By Pinky Priyadarshini Sarma
Call me a damsel
And I shall drag you to hell.
Call me a demon,
And you definitely know how it feels to be in the heaven.
Your definition of me is only a reflection of how you see.
But I germinate, evolve, grow, like a
Complex embryo-
Travelling the fallopian tube of myriad experiences you put me through.
I am not in a post partum period, pained and scarred.
Nor I am a vulnerable foetus, ready to be marred.
Try to mould, bend, twist or break me,
You will certainly watch me rise like the mystical phoenix
Blazing, roaring, smashing the stereotypical fix.
I am more than a woman, a womb and a creator of life.
I am more than a mother, daughter, sister and a wife.
I am neither a figment of your imagination,
nor a remnant of your procrastination.
Your lust may devour every single filament of my grueling body;
But my Soul shall drive me into a revolutionary mutiny.