. These are the ones who are not allowed to enter kitchens and touch items during menstruation. These are the ones who are silently molested, raped, burnt, violated every single day in some or the other part of the country with no hopes of justice. These are the ones not allowed to love; flogged, tortured, killed or made to succumb to demands of family honour. These are the ones who bow their heads while someone decides how their life should be lived. These are the ones who are handed out a sentence of marriage; while their careers are considered unimportant. These are the ones struggling for basic human rights to live while their urban sisters ignore and raise a hue and cry over extramarital affairs, polygamy, ‘free the nipple’, and other shit. These are the ones who are trapped in a cage, and will soon forget how to fly.

Let’s free them, before it’s too late; before they forget how to fly. Let’s free them and watch them soar – equal with men, or even higher – they can decide the altitude of their flight; but first, let them fly!