When he told me I was full of contradictions,that I say one thing about being this strong independent woman who doesn't care about how people perceive me, I didn't know what to say apart from being slightly hurt. Someone had once told me I was very gullible, too weak to face the world. I was twelve years old then and I vowed to shield myself. I would not be gullible, I would not give in. To whatever that she thought I usually gave in to. I was young and foolish. I am still young and foolish both. I daresay I would be old and foolish too.
I am not clear about many things, be it about myself or others or even poetry. I am constantly adding and subtracting emotions and thoughts. How can I be expected not to change and remain the same, constituting the same thoughts and feelings? Sometimes I think as a woman or to-be-woman, certain things are expected of me. On on hand, I am expected to be the quintessential feminist, disdaining frivolous activities such as fashion and maybe even men altogether. On the other hand my mother wants me to be fairly balanced about things, observe the traditions, sometimes even reject some progressive things because they don't fit in with social norms and so on and so forth as most of you might already know. And in these many ways,I am being confronted with options forced down my throat. Clearly, I am not being given the choice the make up my own option. I am constantly being told this and that. Do's and Don'ts.
Sometimes I think I would love to have a place of my own but then again I wouldn't want to stay too long either. Yes, I am a living walking breathing contradiction and yes, I don't think of substantial reasons for doing the things I do because if I spent my time finding reasons, I would probably have starved to death by now. And then there is poetry, I have my books and my poetry to protect me, I am shielded in my armour.  But you broke that armour for me and now that I need it, I can't find it anymore.

How can you eat so slow?

I am getting my money's worth,

each rupee's worth.

You are so immersed,

Like a three year old

Hanging onto the summer's last

Ice-cream, until next year.

A sign of assurance

You joined it and that surprised you
because that's not what you would
 have done if you knew what it was
you wandered into it and you stayed
because it gave you slogans to
channel the anguish you have
borne ever since you took your first
breath, the first time you were
told you couldn't do this and that
 because that's not what girls do, the
first time you picked up a book in
 which the woman author wrote
with a man pseudonym, or the time
the first slave was separated from
 his family in America, saw the bullet
ridden eight year old girl's body
tossed into the swamp, hear him
 telling me "Why are you so desperate
 to go back?"" Why do you do this
to me?" and you don't seem to know
 enough, because you are a fool
 and you want to please everyone,
you are scared of ending up
a total failure or knee-deep in mediocrity,
 but then again you don't
want to lose out on him and that's
why you ask him for a sign of assurance.

Because you don't know why you are the way you are

You tell yourself it will be alright,
Sometimes
Most times
It weighs you down
It leaves claw marks
And you don't know how it came,
 Like an avalanche of frustration
And you.just.don't.want.to.go.on.anymore.
Because you have lost so much
 And gained what?
Nothing to show.
Just shadows.
And the dark.
The screaming silence.
Because this is all that is left of you.
Words. Tears. A mind tearing itself apart.
A descend to quiet madness.
Because you don't know why you are the way you are.