Her hands are bound, her head hangs down;
Recounting the horrors they put her through.
They dragged her ‘round, they stripped her down;
They raped her – beat her black and blue.
And now she weeps in dungeon deep,
Listening to footsteps drawing near.
She pretends to sleep, fights hard to keep
Her sanity – now she’s lost in fear.
Bound hands and feet in the scorching heat
Outside where all have come to see.
To them she’s meat, a morsel to eat.
She cries, in tears, ‘let me be!’
They strip her again; after all they are men,
to the delight of everyone there.
They spit on her, then, one of those men
Cracks a whip that slices the air.
With every slash, it leaves a gash.
Rivers of blood paint her terrain.
Done in a flash- then woman, now trash.
She lives, and will live, forever in pain.
The plight of women in our world is an oft talked about issue. So greatly delved into, in fact, that it really does make one wonder why it still lives. We are all aware of the treasure trove of pain bequeathed to women the world over. True - the scenario is better in certain regions, but for the most part, women are subject to abuse of some form or the other. In my poem, the torture and atrocities inflicted on the cursed woman are symbolic of every sort of physical, mental, emotional and verbal trauma that is the yoke born by all of her kind. Let us examine this yoke She bears, by looking through the eyes of Indra, a cheerful little girl of 10, as she goes through a regular day in her life:
7. 45 a.m. Blink, blink. The sun is shining through the bright curtains hanging on the windows. Oh no! Late for school! A quick dash into the bathroom to shower and change, then straight downstairs.
8.15 a.m. Mom! It’s getting late. But honey, mommy can’t come right now. She’s late with daddy’s breakfast and now he’s mad! {Indra doesn’t like this very much, but Daddy yells at Mommy about something or other everyday, so it must be alright.}
8. 25 a.m. Several yells and screams later, Mommy comes rushing, arms laden with Daddy’s dry cleaning and other errands that she’ll run right after she drops her angel at school. Hopefully she’ll make it to work on time, or she’ll really have it from her mean boss. {He’s just your average testosterone-charged macho man who’d equate five minutes of female tardiness (is that a correct phrase?) with incompetency, quicker than you can say “gender bias”. But hey, there’s nothing unusual about that right? It happens everywhere, so it must be alright.}
8. 45 a.m. Awfully late! Ma’am is going to be so mad! {You should note that this is a much more serious issue with someone like our Indra than, say, that rather scampish little boy casually strolling to class some fifty meters behind. You’ll soon see why.}
8. 48 a.m. Breathless; Head hanging down; Being furiously told off for irresponsible behaviour. Wonder what she’ll say to Varun when he comes in. The boy walks in nonchalantly- he does this everyday. The teacher gives him that indulgent smile and tells the “little rascal” to take a seat. The rationale being, of course, “You’re a girl, and yet you come in late! And look at those filthy shoes!” {You must understand that while these things are okay for the boys, a girl is expected to look and act perfect, come what may. Why? Because they’re girls, I tell you!! Indra must be appalled at this injustice, I hear you cry. But no, it happens all the time, so it must be alright.}
2. 30 p.m. Indra is happy; the day has been fairly uneventful since the late-coming episode of the morning. Phew!! And joy of joys, it’s PE time now! PE is meant to be a time to forget about stuffy classrooms and textbooks, to run, to laugh and to play. Indra dutifully lines up with all the other girls to partake in an exhilarating exercise, which involves walking along a straight line drawn on the sand with a book balanced on your head. Excellent for poise and grace; so imperative to a girl’s very existence. Wish I could join them, she thinks, watching the boys enjoying a fun game of hockey. But dear, I’m afraid your PE teacher decided that girls don’t like sports without asking any of you. {Note that said PE teacher is a woman, interestingly.}
Although she would like to be out on the field, sweating it out, Indra is resigned to the way the system works. Girls are delicate creatures, who need to be poised and refined at all times. The sweaty, dirty sports, although fun, are to be left to the boys. {Indra feels differently, but the PE teacher says so; so it must be alright.}
3. 30 p.m. Excitement in the air. The PE teacher has announced that it’s time to select the House Captains and Vice-Captains for the rest of the year. One boy from each house will be selected as Captain, and he’ll have a girl to assist him as Vice-Captain. Why this hard-and-fast rule that the Captain has to be a boy and the Vice Captain has to be a girl? Wouldn’t it be fairer to select the best candidate for the post, regardless of gender? But questions of fairness are far removed from such issues. {Indra’s take on it - It’s always been this way, so it must be alright.}
4. 30 p.m. Time to go home!!! Indra is waiting at the gate for her Ashok Mama to pick her up, as he always does. He pulls up in his black Honda City at 4. 35, as he always does. She gets in and buckles up, as she always does. Five minutes into the drive, his hand makes its way to our Indra’s thigh, as it always does. {Indra feels terribly uncomfortable with this, but he’s a grown-up and her Mama, so it must be alright.}
9. 30 p.m. Time for bed. Indra washes up, brushes her teeth, and clambers into bed, unaware that she was born into this world, destined for a forfeited life. She closes her eyes, eagerly anticipating tonight’s dream: Indra always has the most beautiful dreams.
Sleep well sweet Indra, and cherish those dreams. For in the morning, the nightmare begins again.
Recounting the horrors they put her through.
They dragged her ‘round, they stripped her down;
They raped her – beat her black and blue.
And now she weeps in dungeon deep,
Listening to footsteps drawing near.
She pretends to sleep, fights hard to keep
Her sanity – now she’s lost in fear.
Bound hands and feet in the scorching heat
Outside where all have come to see.
To them she’s meat, a morsel to eat.
She cries, in tears, ‘let me be!’
They strip her again; after all they are men,
to the delight of everyone there.
They spit on her, then, one of those men
Cracks a whip that slices the air.
With every slash, it leaves a gash.
Rivers of blood paint her terrain.
Done in a flash- then woman, now trash.
She lives, and will live, forever in pain.
The plight of women in our world is an oft talked about issue. So greatly delved into, in fact, that it really does make one wonder why it still lives. We are all aware of the treasure trove of pain bequeathed to women the world over. True - the scenario is better in certain regions, but for the most part, women are subject to abuse of some form or the other. In my poem, the torture and atrocities inflicted on the cursed woman are symbolic of every sort of physical, mental, emotional and verbal trauma that is the yoke born by all of her kind. Let us examine this yoke She bears, by looking through the eyes of Indra, a cheerful little girl of 10, as she goes through a regular day in her life:
7. 45 a.m. Blink, blink. The sun is shining through the bright curtains hanging on the windows. Oh no! Late for school! A quick dash into the bathroom to shower and change, then straight downstairs.
8.15 a.m. Mom! It’s getting late. But honey, mommy can’t come right now. She’s late with daddy’s breakfast and now he’s mad! {Indra doesn’t like this very much, but Daddy yells at Mommy about something or other everyday, so it must be alright.}
8. 25 a.m. Several yells and screams later, Mommy comes rushing, arms laden with Daddy’s dry cleaning and other errands that she’ll run right after she drops her angel at school. Hopefully she’ll make it to work on time, or she’ll really have it from her mean boss. {He’s just your average testosterone-charged macho man who’d equate five minutes of female tardiness (is that a correct phrase?) with incompetency, quicker than you can say “gender bias”. But hey, there’s nothing unusual about that right? It happens everywhere, so it must be alright.}
8. 45 a.m. Awfully late! Ma’am is going to be so mad! {You should note that this is a much more serious issue with someone like our Indra than, say, that rather scampish little boy casually strolling to class some fifty meters behind. You’ll soon see why.}
8. 48 a.m. Breathless; Head hanging down; Being furiously told off for irresponsible behaviour. Wonder what she’ll say to Varun when he comes in. The boy walks in nonchalantly- he does this everyday. The teacher gives him that indulgent smile and tells the “little rascal” to take a seat. The rationale being, of course, “You’re a girl, and yet you come in late! And look at those filthy shoes!” {You must understand that while these things are okay for the boys, a girl is expected to look and act perfect, come what may. Why? Because they’re girls, I tell you!! Indra must be appalled at this injustice, I hear you cry. But no, it happens all the time, so it must be alright.}
2. 30 p.m. Indra is happy; the day has been fairly uneventful since the late-coming episode of the morning. Phew!! And joy of joys, it’s PE time now! PE is meant to be a time to forget about stuffy classrooms and textbooks, to run, to laugh and to play. Indra dutifully lines up with all the other girls to partake in an exhilarating exercise, which involves walking along a straight line drawn on the sand with a book balanced on your head. Excellent for poise and grace; so imperative to a girl’s very existence. Wish I could join them, she thinks, watching the boys enjoying a fun game of hockey. But dear, I’m afraid your PE teacher decided that girls don’t like sports without asking any of you. {Note that said PE teacher is a woman, interestingly.}
Although she would like to be out on the field, sweating it out, Indra is resigned to the way the system works. Girls are delicate creatures, who need to be poised and refined at all times. The sweaty, dirty sports, although fun, are to be left to the boys. {Indra feels differently, but the PE teacher says so; so it must be alright.}
3. 30 p.m. Excitement in the air. The PE teacher has announced that it’s time to select the House Captains and Vice-Captains for the rest of the year. One boy from each house will be selected as Captain, and he’ll have a girl to assist him as Vice-Captain. Why this hard-and-fast rule that the Captain has to be a boy and the Vice Captain has to be a girl? Wouldn’t it be fairer to select the best candidate for the post, regardless of gender? But questions of fairness are far removed from such issues. {Indra’s take on it - It’s always been this way, so it must be alright.}
4. 30 p.m. Time to go home!!! Indra is waiting at the gate for her Ashok Mama to pick her up, as he always does. He pulls up in his black Honda City at 4. 35, as he always does. She gets in and buckles up, as she always does. Five minutes into the drive, his hand makes its way to our Indra’s thigh, as it always does. {Indra feels terribly uncomfortable with this, but he’s a grown-up and her Mama, so it must be alright.}
9. 30 p.m. Time for bed. Indra washes up, brushes her teeth, and clambers into bed, unaware that she was born into this world, destined for a forfeited life. She closes her eyes, eagerly anticipating tonight’s dream: Indra always has the most beautiful dreams.
Sleep well sweet Indra, and cherish those dreams. For in the morning, the nightmare begins again.
The gentle breeze knows to nurture
ReplyDeleteTo care for the world, for its future
But its time for anger,a fury strange
She has to be the storm, winds of change ...
arrey Raunchy too much i say! share more!
ReplyDelete