Un-trashed

The din plays endlessly into my
Ears that fail to understand melody
Wrinkles of my skin hiding behind the smut
Spewed from innumerous smokestacks
Grains of ground cemented together
Soothing my boots, cracking my heels
Well pressed creases now seeking revenge,
Of the hot iron used on them this morn
Dead flesh’s being mashed, turning pale
None to watch it shrink and quail!
The din’s to be silenced, heels’ to be healed
Flesh’s to be colored and wrinkles revealed
Damn the spirits that die each day on local trains
I seek country showers while life bathes in acid rains

Reflections

I watch her flow through the spout
Into the glass, of fancy shapes desired by others
Droplets like gauzy beads, fragmented spirits
She shimmers as a puff of air touches her
As the tea dust is spattered, she changes colour
Innocence lost, a new life sets in, no discord
She swallows the sugar cubes
Then I try salt – she distinguishes none
So unopinionated. It enrages me…
I drop the pebbles from the vase
She makes space for them
It’s getting to be a battle
Giving me the feeling that she is raising
I hurl more…
She flows out – losing herself drop by drop
Till she lies spilt all around, vaporizing
She is gone. I watch her die
I profusely cry and I know why

The joy of sorrow

She lies on the ground delicate, weightless
Orbs reflecting shallow painted memories
Of men whom she wound gently
Like a whore, the pleasure of a few moments
The layers of glassy white sheets on her body
Reflecting her wangled actions.
Beside her knee lies an inexorable beast, spewing spite
No emotion, no fear, no remorse, candid intent
Charges at me, unprovoked..
Seizes the heart, through the flesh
Squeezing it with his mighty paw
The fury of his heavy breath baking my skin
The pain flows down the veins
AArrghh!!! An inexplicable experience
To feel every ounce come to life
Piercing screams, I fight the jaws off my neck
As he drills his teeth deeper, mightier
Strangely, feels complete, for having explored a new hue
Of enshrouded impressions, dribbling down his teeth
Then the beguiling witch wakes up to make love
I surrender in silence while he’s gone
It’s gotten on me, not her flinty love, but the beast
He has more to unveil, more to squelch, more to feast

Hope

The storm’s too strong, the hull is weak
The oars are broken, the boat’s a leak
She anchors the vessel to the rays of the sun
To be pulled to land, a new life’s begun

The flying line’s mercilessly cut,
The wind has ripped the sail, the keel
She blows air into those tiny shreds
The power of the bits, she shall reveal

Stony houses, pale glassy shutters
Frozen streets and dark dead corners
She leans on to a wall painted green
To be coloured with life, to wear the sheen

Her heart is heavy, eyes burning fire
Limbs hurt of boredom, and body of tire
She picks the bliss and rinses her soul

She shall start afresh, undone is her role.

Ummeed

It had been a tough life out here. The only whiff of hope was the care she was receiving from everyone around. She felt indebted to the women of the village for the love they were showering on her team. But still nothing could keep them going in that scorching heat and raising temperature. It was getting intolerable with every passing day with hell breaking loose during noon, when the fan refused to move an inch.

Today, like every other day, the team woke up early to visit one of the colonies for the awareness programme. They were travelling by rick since there was no other mode of transport to reach there. One of the ladies accompanying her tied a wet scarf to the rick to combat the hot air which was blowing on to their faces. Within 3 seconds, it dried up and she immediately untied her scarf, turned towards her and said “Had I left it there for a few more minutes, my scarf would have caught fire by now”. She gazed at the lady point blank and returned a nervous smile.

Despite repeated reminders, there were around 25 women who had assembled in the house, each of them synching their database with the other. It was disappointing to see such a small gathering after a long journey. However she started with her sermon about women health, moved on to menstrual hygiene, usage of sanitary napkins, etc. As always, the women refused to discuss and ask questions despite repeated requests from her. When she stopped, her friend took over to demonstrate the simplicity of usage and promote the brand. While her friend spoke, she made a quick scan of the audience present there. A young girl caught her attention. The girl’s eyes were fixed on her and refused to stray despite her stare. She gazed at the teenager’s eyes, dull brown with darker orbital rings, yellow streaks radiating from the lens, like the sun rays she would draw when she was a kid. There was something intriguing about her gaze. There was hope of a better tomorrow and all those hopes were pinned against her. She got deeper into those eyes and it seemed like she was looking at her younger self. The image was begging to free her from the discomfort she had to go through during her teen years.

It had never been pleasant. She recollected those initial days of being clueless of the happenings around. A major function commemorated her entry into adulthood while she longed to remain a child. She hated being dressed like a clown and greeted by all the women around for something which was so very natural. She would dread those five days of the month. Every month, it would be the same routine of taking out old clothes from the cupboard – the cleanest of the rags. It was extremely embarrassing for her to go to her mom for a new set of clothes and hence preferred to use the old ones. She would wash it in the backyard, hoping that her dad and brothers wouldn’t get to know. The room where she dried was dark and never saw sunlight. One of those days, when she picked an old cloth a lizard had jumped out of it. She was confined to a small corner of the house, not allowed to touch things or people around and had to sleep on the floor. Speaking aloud when her grandmom was around was forbidden. She was advised not to go to college, but with the support of her mother, had managed to obtain permission for it. The scene was no better at college too. She recollected the days when her menstrual cycle began while she was visiting her aunt who was extremely orthodox. To avoid the trauma, she would go to the fields every day and dry her cloth on the thorny shrubs to not let her aunt know about it. She had to stand guard to save the cloth from being eaten away by a snake. The villagers believed that it would make the lady infertile. She sighed as she relived those experiences and a small sarcastic smile rose, thinking of all the myths and taboos associated with menstruation.

“Do you have anything to add partner?”, her friend turned to her. “Y..Y..Yes”, she said recovering. “Let’s vow today to help make every woman’s journey more comfortable. After all it’s a woman who can feel for another woman”. There was silence for a few seconds. Maybe it was too profound to be understood. But then, the women started smiling, nodding and clapping, as though they have got a new lease of life. The young girl had a smile too.

The experiences narrated here shortly depict the living conditions of 90% of women in India during their menstrual cycle. It’s a shame that despite all the talks given on women empowerment only 7% of women in India use sanitary napkins and close to 93% of Indian women use unhygienic means for menstrual protection. 14% of Indian women suffer from urinary tract infections and 2% even use ash and sand during menstruation. We can reduce these numbers by just spreading the word. All we have to do is to encourage women to discuss the issue openly. On a lighter note, women should ask for a sanitary napkin as confidently as a guy asks for a shaving razor (Now, that’s a feminist speaking ;)).

Merry Christmas!!!!

A star in here and a crib right there
Cuddled in the corner was a teddy bear
A well dressed tree stood sparkling bright
Tinsels and baubles; Wow!!! What a sight
Angel Gabriel’s role I always donned
Had a sparkling white gown and a magic wand
Carols and jingles, loads of joy in the air
Gifts and candies, tons of love to share
We built lord’s land in our own sweet way
Oh my old convent days, come back I pray!!

Have a merry Christmas!!!
Angel Gabrielz sitting in her room.. reading Financial Management... She needs a star to lead her today :)

Mumbai trains

Life's like travelling in the Mumbai trains
Dusty seats and rusty panes
Marching through those perennial rains
Past the slums, over the plains

Have you been to those busy stations?
All you need is loads of patience
Stuck everywhere are dreadful cautions
Hosting almost half the nation

Eternal wait, never ending queue
When’s your turn, you have no clue
Watching folks and their quarrels new
Little did you realize, how time flew

You know your destiny, you have the pass
The more you paid, the better your class
The crowd rushes in and pulls you along
Strangers around, humming an unknown song

Station's in and you still have a doubt
Within seconds you are thrown out
"This is not mine", you yell and shout
Catch another, Isn’t that what life's all about?