I wake up, sun shining too bright,
or is it that I find the room dark?
Eyes flinch to see this fearless harbinger
I close my eyes, get ready for today.
I look at the bedsheet, flowers there are,
colorful, hues of parrot green and cherry red
I stare, too deep, lost in colours so vivid
Maybe life is black, or I've shut my eyes.
Sensing back the world I live in, I steady,
to get ready, don my mask, that
even I did not create, but moulded by others
the hopes, complaints, aspirations, expectations.
Clothes, I see, bundled in the corner, crumpled.
Another botheration, what to cover myself in
This, also, revolves around others, I see
Am I living my life, or am I part of the Play?
Mirror stares back at me, its I who look down
This skirt, no maybe its a bit short
short enough to excite the beasts around
I shall wear it tomorrow, I lie to myself.
Now I turn to my favorite top, I like it
But the last time I adorned it, a rogue had whistled
No, there it goes on the heap, where the skirt lay
Maybe next time, when I go to my friend's house.
Hangers dangle, as I push them, I find a salwaar suit
the laces and sequins dont please me
that bus conductor had held my dupatta, bastard,
I feel an impulse of repulse, I still shudder.
This exercise now tires me, I manage to stand
and choose a white salwaar kameez, no
without the sparkles and the beads this time
hoping I pass unnoticed, the devils remain oblivious to my
feminity.
I see the bangles and the danglers in my closet,
how tastefully had I collected them, preserved them
Now they are becoming a distant memory, the
dreams in which I see them make the memories.
Maybe tomorrow, I assure the girl in meI shall wear what I want,
how I wish, but inside,
I know that tomorrow will become one of those
uncountable tomorrows that compose my fantasy.
I am ready, I look up in the mirror finally
Hope I look unattractive, plain, useless catch
My mother approves, but tells me
to tie the tresses in a bun, it may call attention.
Nay, I say, I like them down, they cover me up
but sadness overcomes her face, and I surrender.
Distastefully confine them in a messy bundle
and satisfied, I pray to my Gods and leave.
I check my bag, Ah! the new companions I greet,
Pepper and chilli sprays, emergency numbers, a torch,
have replaced the lip balms and sunscreens,
What use do they have?, my mother had said.
I enter the lift, two boys I see,
too late to back out, too early to call for help.
They scrutinise me, head to toe, the everyday scan
I undergo, millions of times.
I ignore, they comment, caustic, acidic
words I can bear, but the scars hurt
Doors open, I hurry, rather scurry out
they snicker, Ah, so typical of this folk.
Now its the autowallahs, I remind myself,
I board one, aware of the lewd stare,
a biker waits near me, in the jam
looks in, that lascivious scan again, I bear.
I become blind, deaf, dumb, to everything around
I am in a nightmare, it will end, I lie
I walk, thinking of those Bollywood songs I hear on the radio
near,
What is it? Ah yes, Fevicol.
I laugh, the imaginary world of Sheela, Munni and so may others,
they dance, the beasts enjoy, we suffer.
If only they knew, the gruesome world outside
their high security, bodyguard safety.
I am today's woman, who dared to step out,
to struggle, to bear the brunt,
of my sin of being a child bearer.
Yes, it is me who is responsible for what happens, they say.
Neha Maniktala
BBA LLB, 2nd Semester
Division:B
