BY INDRA NARAYAN DAS
Every time I look into the mirror,
I see an untold story,
a story etched on my skin
behind the mask that I wear,
a story I would want all of you to hear.
People always knew me
as a pretty girl.
For my dad I was a doll,
meant to be cuddled and pampered.
He was not a rich man,
but he earned enough to buy me
that occasional pack of candies
or that new Barbie dress!!
And he taught me
those ridiculously funny rhymes like
"a son is a son till he gets a wife,
a daughter is a daughter throughout her life!"
My mother, unlike him,
was a little stern-
the proverbial bad cop in the house.
She was always busy teaching me things.
Things like
how to braid my hair,
how to protect, love and care,
how to stand on my feet
even when I faced defeat,
how to grow a spine
and yet be soft and kind,
when life gets stormy
how to take it slow,
how not to say yes
when I wish to say No.
So when I grew up
I said No.
I said No
to the bullies
who thought I was weak,
I said No
to the man made world
that did not let me speak,
I said No
when they made fun
of my stains,
I said No
when misogyny
tied me up chains,
I said No
every time a pair of lecherous eyes
tried to feed on my flesh,
I said No
when his thighs pressed on me
in the crowded bus
and I squirmed my face,
I said No
when his toxic masculinity
pushed me to the corner
and made my stomach churn,
I said No every time
and then,
the bottle hit my face,
my soul was roasted,
my skin was burnt.
The venom seared my flesh,
feeding on the last remains
of my resolute fight.
Mankind was blinded once again,
it was too dark that night.
When I opened my eyes,
there was a blemish
on my name.
The colours of my freedom
were smudged with pity and shame.
I was angry, I was hurt,
I wanted to kill them all.
But when you are
at war with yourself,
the other battles
seem so frivolous and small,
I looked into the mirror
tracing a line with my fingers
along those deep scars.
I decided, now that the battle lines are drawn
I will win again,
I will aim for the stars.
The scars on my feisty flesh,
no more, were wounds to hide,
They were angry streaks of fire,
I loved to wear with pride,
They told me,
"You cannot do it alone,
You need support,
You need love.
You need help"
But I learnt it the hard way
that you cannot love anyone else
till you learn how to love yourself.
And thus, begun my second life-
A journey of creating a Kintsugi
from my broken pieces.
It’s a soul stirring poetry..Words which makes you ponder .Words which makes you realise how cruel,unjust and harsh mankind can be.It’s time we raise and say No..say no on the face of all wrong things,say no to forgiving and forgetting. Thanks for helping us realise we have a spine and we are not supposed to simply crawl rather get up and fight.
It’s a soul stirring poetry..Words which makes you ponder .Words which makes you realise how cruel,unjust and harsh mankind can be.It’s time we raise and say No..say no on the face of all wrong things,say no to forgiving and forgetting. Thanks for helping us realise we have a spine and we are not supposed to simply crawl rather get up and fight.
Great wording sir..
Hard hitting, touching and yet so sensitive….full of hope