Eternity #E, #AtoZChallenge,

Sitting in the stark white hall with fluorescent lighting, Sureshan saw the scenes of his life flash by. School was a distant memory now. All Sureshan remembered  was a petite, fair and demure girl who always sat on the first bench. She laughed with a twinkle in her eyes and his heart missed a beat.

Theirs was one of the best schools in Mumbai.  The city’s rich and famous pulled all strings to get their kids into Scottish High. They both were privileged yet grounded. He found himself attracted to her simplicity and serene beauty.

A studious boy he didn’t indulge in the antics and pastimes of the rich spoilt brats. The great old school library was his haven. Now a tall, well built and handsome man, as a boy he was  shy but always had a pleasing personality topped with intellect and compassion.

He wanted to become a pilot in the Indian Air force and was focused on his goal right from the beginning. School and then NCC was his passion in that order. He followed both with devotion and became what he wanted to.

Last year when he had seen Ruchita in that coffee shop near the school all the memories had come flooding back. They were all here for the 8^th reunion of their batch and Sureshan was attending it for the first time. Ruchita was still the same petite and demure girl. She had looked more sophisticated and stylish yet a little offbeat and too thin. “Must be dieting “, he had thought, “all young women these days took their fitness seriously, sometimes too seriously”.

He had suddenly felt butterflies in his stomach. He had been looking for this girl since he was commissioned. He was in love with her since school. He had always known where she lived when and was glad when he found out that her residence was still the same yet he didn’t have the guts to approach her.

In the coffee shop that day they just exchanged a hello and then were swept away by their respective friends. Amit, his best buddy had noticed the furtive glances of both.

He knew Ruchita well . He offered to help but told Sureshan that it won’t be easy. Sureshan was now flummoxed . “Why?”he asked.  Amit said, “ Ruchita herself will tell you.” 

A meeting was arranged. Parents met and the wedding date was decided. It was a fairy tale wedding on a cruise.

Today was their last day of honeymoon. Ruchita was crying and Sureshan was wiping her tears. “I told you it won’t be easy”, she said. “Who wants easy? I only want you”, joked Sureshan. Lets go and get it over with.

The ambulance was waiting at the airport. Her chemotherapy was to start immediately. She only had a year or so to live. He was prepared to love her for eternity.

His eternity was limited to the corners of her mouth when she smiled and the twinkle in her eye when he said I love you.

DayDreams #D, #AtoZChallenge

A warm wave in the cold dark sea

With undercurrents of bold heat

You have transformed my storm

Into a vibrant hued happy rainbow

A promise of sunshine and warmth 

Of blue skies,fair weather and love

You have unfurled my drooping sails

To steer me towards the horizon

A new course with promise of adventure

My vessel rises and falls with the waves

And you have roused in my barren heart

A daydream lasting for a whole lifetime 

The poem above is for my dear husband. He is the most important relationship in my life. He is someone who holds my ship steady and life in balance, someone who gave me so much love and care that I forgot all my troubles and who made me discover that life is not just struggle and strife. He is calm and a content man who has his head in the right place, a perfect foil for a volatile me.

Sometimes all the pain in your life is wiped off with a single loving kiss. I love you Navin for being my panacea.

Choice #C #AToZChallenge,

Nor the first choice even

before coming to the world

Choice is not a word for her

A mere tool that others use

She doesn't get to choose

Her clothes, her school

Her food, her husband

Her home, her vocation

She is chattel to be sold

Does that sound like cattle
Ask her, She even feels the
Same; beat, used and sold

Used like a farmhand
Cook, nurse, maid, whore
A son production unit, Again
Unable to choose a daughter

Belonging #B, #AtoZChallenge

No , she doesn’t own the house

Not the one she was born in

It’s her home but not her house

They said she will have her’s soon

But turns out, that too isn’t her house

She is the home maker yet

It’s his house, he owns it

Now he is dead and she is out

The farm she tills till her back breaks

The house she runs and slogs over

The shop she helps in, morning to evening

Nothing is hers, she doesn’t own it

This poem above is the story of women all over the world.

Inheritance and property rights give women the power and agency to assert themselves.  In a 2012 poll of gender specialists around the world, India was voted the worst G20 country in which to be a woman. It was ranked worse than Saudi Arabia, where women can’t legally drive and were only allowed to vote for the first time in 2015. (https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/oct/08/india-divorce-man-cruelty-western-thought-in-laws.

 It’s important that not just laws but custom and social practices are also scrutinised and change be brought about to truly empower women all over the world.

The homes they are born in and build should also belong to them

Abused #A #AtoZChallenge

Finger prints on her cheeks

Red shadows around her eyes

Nails tattooed on her back

And a plastic smile on her lips

A scarf to cover the “love” marks

Some foundation for the bites

A pill for the noise in her head

And a soothing salve for the bruises

The night’s footprints covered

With a morning of apologies

She gets up again and begins

Her daily drudgery of life

Hoping for a single elusive

Night of peace and sleep

Hoping to find courage

to break these fetters and fly 

Conversations Galore #AtoZChallenge

#ATOZChallenge #ThemeReveal

My first wholehearted attempt this year at the A-Z challenge and I have decided a theme which isn’t at all unique but is nonetheless a burning one.

Women and their Relationships

Women and their relationships: with themselves, their significant others, their children, families, there work and nature. It goes without saying that it will be mainly in context of Indian Women ( Women around me, known to me and women I have been able to observe and maybe sometimes about myself)

Women around the world have come a long way, still there’s a longer way to go. Within this struggle we have always held on to our traditional roles while making new roles our own. 

This juxtaposition and the changes it has brought about as well as the changes still needed, will be the main ideas I would be dealing with.

Posts may be in the form of poems, stories or just an article. The style may be satiric, romantic and even humorous but always with a feminist bias.

So wish you happy reading and blogging dear fellow bloggers, my followers and general reader. I will consider this exercise successful if it impacts even a single person.

Ghar

उसका घर मुझे नहीं अपनाता
उसके लोग मेरे नहीं हैं 
वो मेरा घर नहीं है
मेरा घर भी मेरा नहीं था
ऐसे तो क्या वो मेरा नहीं है?
या फिर मैं ही कभी किसी की नहीं हूँ?

Zakhm

मेरे ज़ख्मों का होना
उनकी समझ के परे है
सिर्फ कह देना की हाँ
हम समझते है बहुत नहीं है

मैं अपेक्षा भी नहीं रखती अब
के उन्हें दिखे वह रेखा जो
मेरे गाल पे मुझे महसूस होती है
अब कुरेदने से भी डरती हूँ जिसे

वो कैसे जानोगे के क्यों
वहां बाजू पे अब तक भी
काँच किरचता है सूखे ज़ख्म में
जब मैं खुद नहीं जानती क्यों

Hearts and Wounds

A deep wound over-healed

When it was left unstitched

Then glued itself back with time

But grew into a strange new lump

A shape ugly, repulsive yet distinct

Forever reminding me of a bad day

Do hearts form similar lumps?

Or are they stronger than our skins?

When You Leave

When you leave
I lie down where you
Had slept and the creases

Caress my worn out mind

Soothing my aching body

When you leave
I wrap my hands around
Lonely curves dreaming
Hoping for one more night
Filled with whispered nothings

As soon as you leave
I start circling the weekends
In my mind's calendar
Awaiting your return
To make me full again

A Woman

He told me that I am not anything
If I am not a woman
But I am a woman ,I said
I have a vagina, two breasts

No, you are not
You have a mind of your own
That’s the anomaly
You reason, You speak
You are not submissive
You are not helpless
You are not dependent
How can you be a woman?

I am  very much a woman
I am my own self,
How God intended
Not how you want to mend it

The woman whose mind you fear
Whose reason you know is better
Whose voice much powerful
Whom you have to fetter
Or else she will rise above
And drown you in her deluge
You have to use your brute strength
How else will you have the woman?

The Dog Who Ate Air

Today when Rajesh’s little son asked for a puppy as a birthday gift he readily bought him one. He didn’t have the heart to say no. Malti, his wife was surprised at the quick recapitulation. At night she asked him about it. “I didn’t want him to feel that we didn’t understand his need. I know how it is to how it feels when you realise that the world is not a fairy tail after all”, Rajesh was smiling and thinking aloud “These kids are not innocent like we were”. “This is still more perplexing”, thought Malti, “Why are you smiling while mouthing such heavy words?” Rajesh meanwhile had gone back in time to the when he was a three year old kid fondly known as Raju.

He remembered looking longingly at the cute white puppy that Col. Gupta’s son was walking along with their sahayak. Raju was an impish looking boy with light eyes and golden hair; he had a certain endearing air about him. Everybody just fell in love with his smile and incessant innocent questions yet he was also a very naughty kid who could be very dogged if he decided to.

“But why can’t we have a dog too?” He asked Dad the umpteenth time. They had just come downt o lift from their 6^th floor flat in the housing society where they lived. It was a gated society in the busy city of Kolkota, mostly inhabited by Army personnel and a few Air Force officers. Dad again told him that a flat was not appropriate place to keep a pet but as usual he was at his adamant best.

Trying to convince the boy he asked, “Who will take him for a walk? You are very small.”  “Why don't we also get an orderly? Are you not an officer too?” Raju almost whined, “He can walk the dog with me”. Dad just kept walking thinking of a possible solution to this problem knowing that something had to be done soon. What he feared happened that same evening. Ma informed Dad that the boy had had neither breakfast nor lunch and dinner also was going to go waste as far as Raju was concerned. A declaration had been given that food would be partaken only and only when a puppy is brought to the house. ‘The Hunger Strike’ was on.

It was a serious event by all measures. A hyperactive boy, Raju ate to his heart’s fill normally. His remaining hungry, was a near impossible, really worrisome, catastrophic event for Ma. This went on for two days. Not only Ma but Dad also had to give up. “Ok! I’ll bring a puppy for you soon”, Dad exclaimed with exasperation. It was a major victory for Raju and hence the strike was broken with his favourite rajma chawal. Ma too had a sigh of relief.

Finally his wait was over and dad brought a beautiful puppy home. Its coat was jet black and shiny and it had a red bow on top of its head. Raju tied a string around its neck and proudly took it for a walk. He named it Blacky.

Blacky proved to be an extremely obedient pet. He didn't bark unnecessarily, didn't ask for food and didn’t even ask to pee. He walked very easily on the leash and was happy be steered in any direction. Mom and granny also were apparently happy with Blacky. Raju thought to himself, “Dad was worried without cause, mom doesn't say anything and granny is almost unaware of Blacky’s presence.” However he sometimes wondered why Blacky didn’t eat anything? Didn’t dogs need food to grow up?”

A few days later they were playing when Shyam his friend pulled hard at Blacky’s bow. After that however hard Raju tried the dog just wouldn’t bark. Ma was not at home and it was so perplexing for Raju that he decided to take him to Doctor Uncle who lived on the same floor. Unfortunately Ramu the doc’s servant opened the door and started laughing when Raju told him about Blacky’s ailment. “And what does he eat?” Ramu sniggered. “He eats air” Raju answered, “Every evening I tie him outside in the balcony at 7.00 for him to have his dinner.” Ramu laughed still louder, “Look it doesn’t even have legs. They are only wheels”, Ramu said holding his jiggling stomach while laughing. By this time other children had also gathered around and everyone started making fun of the poor boy.

Crying loudly and still holding Blacky to his chest he went running back. Ma was just back from the market. “Why doesn’t Blacky have legs?” he asked innocently. Tears were streaming down red cheeks when he related everything that had happened at Doctor Uncle’s home. Ma just looked at him and didn’t know how to explain. She was at a loss for words and tried soothing his nerves by distracting him. “Dad will explain everything when he is back”, she said.

While waiting for Dad ,he observed other dogs from the balcony and suddenly the realisation dawned upon him. He understood it all, this time he will not be fooled by a plastic toy which had wheels for legs and ate air. It was time again for the hunger strike regimen

“How times change”, Malti smiled warmly at her still endearing husband and they both went to have a look at Gaurav sleeping beside his new “toy”.

Silent Tears

Life’s silent tears
Festering and unhealing
Causing eternal lacerations
Which fill eyes with dry salt
Love’s but a ghost
Eluding yet haunting
Chasing coloured-paper dreams
Which crumple sleeplessly

Escape #AtoZBloggingChallenge letter #E

That slanting rooftop in the sun

Where slipping out from the rails

I leaned basking in the sun

And escaped from the world

From things that mattered to most

The gossiping aunts and uncles

From cacophony of cousins shouting

 The mundane and the routine

The  young green slopes in waves

The cascading sparkle of water

A slim road winding down the hill

And  tall pines branches beckoning

Those memories of years gone by

Oftentimes fondle my weary heart

When there's no escaping now

From the gray jungles of concrete

Damned #AtoZBloogingChallenge letter #D

Every scar tells a damned story

A story which supposed her guilty

Guilty  she was only of loving

Loving unconditionally, giving

Giving each particle of her being

Her being systemically shattered

Shattered with  deeds and words

Words that bore deeper wounds

Wounds, bloodied red ugly stamps

Stamps marring her body and soul

Soul that loved was raked by terror

Terror blindsiding love left scarred

Courage #AtoZBloggingChannel

Following a  loose theme of things that have had an impact on my life

They say you have been brave

Yet I have also failed at times

I too have cried alone,  scared

To face the world on my own

A loving whisper, a stirring word

A warm smile, a touching caress

A stern rebuke or a bear hug

Sometimes brings courage to you

All you need is a belief in self and

Love and peace to see you through

And people who have faith in you

Who care enough to be with you

Brownish Blackish #AtoZBloggingChallenge #B

My take on the prejudice faced by majority of Indian girls as the beauty standards in our country are still governed by colonial mindset

Brownish or blackish

Or maybe wheatish

My skin is honey golden

Or maybe a dusky gold

Whatever it's tone

It is just  not enough

Because beauty is white

Brown only ugly and dark

Pristine cold plastic

The white is idolised

Coloured real warm

The brown stands ignored

Ambition #AtoZBloggingChallenge

In setting the course of our life we forget to live life like it was meant to be. In following the fish eye we forget the beauty that's scattered around us.

He said,, let's go

We are set on course

Let's achieve that pinnacle

I will guide your path

My dreams, yours, ours

Let's  focus on that fish eye

I said, please stop

Let's take in the scene

Resist the relentless push

I want to make some art

My dreams are mine, not ours

I wish to enjoy the journey too

ये शहर

मेरी सब शरारतों का गवाह  

मेरी उम्र से बस कुछ ही बड़ा 

इसकी बाँहों में खेली मैं बढ़ी  

इसकी राहों पे गिरी और संभली

ये मेरे बचपन का दोस्त 

ये मेरी जवानी का साथी 

इसके फूलों की खुशबू मेरी 

इसके पतझर के रंग मेरे अपने

हर मोड़ में कोई किस्सा सुहाना 

हर ईमारत में मेरा हिस्सा पुराना

इसकी हवाएं मेरी कहानी बांचती

इसके पानियों में मेरे दर्द के घोल 

 ये शहर मुझे भूल नहीं पायेगा 

मेरे दिल सा ही तो है ये शहर 

Again Found

A season  of delight

In a life full of woes

A rainbow of smiles

In the  dreary greyness

I drown and yet am ashore

Inundated in a deluge of joy 

Your  sparkle makes me 

New and resplendent 

Your fragrance makes me

Fresh and redolent of love

I die and  yet am reborn 

Entangled in the threads of life

Aroused by the mere touch 

Of your fingers on my skin

Scalded by the bare  heat 

Of your glaze on my face

I am burned and yet soothed

Rekindled by the again-found love