Pained i am to wake up to the news of raped bodies,
Torn i am to see what i see around me,
Violated femininity surrounds me,
This makes me blame the cursed moment in which my biology was decided,
I wish to make be myself,
I want to enjoy the night sky without the fear of being abducted,
I dream of spreading my wings into the arena of creative fulfillment,
I want to stand nude against the chilly winds on december mornings,
I long to sail like a lost raft in the currents of desire,
The women’s reservation bill will not solve my problems,
A ladies only bus is no solution for me,
No one knows,
I never show,
But that does not mean i dont have a thing to say,i have lots,
Lots of wishes,no demands,
Just listen to me,
Just throw me a smile,
Let me live for this world is equally mine as yours.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Blasphemy
My incense sticks lay burning at your altar,
My Lord, save him, Please,
38 long years of matrimony has given me nothing but grief,
Life was a meaningless cycle from negligence to abusive sex to continuous pregnancies,
I longed for nothing more than a little bit of consideration,
But,nights became nightmares,
His bed became my prison,
And on it, I was shackled with his chains of never-ending passion,
Violated, I pushed myself through those nights in silent tears which no one saw,
Not even you My Lord,
He tied up my soul
I forgot how to write verses,
I forgot how to sing,how to decipher the language of the rains,
All I could do was clean stained bedsheets,deliver and lay down for him,
Every second I cursed my birth,my biology,my father’s empty bank account which made me my husband’s captive at 16,
I hated my fair skin which made him covet me,
I wished I was dark and ugly so that no man would have offered to marry me
I could have stayed at home and gone to school then,
Or at least could have slept with peace for a few more years,
My children grew up and flew away,
And I was still there, cleaning bed sheets and spreading new ones,
I lived just for him to push me around and walk over me,
Now, the thought of it all petrifies me,
My Lord,from where did the potion of endurance flow into me?
Married to a rich household and blessed with 7 children
People say I am lucky to be the Priest’s wife,
But no one ever recognised that the heaviness of my eyes was much more than that of my pregnant belly,
My husband,the revered Priest, was a parasite which nibbled on the Holy Bible,
Yet, Now, when he lies half-dead at the Church hospital,
I somehow cannot pray for his death,
My Lord, save him,
Give him painless days and sound nights,
My incense sticks lay burning at your altar,
Save him Lord,
I cannot ask for his death even after all that I have gone through
For you made me a woman,
A woman who can bow as low as the earth and harbour endless love within!
My Lord, save him, Please,
38 long years of matrimony has given me nothing but grief,
Life was a meaningless cycle from negligence to abusive sex to continuous pregnancies,
I longed for nothing more than a little bit of consideration,
But,nights became nightmares,
His bed became my prison,
And on it, I was shackled with his chains of never-ending passion,
Violated, I pushed myself through those nights in silent tears which no one saw,
Not even you My Lord,
He tied up my soul
I forgot how to write verses,
I forgot how to sing,how to decipher the language of the rains,
All I could do was clean stained bedsheets,deliver and lay down for him,
Every second I cursed my birth,my biology,my father’s empty bank account which made me my husband’s captive at 16,
I hated my fair skin which made him covet me,
I wished I was dark and ugly so that no man would have offered to marry me
I could have stayed at home and gone to school then,
Or at least could have slept with peace for a few more years,
My children grew up and flew away,
And I was still there, cleaning bed sheets and spreading new ones,
I lived just for him to push me around and walk over me,
Now, the thought of it all petrifies me,
My Lord,from where did the potion of endurance flow into me?
Married to a rich household and blessed with 7 children
People say I am lucky to be the Priest’s wife,
But no one ever recognised that the heaviness of my eyes was much more than that of my pregnant belly,
My husband,the revered Priest, was a parasite which nibbled on the Holy Bible,
Yet, Now, when he lies half-dead at the Church hospital,
I somehow cannot pray for his death,
My Lord, save him,
Give him painless days and sound nights,
My incense sticks lay burning at your altar,
Save him Lord,
I cannot ask for his death even after all that I have gone through
For you made me a woman,
A woman who can bow as low as the earth and harbour endless love within!
Friday, March 4, 2011
what are you to me?
What are you?
An actor who amazes the audian in me?
A philosopher whose intelligence petrifies me?
A child whose innocence triggers the maternity in me?
A man whose roughness arouses me?
Whatever you are, I do not want to define you,
I simply love you.... for you make me want to outgrow my shell and expand my horizons to reach the zenith of my long-cherished passions,
You make me want to love,
Your breath tells me that life is about being warm within,
Your clear green eyes push me to stand staring at the mystery of the seas,
Your soft recital of poetry intoxicates the woman within me,
You have inspired me to rebel against the hypocrisies of my mind,
You make me crave for knowledge,
Your thoughts make me want to search for completion,
You teach me to keep faith in the enormous white skies and soar my kites into its vastness,
You carve my inner self with your sharp chisel of burning intelligence,
And now, you have made a beautiful sculpture out of my raw conscience,
Yet, I wonder....what are you?
I learnt to love life through you,
I crossed the reef of ignorance and ascended the peak of eternal bliss through you,
I dreamt through your fiery eyes,
I made love to your exendric soul,
Even then I ask myself.....what are you to me?
Whatever you are to me, I do not wish to define you....because I simply love you...I do not know what love is because you never told me what it is,
You simply placed a soft kiss on my forehead whenever I asked you,
Even though I don’t know what it is,
My teacher,
My philosopher,
My companion,
My protector,
My mate,
My man,
.....I love you.
An actor who amazes the audian in me?
A philosopher whose intelligence petrifies me?
A child whose innocence triggers the maternity in me?
A man whose roughness arouses me?
Whatever you are, I do not want to define you,
I simply love you.... for you make me want to outgrow my shell and expand my horizons to reach the zenith of my long-cherished passions,
You make me want to love,
Your breath tells me that life is about being warm within,
Your clear green eyes push me to stand staring at the mystery of the seas,
Your soft recital of poetry intoxicates the woman within me,
You have inspired me to rebel against the hypocrisies of my mind,
You make me crave for knowledge,
Your thoughts make me want to search for completion,
You teach me to keep faith in the enormous white skies and soar my kites into its vastness,
You carve my inner self with your sharp chisel of burning intelligence,
And now, you have made a beautiful sculpture out of my raw conscience,
Yet, I wonder....what are you?
I learnt to love life through you,
I crossed the reef of ignorance and ascended the peak of eternal bliss through you,
I dreamt through your fiery eyes,
I made love to your exendric soul,
Even then I ask myself.....what are you to me?
Whatever you are to me, I do not wish to define you....because I simply love you...I do not know what love is because you never told me what it is,
You simply placed a soft kiss on my forehead whenever I asked you,
Even though I don’t know what it is,
My teacher,
My philosopher,
My companion,
My protector,
My mate,
My man,
.....I love you.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
You are my mirage
My ecstacy,
My fire,
Merge into my conscience
and dwell in my soul,
Erase my egos with your soft breath of love,
Let our souls philander in the mysterious depths of our admiration,
Let me fondle your neat,long fingers that draw lines of warm fulfillment on my breast,
Spread your ink on my canvas,let me evolve reading the verses you scribble on my frame,
Take me to the world of endless celebrations,
Teach me the art of selfless love,
Intoxicate my inner self with the bliss of your meditative love-making,
In the orgasmic pleasure of your closeness,let my femininity find paradise,
Compell me to stop existing a blob of meat in this ruthless world and push me to start living in the search for truth,
My never-found love, Put an end to my wait,
Come out of my imagination,transform into living flesh and blood..
Contain me,let my femininity find completion.
My fire,
Merge into my conscience
and dwell in my soul,
Erase my egos with your soft breath of love,
Let our souls philander in the mysterious depths of our admiration,
Let me fondle your neat,long fingers that draw lines of warm fulfillment on my breast,
Spread your ink on my canvas,let me evolve reading the verses you scribble on my frame,
Take me to the world of endless celebrations,
Teach me the art of selfless love,
Intoxicate my inner self with the bliss of your meditative love-making,
In the orgasmic pleasure of your closeness,let my femininity find paradise,
Compell me to stop existing a blob of meat in this ruthless world and push me to start living in the search for truth,
My never-found love, Put an end to my wait,
Come out of my imagination,transform into living flesh and blood..
Contain me,let my femininity find completion.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
the year is new.....but the prototype isnt...
While returning from the doctor’s clinic at about 7pm on the late evening of 31 Dec 2010, what I saw and experienced made me completely cynical of the Indian testosterone.
People on the streets were in a mood for celebration. Now when I say people, it is particularly emphasized that there were hardly any women to be seen. The men, (‘testosterone charged beings’ as I call them) were staring and ogling excessively at almost al the available, faint traces of femininity they could manage to find on the street.
This made me wonder from where these men get the idea that whenever there is a reason to celebrate; they can get drunk and charge upon any female who passes by.
According to my limited knowledge, nowhere it is said that on the New Year’s Eve, the streets are reserved for men. Then why is it that we find absolutely no woman out on the streets of the metro?
Does this mean that even in public, amidst the presence and protection of her family, a woman is vulnerable? If the answer to the last question is in the affirmative, then why the bloody hell is this country called a democracy? Is India then, a country of the educated but uncivilized?
Shame on you, me and every other citizen of this country for turning a blind eye to this kind of bastardize!
Another question that needs an answer from this society is- “what is a woman?”
A womb? A body? A vaginal opening?
All agree in recognizing the fact that females exist in the human species. Today, as always, they make up about one half of humanity. And yet we are told that femininity is in danger. If today femininity no longer exists, then it never existed. But does the word “woman” then have no specific content?
This is not a note on feminism because the subject is irritating and enough ink has already been spilled quarrelling over feminism. I wrap up by borrowing a few lines from “Modern Woman: The Lost Sex” by Dorothy Parker, (which in other respects has its irritating features), ‘......my idea is that all of us, men as well as women should be regarded as human beings.....:
Happy 2011!
People on the streets were in a mood for celebration. Now when I say people, it is particularly emphasized that there were hardly any women to be seen. The men, (‘testosterone charged beings’ as I call them) were staring and ogling excessively at almost al the available, faint traces of femininity they could manage to find on the street.
This made me wonder from where these men get the idea that whenever there is a reason to celebrate; they can get drunk and charge upon any female who passes by.
According to my limited knowledge, nowhere it is said that on the New Year’s Eve, the streets are reserved for men. Then why is it that we find absolutely no woman out on the streets of the metro?
Does this mean that even in public, amidst the presence and protection of her family, a woman is vulnerable? If the answer to the last question is in the affirmative, then why the bloody hell is this country called a democracy? Is India then, a country of the educated but uncivilized?
Shame on you, me and every other citizen of this country for turning a blind eye to this kind of bastardize!
Another question that needs an answer from this society is- “what is a woman?”
A womb? A body? A vaginal opening?
All agree in recognizing the fact that females exist in the human species. Today, as always, they make up about one half of humanity. And yet we are told that femininity is in danger. If today femininity no longer exists, then it never existed. But does the word “woman” then have no specific content?
This is not a note on feminism because the subject is irritating and enough ink has already been spilled quarrelling over feminism. I wrap up by borrowing a few lines from “Modern Woman: The Lost Sex” by Dorothy Parker, (which in other respects has its irritating features), ‘......my idea is that all of us, men as well as women should be regarded as human beings.....:
Happy 2011!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Guzaarish and me....
Mr.Bansali's "Guzaarish" happened about a month ago.The quality of the movie is not of any importance here because what purturbed my mind is whether there should be a certain border line between theatre and cinema.
It was after this that I happened to watch Mr.Shaji.N.Karun's much talked about "Kutty Srank" and here again what i witnessed was a world of non-personal story telling with too much of symbolic representations. The cinema lover in me is confused. I do agree with the contention that such kind of story telling creates a certain depth and graduates from a mediocre film to a film of class.But how does one devise the grammar of such a film in a manner that will get audience to the theatres?
At the end of it all,the question is,what does a good cinema mean-that it should get the bumps on the seats or that it should create a world of depth and create the effect of reading a Gabriel Marquez book?
I am still looking for the answer.
It was after this that I happened to watch Mr.Shaji.N.Karun's much talked about "Kutty Srank" and here again what i witnessed was a world of non-personal story telling with too much of symbolic representations. The cinema lover in me is confused. I do agree with the contention that such kind of story telling creates a certain depth and graduates from a mediocre film to a film of class.But how does one devise the grammar of such a film in a manner that will get audience to the theatres?
At the end of it all,the question is,what does a good cinema mean-that it should get the bumps on the seats or that it should create a world of depth and create the effect of reading a Gabriel Marquez book?
I am still looking for the answer.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Raavan
This year's much awaited Mani Ratnam magnum opus Raavan has finally hit the theatres.The movie has been receiving mixed reviews all over the world.
I feel that the movie is devoid of soul.It tries to reinterpret Raamayana and turn it into Ravanayana.The movie attempts to reveal the true side of Raavana and state that the eliete class is not always on the side of righteousness.
Agreed that the idea is brilliant and that the making of the film reflects the intellect that Mani Ratnam is,but the script simply lacks connection and the movie becomes an ongoing repetition of itself for a very long duration.With very vague parallels to the current maoist mess and the corrupted beaurocracy in India,the movie definetly created a spark of thoughts in the mind of the viewer but it does not contain the completeness of Ratnam's other gems like Yuva,Guru,Roja and Bombay.
Abhishek Bachan gives a dissapointing performance as Beera,Vikram is comparatively better as Dev and Aishwarya as Ragini is charming but lacks genuinty.Govinda as Sanjeevni(aka hanuman) acts almost like a baffoon while Priya Mani as Jamuniya has done justice to her part.
The photography is brilliant but the problem is that very often the viewer feels that he is witnessing the "Fear Factor" show on AXN.The jumps and other stunts performed by the characters looked forced and unnecessary sometimes.
A.R.Rehman has come up with enchanting and distinct music but none of the songs have been picturised that well.The songs also seem forced into the visuals.The best number "beera beera" has also ben underutilised and has ben made the title song.
Inspite of having flaws,I do not feel that Raavan is a horrible film or that Mani Ratnam is a mediocre director.It is just that this time,Ratnam seems to have got a little lost with the script.The film definetly does raise relevant questions related to morality,class conflicts and the pseudo displays of affection between people.Even though Raavan is not this year's best movie,it definetly is better than the usual bollywood masala flicks,Karan Johar's family dramas and Ram Gopal Verma ki Aag!!
I feel that the movie is devoid of soul.It tries to reinterpret Raamayana and turn it into Ravanayana.The movie attempts to reveal the true side of Raavana and state that the eliete class is not always on the side of righteousness.
Agreed that the idea is brilliant and that the making of the film reflects the intellect that Mani Ratnam is,but the script simply lacks connection and the movie becomes an ongoing repetition of itself for a very long duration.With very vague parallels to the current maoist mess and the corrupted beaurocracy in India,the movie definetly created a spark of thoughts in the mind of the viewer but it does not contain the completeness of Ratnam's other gems like Yuva,Guru,Roja and Bombay.
Abhishek Bachan gives a dissapointing performance as Beera,Vikram is comparatively better as Dev and Aishwarya as Ragini is charming but lacks genuinty.Govinda as Sanjeevni(aka hanuman) acts almost like a baffoon while Priya Mani as Jamuniya has done justice to her part.
The photography is brilliant but the problem is that very often the viewer feels that he is witnessing the "Fear Factor" show on AXN.The jumps and other stunts performed by the characters looked forced and unnecessary sometimes.
A.R.Rehman has come up with enchanting and distinct music but none of the songs have been picturised that well.The songs also seem forced into the visuals.The best number "beera beera" has also ben underutilised and has ben made the title song.
Inspite of having flaws,I do not feel that Raavan is a horrible film or that Mani Ratnam is a mediocre director.It is just that this time,Ratnam seems to have got a little lost with the script.The film definetly does raise relevant questions related to morality,class conflicts and the pseudo displays of affection between people.Even though Raavan is not this year's best movie,it definetly is better than the usual bollywood masala flicks,Karan Johar's family dramas and Ram Gopal Verma ki Aag!!
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