Tuesday, November 20, 2012

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.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

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.

You have come along way from home

You have come a long way from home,
from winter nights spent huddled around
the meiphu, when you were a bright-eyed
shiny-nosed eight year old listening to Ebok
telling you stories of Keibu Keioiba, the sole
candle in the room dripping wax on the mudfloor
of the spartan room, her bare belongings hung
on the walls,and the wind lashed on the
curtainless window, interspersed with rain.
You know you have come a long way from
home because you have forgotten the dance-steps,
 dropped the rhythm of grace in your walk,
 your hair no longer holds the leihou,
you speak a strange language.
And then you have to unlearn so many things,
 how to eat, what to eat, how to court,
 and be courted. You have come away
dreaming dreams sometimes not yours
sometimes bearing the collected memories
of a people who have seen too much
 but forgotten much.
You have come a long way but
Ima still asks when you would start back for home.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

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.

Monday, November 12, 2012

With tea? A heart of tea?

You are not good at being alone. your feet
find themselves pacing up and down
the little room. too little space. you would
 think it would explode with the sum of
exaggerated loneliness.
You are not good at being alone. It makes
you want things which you can't get.
reconciliation, for instance.not the
conversations that go here and there
and never really speak just hollow words
to keep the semblance of normalcy
when you are burning with pride,hurt
 and thwarted efforts. you drink too much tea,
you fill mugfulls as though you are filling
 your loneliness, the emptiness
in your heart.
With tea? A heart of tea?

Thursday, November 1, 2012

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

You tell yourself it will be alright,
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.