Wednesday 3 July 2013

lingering thoughts

Those lingering thoughts
In  they tiptoed and I fought
Messing up this sparing lane of mine
Groping with enlightened thoughts divine
Far in the dead night
In to the hollows of the creeping fright
They stalked……….
And I fled…………….,
Crippled and squeezed……..
I twisted and crawled………
Pushed  and gathered………….
A handful of  me…………
And then I grew……
Sprouting in sunlight milieu……
Folding in out…………
Crumpled and erect………
From docile to deft
Its me as I shouted aloud…………….
To enliven my life bereft…….
Spring did set in……….
As it flew and came……..
Another monster……..it said
You have tamed………..
Those lingering  thoughts…….
Zigzaged their way
…..with my bliss
An irrefutable  play
Drenched as I sighed………
Life must have giggled at my plight……….
But the spring never gave in
It cuddled me in its
Effervescent grin
Borrowed wings……
To fly and win
Craddled and rocked…..
with her tender strings
those lingering thoughts……
 still tiptoe and throng
a brute from a minion……
still……..a tussle…..
to assign it to oblivion…….


Wednesday 26 June 2013

THE WOMAN BEHIND THE VEIL


The veil has been an inseparable of the ancient Indian culture.We have seen in many bollywood movies,girls walking stealthily towards the sacred fire in the studded,glittery hallucination .It is synonymous to Indian marriages though not practised in all communities and thus surfaces the infinite question that ponder over this innocous fragment of fabric.But somehow I feel this veil,is disgusied form of our own submission to life.Every single invitee at any marriage looks at the birde in awe,her elegance breathtakingly adorned.But seldom does one realise the human being ,who takes deep breath inside those veils anxious of the vociferous excitement around her.She takes sacred steps towards another life waiting to embrace her.As eyes downcast she takes clandestine steps behind her life partner to complete those seven rounds around the fire,the auspicious moment has arrived in her life when the sacred vermillion would ornament the partition in her hair.People glorified the moment with their blessings and the bride took her prosperity promising steps towards her sasural(inlaws house in hindi). And there starts the mental encounters with self when the little bride modulates her according to the family.What do we call it when she has to cook according to the whims and fancies of her new family,do we call it domestic violence?What do we have to say when a working girl is asked to quit her job and contend herself in the four walls of the kitchen and what do we call it when she has to dress up according to the tradition and culture of the family and what is it when she is given a character certificate for every word she utters...........Does all this come under domestic violence?

Do we have a law to secure the woman who wants to live her life but is not able to and where there is no physical or mental humiliation categorically involved.The results ...............she submits to the ways of the new life............dreams and aspirations hibernate.......................haggle inside the bylanes of her heart..................... and then when she looks at the mirror,she asks herelf who am I,innumerable answers do somersault in her mind.We as woman play plenty of roles to our best but when it comes to us we underplay everything.

With this what I want to communicate is that,inequality towards woman is present in every frame of her life.The prominent ones are highlighted but the silent ones anguish and takes refuge in herself,never to even give a remote glance to people around her.Culturally our patriarchial society is built on the abhorrable pillars of thought that the woman is the imminent sarifical goat.And her decison to negate herself to the thought of building her inherent instincts does not even gather a morsel of appreciation from her  fellow beings.

So ringing the bell should start from the day a girl is born.She needs to assert herself at every crossroads of life.She needs to tell everyone single human being around her, that she is an individual in her own right.She does not want shoulders to fall upon and she is not bound by stringent rules specailly caricatured for her.She is the eternal life giver and she has the  right and ability to garner herself for any challenges in life.Stop atrocities towards woman yourself,even if they dont mount to physical abuse.An abuse of any kind is simply deplorable here I mean the minutest of things that hurt you whosoever is the initiator of that abuse.Your life is the honour that god has bestowed on you and you have all the right to honour that honour.




  Let us equip our girls to rejoice the reslient life and Celebrate the blessing called womanhood....................

The woman behind the veil


The veil has been an inseparable of the ancient Indian culture.We have seen in many bollywood movies,girls walking stealthily towards the sacred fire in the studded,glittery hallucination .It is synonymous to Indian marriages though not practised in all communities and thus surfaces the infinite question that ponder over this innocous fragment of fabric.But somehow I feel this veil,is a disgusied form of our own submission to life.Every single invitee at any marriage looks at the birde in awe,her elegance breathtakingly adorned.But seldom does one realise the human being ,who takes deep breath inside those veils anxious of the vociferous excitement around her.She takes sacred steps towards another life waiting to embrace her.As eyes downcast she takes clandestine steps behind her life partner to complete those seven rounds around the fire,the auspicious moment has arrived in her life when the sacred vermillion would ornament the partition in her hair.People glorified the moment with their blessings and the bride took her prosperity promising steps towards her sasural(inlaws house in hindi). And there starts the mental encounters with self when the little bride modulates her according to the family.What do we call it when she has to cook according to the whims and fancies of her new family,do we call it domestic violence?What do we have to say when a working girl is asked to quit her job and contend herself in the four walls of the kitchen and what do we call it when she has to dress up according to the tradition and culture of the family and what is it when she is given a character certificate for every word she utters...........Does all this come under domestic violence?
Do we have a law to secure the woman who wants to live her life but is not able to and where there is no physical or mental humiliation categorically involved.The results ...............she submits to the ways of the new life............dreams and aspirations hibernate.......................haggle inside the bylanes of her heart..................... and then when she looks at the mirror,she asks herelf who am I,innumerable answers do somersault in her mind.We as woman play plenty of roles to our best but when it comes to us we underplay everything.


With this what I want to communicate is that,inequality towards woman is present in every frame of her life.The prominent ones are highlighted but the silent ones anguish and takes refuge in herself,never to even give a remote glance to people around her.Culturally our patriarchial society is built on the abhorrable pillars of thought that the woman is the imminent sarifical goat.And her decison to negate herself to the thought of building her inherent instincts does not even gather a morsel of appreciation from her  fellow beings.
  
  So ringing the bell should start from the day a girl is born.She needs to assert herself at every crossroads of life.She needs to tell everyone single human being around her, that she is an individual in her own right.She does not want shoulders to fall upon and she is not bound by stringent rules specailly caricatured for her.She is the eternal life giver and she has the  right and ability to garner herself for any challenges in life.Stop atrocities towards woman yourself,even if they dont mount to physical abuse.An abuse of any kind is simply deplorable here I mean the minutest of things that hurt you whosoever is the initiator of that abuse.Your life is the honour that god has bestowed on you and you have all the right to honour that honour.

  Let us equip our girls to rejoice the reslient life and Celebrate the blessing called womanhood....................

Monday 24 June 2013

my little dream

My dream stood timid
in my shadowy array
it peeped once awhile
to look at the world in disarray
waves loomed large
smashed at those simmering wishes
it stood aghast
braving those gushes
broiling inside me
it gave me punches
as i dislocated
my intuitive hunches
when drops fell down
it gave tht sombre look
why do you trash me
crush me in your whims
i stood perturbed
leaning the brim
the knocks went silent
as it played hide and seek
I bowed to the thrashes
lowly and meek
words deserted me
never to look back
your burning desires
it said
why do you stack
my dream today
peeped from my array
words danced on my thumb
said
assemble us
we are in disarray
I dreamt yesterday of the little  school
the forlorn fragrance clasped in breeze cool
where I learnt the alphabet,
lifes commas and fulls stops
where I learnt to smile
survive lifes jumps and hops
I saw all those little hands
which clutched mine
winking and smiling at me
I stood there enthralled
I could stop that moment else it shall flee
I dreamt of the little school yesterday
which made me what I am today
Sun shone on its roofs like everyday
flowers bloomed children danced
I stood there in a trance
I wish I could step back
If life ever gave me a chance
I cannot repay
them with any honour,in any kind
such are those moments
engraved in my mind
I dreamt yesterday of the little school
the fragrance of jasmine and the paper boats in the pool
A teacher there taught ancient history
i stood there glistening
in the aura of her fervoury
the blackboard there said LEARN WITH PLEASURE
luminous moments in my eyes as I  treasure
from buds she carved out flowers
as we learnt that
from challenges we shall not deter
I cuddled myself in the warmth of her voice
wish i cud hide there
immerse myself in her equipoise
I dreamt yesterday of the little school
the forlorn fragrance clasped in breeze cool