How do you feel when you compose something dark? Sad? And pray that you never find yourself in that mental space to make it public? That you never feel the need to resonate with it again? The poetry below was written when the plight of ‘Nirbhaya’ had torn through the nation. Her pain had kicked open every door and made us face the truth that we never wish to face or accept.
And yet we are here again. It’s the same angst, the same pain yet again. The same helplessness and the same bitterness. How many episodes of killing our hopes, our dreams, our future, our mind and our bodies will it take, for the people to stop violating us women?
We as individuals can never understand what any of those children, girls, and women went through, and yet as women, we all do understand a fraction of it. Every catcall, every smack and shove on our bodies, we have felt the fear and pain bloom through us. I make this post public with only one prayer; that never again I feel the need to write something like this.
You have seen a part of me,
Not hidden for the world,
But not where you were invited ever
Yet you thought it was your right
Yet you thought you were right
Not knowing the choking feeling that lives in me
Paranoia that is my friend
Looking for death in shadows
Finding life in the dark
I was opening at my own pace
But it was not enough for you
You in the name of culture
Tore me open
And I now stand
Neither withered, nor alive
Neither dead. Just survive
Scream, let out but not escaped,
I feel violated but no one understands
Your eyes are where you need not see,
Your hands are where I need no touch
Open wounds turn toxic
I hate the world, myself and you
But in the name of culture
I will never escape my life,
My death will never escape you
I will not end this with my usual works, because I pray there never is a NEXT TIME. There never is a REAL that is so gruesome. All I have to say is, #JusticeForAsifa and all other girls and women.
PC: Google Images, Unknown