TRAIN FROM PAKISTAN

This poem first appeared here in the March 2014 issue of the Online magazine THE BROWSING CORNER.



The night seemed to be

 

absolutely quiet

as if mourning the loss

which human hearts

were too small to comprehend

 

the train cutting through

the dark fields

smelled of fear and

brewing hatred

 

the brakes halted the train

and stopped the heartbeats

under bundles of rags

he huddled under a berth

as his older brother

covered his mouth

 

the hot crimson drops

drip on his forehead

all night

every night

for 67 years

 

a childhood

trapped

on a train

from Pakistan !

This isn't a post - 6, meaningless banter..

23 March Bhagat Singh
Paash, the revolutionary Punjabi poet died on the same date, coincidence?

What is freedom? why is it so precious? Is it valued?

why are words valued? why is voice important?

Is FEMINISM a dirty words? Is it just a badge or an abuse?

The songs I listen to, the films I watch , the people I meet, their residue remains. Some of that smoothens my edges, some of that makes me lose the balance.

does my residue in them does the same to them to?

I am a spec in the cosmos but yet I am important because only this spec can fill this void, only this.

what are my questions? what are my answers?

MY VOICE IS MY FEMINISM

It took me a while
to come to this space
where I am no longer
scared or awkward

to restrain the man's hand
trying to grope a girl
on a bus

to protest loudly
when I hear men
use abuses
that are women-centric

to tell every girl I meet
that she doesn't have to hide
her body or her mind

to confront men
related to me
by blood or society
if they abuse or discriminate

to use my word
and my writings
to catalogue
the lessons and the fight

so however little it may be
a small speck in this
struggle of enormity

my voice is my pay forward
to my mum
her mum's mum
my daughter's future daughter
and all women everywhere

This is my sword and my shield
my defence and my attack
and I will break
the conspiracy of silence.

This post is dedicated to an inspiring fellow blogger popularly known as IHM who blogs at THE LIFE AND TIMES OF AN INDIAN HOMEMAKER. Her work and her personality as reflected in her work inspire me as a blogger, as a mom and as a woman.

This isn't a poem

Labels everywhere
on minds, souls and thoughts
and there is Eliot
on the shelf

today I can take
walk with him
on the streets of London
or anywhere

no longer afraid
of the asylum
that's where
the questioning ones end

the rest just comply
or shut down

the million-handed
octopi of thoughts
snatch words
from each other

and then
when the noise
reaches an unbearable crescendo

the words run helter-skelter
to meditate

you cringe or smile
there is no evidence
of any feeling ever

I look up
to find a face
to put up
for the other faces
I have to meet today.

 

Ironies of gender stereotypes

You cook and its an art
We slog it out
meal after meal and
never secure a place
in culinary history

you speak socialism
and equality
you are such a
sensitive intellectual
We speak about rights
and become the
bloody feminists

You are a charmer
a ladies man
and we are
just shameless

your clothes
at best define your
social status or profession
my clothes
can get me raped

So lets talk equality
in some other
time
in some other
equal space.


 

@35 a future calls me mom

beyond the customary wishes
the genuine prayers
some surprises
and the words
is a vast silence

the no noise zone
where I converse
with "I"

where the uncomfortable questions
are asked loudly
where the truth and lies
are sifted

and a self emerges and merges
into unfamiliar shapes

where I delve into
the stagnant murky waters
of the past
and come up gasping

because a future
calls me mom.


 

Life lessons from Veera Tripathi and Mahabir Bhaati on the HIGHWAY

This post is inspired by this wonderful post by my friend Indian Homemaker at her amazing blog and Imitiaz Ali's film HIGHWAY.

• Let go, your comfort zone is just that- comfortable, there is whole wide world outside of it.
• The most important part of you is your voice claim it NOW.
• Parents don't always know what is the best for you.
• Learn to question others and yourself.
• Goodness and /or crime has nothing to do with a social and/or financial status or level of education
• Boys and girls can be equally sensitive in childhood though their reactions to situations may differ.
• Romance is not always songs, dance and poetry sometimes it just IS.
• The greatest and only freedom is living life on your own terms.

Of Love and its memories

Moments unlike photos
cannot be cropped
to look perfect

they either are
fragrant like the beloved's eyes
or cold like the
words from a
broken heart

the soul
is a travelling cemetery
of moments
buried
so that moving on
is just painful and heavy
not impossible

If love was just a word
like any other
it wouldn't
have the baggage of
fabled lovers and
failed love stories

I would dip it
in my evening cup of tea
take a bite
and forget all about it .