Last night, I dreamt a dream of a utopic (magical) land,
It had neither a princess on a magic carpet nor a prince with a magical wand;
It had warriors wearing red lipstick and black kohl,
Warriors in short skirts who knew how to take control.
I saw them walking on the streets late at night,
I saw, in their eyes, a glitter, spark, and light;
They held hands and marched towards their mission,
They had a fury to enlighten a new vision.
They did not speak in hushed voices, with lowered eyes,
The have had enough with the life of compromise;
They were not afraid, no longer, to express desire,
They were here to spread their voices like wildfire.
They read all about the history and the past,
Of Discrimination based on gender, color, and caste;
They read stories of Austen, Plath, Beauvoir, Dickinson,
They carried the souls of Woolf, Desai, Roy, Morrison.
Last night, I dreamt a dream of a utopic land,
No, I did not see a damsel in distress, all alone in a fairyland;
I saw women, all of them, walking hand in hand,
Together, creating a demand for a new homeland.