She (by Shivam Bahuguna)

The poem is my perceived narrative of what all women have to face. There are various rules and notions they are supposed to conform to. Sometimes it is a nagging persuasion to conform, sometimes it is blatant oppression. It is my lyrical effort to capture the essence of the varying struggles faced by the women of our nation, with the refrain being a curious question – what really makes a woman.

Written and performed for an open mic session at KMC.

SHE

Woman. Girl. Lady.

So many opinions

So many dictats

It makes me wonder

What makes a she?

She, who must adjust her scarf

Lest the piercing gaze

Makes her feel corroding away.

She,who can avail her worth

If she bears children

And has a pretty face.

She, who must bear the brunt

Of paying her husband

A dowry, yet be a slave.

She, who dares walk a mile

A book in her hand

While bullets fly her way.

Oh tell me. Someone please tell me.

This mysterious, resolute being of power.

What makes her so strong?

What makes a she?

Must she have long smooth hair

The Garnier-approved trait of femininity?

Must she have short, streaked hair to pander

The notions of manic pixie girl of dreams?

Is it vital that she performs pooja

Like a good girl everyday?

Does she have to carry a shy persona

Or be a damsel rescued by a brave?

I wonder what she thinks

When the netas in their palaces

Turn her body into a religious battleground.

I wonder what she thinks

When another little girl goes missing

Never, ever again to be found.

Will she be caged perennially

In an imposing base dichotomy

Of being an angel that can do no wrong

Or an immoral succubus that knows no bound?

Pedestals of praise and worship

Pits of lust and scorn

I wonder when they’ll let her be

A human, standing her ground.

Her being is often surrounded by chains

Chains that expect her to carry them

Chains that whisper sly promises of protection

Chains that seize her, violating her realm.

Yet she defies all. Someone please tell me

This mysterious, resolute being of power

What makes her so strong?

What makes a she?

Of Minotaur and Medusa – A Poem (by Shivam Bahuguna)

As a matter of personal principle, I hate presumptions, and this one is an attempt to be as free from presumptions as possible. There have been a great influx of happenings that I faced in my life where I got to know (and to un-know) people. This poem is a vent to emotions in this tide of events. A small tale of two monsters.

As long as I had known her truly

She would often remind me

Fiercely, righteously, vociferously

That I was a man, and hence

Capable of dealing damage,

To rape, to maim, to violate.

I would look at my hands

And I wonder if that Minotaur

Drunk with aggravated machismo

Really lurked in the labyrinth

Of my consciousness.

She had her own creation

I often met and sparred with

In the hour of a conflict

Or yet another recurring mistake,

Her meticulously built wall

Gilded with surgical silence.

Silence that hung, ruthlessly

Like moist air in a windless night

Begging the question

Blurring the line, between

Companionship and frozen spite.

And I wondered once again

This time, in confusion

Whether the Minotaur of rage

Could ever sting more harshly

Than the Medusa of silence.