Towards the left and into the right
not a single heart in sight.
It’s expensive to be a human
And drastic when inhuman.
The conflicts are head high
river air: impossibility dry,
Sharp cries of wounded
growing faint
In one’s own home
everyone is a saint.
See, no help is needed now
No point where, why and how!
Tears are caught in between the lines
suppressed murmuring
as from a wood of pines.
Could one live?
What do they say of hope?
Does, post death
has life any scope?
My being is hanging out with the thought of being myself at almost all the times and the urge to be anything but me.Thought is an act of violence. The urge to be somethingbut me, is the violence against what I am. The urge to be nowhere but near you.
Is it possible for a person to be envious of a place?
To be honest I’m tired of writing about you, tired of writing about writing about you. Whenever I am about to ditch the thought of writing, a desperate poem about how your city is covered in broken hearts, start screming in my lungs. Is your city drowning in broken things or running on it?
I hope the next time you cross a mart, it snows. I hope it snows to the extent that your cold city start shivering, I hope you get a taste of what you’re serving. For atleast 12 days I want the snow to stay there (beauty deceiving hearts), for 12 days are the maximum amount of time you’re capable of loving someone and your city is cruel for 12 months in a row.
Tonight, after reading this, when you’ll call me, I’ll miss 11 of them but pick 12th, for I know you won’t call after 12th. Even though, I promise myself to be better and be me, I lose myself to your city.
A city of tall buildings.
A city of cold hearts.
A city of you.
Centuries ago, during the
course of evolution, humans
brought the whole species
together, on the base of
One belief system; Religion.
We thrived. They say nothing lasts
forever; humans have this obsession
with change,
To know more, To be more.
And now ( fast forward to ‘I’ )
As ‘act of God’
I see my country moulding
beliefs of generations.
God has now become a tool
To control masses; we are given a
Reason to be scared of the sacred.
I see them locked in fancy buildings
like you and me, having
‘no right to speech’, worse,
they can’t even speak because
no one is actually asking them.
/I used to think/
I’m an atheist/
but lately/ I have started to
believe otherwise/ like y’all/
I too have a holy book/
My God is as panicky and breathless
as yours. I watch TV
till my heart starts aching,
I clutch the Constitution
close to my flesh, with hopes
of lending some air to it;
I hear him suffocating.
Then I sleep to the weeping
sound of my God (Constitution);
who cries with all the other Gods
because Gods are dying in my country.
Prompt by Samyak
You try to hide your women
in thin threads of colour
cast
and religion.
You hide them
behind the shattered
ceilings of your sin.
And you tell them
“It’s for your protection”.
You stop women
from going out,
meeting people,
and cover the
thick khol of their eyes
and you tell them
“this is because I love you”.
You beat your women
for having a voice,
a right,
an opinion,
revolutionary sight.
and you tell them
“it’s because you’re mine”.
You are against your women
for having an education,
to get a degree,
and to work in
cooperative sector.
And you tell them
“It’s because you won’t fit”.
You rape your women
because the clothes
were reveling,
her walk was appealing,
and sometimes,
only because of the gender.
And you tell them
“It was your fault”.
Every other day,
You tell your women things
You instruct,
You command
A lot.
And justify saying
“You don’t know enough”.
So, today
I’m here to tell you.
You do all of this
because you know,
1. They don’t need your protection.
2. You’re in love with the bodies.
3. They fit everywhere. Because you know If you can fit in them, they can fit the whole world in them.
4. Every time you say it’s their fault, you show your cowardice in accepting yours.
5. And you definitely know, that your women know A LOT, more than all of you combined. And you’re just scared of the things they know.
And everytime you break a woman, you break yourself.
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