Skip to main content

"Stayfree" in "whispers"

There are days when I don't want to be a woman,
No, don't you get confused,
I take pride in who I am.
I take pride in all those abstractions which make me a human
Yet, as I said, there are days...
Days when you spend life like an untouchable.
Separate plates, separate beds, restricted entries, restrictions on what you eat and breathe!
They say I have Brahmin blood,
They say it right perhaps but I smell diplomacy
For I don't see what sets me apart! I don't smell purity
I rarely offer prayers, I sing no hymns
I don't seek God in idols.
When did my realisation found home?, you may ask.
I was 11 when I became a woman.
"Sit like a girl, act like a girl, think like a girl ", that became my birthday jingle .
I had bled one night and I thought I had got hurt
I expected them to take me to a doctor
I was thrown into a dark room instead
" Don't look at males ", pronounced my granny
" Why? ", my voice echoed
Because you no more are a girl, you are a woman!
When did I become one? , a voice in my head wanted to know.
For my limbs hadn't grown overnight, nor had I incurred any special sign!
I didn't know that my body parts carried shame.
Mounds of flesh needed to be hidden under layers
Boys no more fitted as team mates
Adventures suddenly found no room.
I felt I was cursed, cursed to be a woman!
As I outgrew my sleeves, I couldn't outgrow my shame
I always had a lurking fear that
Peering gazes would rip me as I crossed streets
I had to be careful, careful enough to avoid mistakes
I couldn't be at temples, couldn't be at rituals
I was an untouchable and so were the rest who bled
"Stayfree" came home in "whispers"
Freedom, life's greatest irony.
Yet, I saw hoardings which celebrated womanhood.
There were slogans which glorified motherhood.
And yet, there you would find a girl in every street
Holding her breath in terror as she crosses streets,
If this is what takes it to be a woman,
I don't want to be one.
I don't want to be glorified
I don't want anything that sets me apart as a woman
If I want anything for me or girls around me
Is to bleed in peace
To live in peace
For this isn't what restricts us as woman
We didn't choose it, rather it chose us.

And...

My "Stayfree" no longer comes in "whispers"!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing

Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents.  It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could

What do you want to be?

While I was in my 10th standard, almost everyone I met wanted to know what I wanted to be. This question always perplexed me. From the lens of a fifteen year kid who was not yet sure of the changes which awaited in the near future, this question gave me nightmares. I would constantly sit by the mirror and ask myself, what actually would be my answer. My friends always had fancy answers at their disposal. They would confidently chirp whenever any one asked about it. What amused me most was, my friend who had no inkling to study Biology wanted to be a doctor and another friend who detested the idea of even cooking noodles, wanted to be a chef! But whenever they spoke about their wishes, they would always sound confident. And there I was, fumbling for words which refused to escape my lips. It was not until I entered Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya to do my plus two, I found my voice. The teachers there have a different way of viewing life. For the first time, I no longer felt the classroom