Iron Curtains


When teenage marched in to my life with its naughty smile

A red curtain of safety fell upon me;

A warning to take care, because I was a woman;

It was not the safety wall but jackal under a goat skin.

Revelation did not lead me out…

By then the patriarchal chains upon my freedom had become inseparable

The chains had grown choking my body and soul.

Nobody realised the suffocation beneath the purdah…

Days of loneliness were painful mentally and physically …

I remained unwanted for even the gods…

The goddesses, too, kept away from the sinned creature;

Their mouth must have been shut by the patriarchal Gods, poor beings!

If it was for the men, wouldn't they have boasted of their power to bleed?

Don’t you see the irony?

'Mens'truation too denied her a position for her,

As always, it was his story.

Menstruation is not any more a cage…

It’s the reminder of that fire which has not subsided yet…

Pour oil dear sisters,

Till that fire burns and melts all those chains around your soul.

Menstruation is not any more a jinxed word,

Speak up, why bother? For its how you can remind people of your potential.

The seven days are dark days any more...

Each day as you twist and turn in your bed,

As you smile hiding the irritation of the wetness …

Remember every drop should remind how much you can suffer…

Burn the chains... break the cage... It's high time to spread the wings!

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