A little disclaimer: This particular piece is not a critique of the ideology of marriage itself, but the warped manner in which it is used to keep young women in check. To prevent them from breaking through the heavily-manned barriers created for them by society.
Yes, I waited a great big while For my knight in shining armour to arrive To sweep me off my impatient feet To finally enable me to start living my life.
He came to our door, not on a steed - That’s the whimsical stuff of fairytales Not really rigged for the 21st century. The rest of the story I was sure prevailed.
And so he came to our house in a car His mother and his sisters too I dutifully served them tea and samosas His eyes were fixed on me like glue
I tried to think of what I felt Did he stir something in my heart Did I feel a like-mindedness Was he the catalyst to my big, bright start!
The only thing rolling around in my head The only thing that I could really see Was the freedom to do all that I couldn’t before That sunlit pathway stretched ahead of me
I remember I smiled a little too avidly He grinned like a loon right back And so it was decided auspiciously That we’d be married in three months stat!
The wedding was done, it was T-plus six months And I sat at my dressing table I looked at the face of the woman in front Was she the euphoric lass of fables?
She looked back at me confusedly I pretended I didn’t quite read What her eyes were so desperately telling me - That rabbit hole was just too deep.
I looked away, this wasn’t the first time Of my inability to face the ghosts Of broken hearts and shattered dreams Of being deluded, of feeling lost
I had grown up believing with all my being That my best life lay ahead When I took on the mantle of someone’s wife That’s what age-old tradition said
But that’s not true, I now know When I can’t look at myself in the mirror There are shackles anew, I’m so confused My dreams couldn’t have been frailer
And so I wait yet again, but now Free of archaic norms and guiles For when I can find the courage to be Who I really am, who I have been all this while.
I saw a little spider today Weaving itself a pathway; In silken thread and zestful strides It made its way up the side Of the glass wall close to me I kept watching it carefully Partly because horror flicks Have made me squirm around these arachnids But mostly because of the enterprise It put into its little life
It climbed halfway up the glass And then a gust of wind alas! Tore its thready ladder up It swayed before going plop! Right onto the table where I sat with my coffee to stare At this busy creature lift Its body up bit by bit
I moved back in mild alarm Not because I’d come to harm That was not the thought I had My arachnophobia got me to stand It sat there a little concussed I think Before it gathered up its wits And off it went climbing again Forming anew, repairing
With so much drama in its life Buffeting winds, with predators rife The spider stays focused on its goals It weaves its web, mends broken holes. We can learn a thing or eight From this marvellous arachnid - To go on even when we’ve gone plop! To persevere, to climb back up Folks, if little spidey can be A superhero, so can we.
She’s probably flown in on her witch’s broom As her sullen starchiness sweeps the room She looks around her and she spies Young women having a good time She glowers at the girls No dupattas covering their shirts! The lines between her brows grow grim Huddling together like dowager twins Then they rise up in stark rebuke Clamouring, hammering “I’m judging you!”
He sits in the cafe looking around A smoking gun dangling from his mouth As he peers over the smoke It’s gnarled fingers like a cloak Hide the vileness in his eyes He stares at the woman who sits alone She ignores his lecherous stare He taps his gun, his yellow teeth bared Smoke-grey lips curl into an ugly “U” Leering, sneering “I’m judging you!”
This judiciary are the insidious dregs Of a society that has no legs No kind eyes. Their hearts are still Yet they sit there determined to fill Precious spaces in our lives With their hats and their beehives. They hold on to crass old ways As their own insecurities play Out an age old tune Croaking, choking “I’m judging you!”
Give not a hoot nor a call To them sitting in their Halls Of Judgement. They are not fit Not a thimble, not a whit! Stand your ground with those that will Force upon you their own bitter pills Calmly cut them down to size Look them in their jaundiced eyes When you spy their mottled souls Their power fades to judge you at all
Live your life how you will Reach for the stars, ride the wind May you always find your spark Even when all around you is dark Move away when you feel dragged Down, down; making you feel bad. Build within you your own compass Of dignity, courage and kindness So that the only one ever judging you Is YOU dear one, only ever you.
I see her sitting under the tree Dignified and serene even as she is encircled In the cumbersome arms of poverty. Destitution has cloaked her for many years From head to toe it has persevered. But still There are nuances of grace and light; Of a decorum that has bested the blight.
Sparse hair is pulled back into a little knot Threadbare clothes are mended and clean Calloused feet wear leather sandals Thousands of steps etched into their seams. She sits there solitary and separate Her expression is one of learned abjection As she labours on in her enterprise To live another day, to go on, to survive.
But every so often, when there is a lull In the cresting and falling human swell Where she sits, under the leafy canopy The wretchedness leaves her face And in its place Shines a serene and quiet majesty A poise, a stateliness Quietly they still linger in her being. Even as she sits under the tree To beseech, to plead, to request I can still see the queen.
“I love you and only you You fill my heart in every way I will be but a shell if you Call it quits and leave me some day” Said the man with the twisted lips As he held her close, hands on her hips He’d done this a lot and then changed gears The words felt absurd even to his own ears.
She looked into eyes that were gleaming with fire Was it hope, was it love, was it lustful desire? The three entities then followed behind As she walked into the space of her heart and her mind There she sat them down, the judicious sleuth And looked into their faces now lit up with truth Hope sat there wilted, there was hardly a trace Of sincerity and faith on its mottled face Love was like a wraith of its radiant self Like old dust that had drifted off of the shelf Smouldering away in the furthest corner With sly little tentacles sat covetous Desire It looked at her trying to hide its true hues But in the light of the soul that was hard to do.
She lifted the heavy hands from her hips Bestowed a smile from her beautiful lips “I suppose I should say a heartfelt thank you But I won’t; those words, they just don’t ring true”.
For all the girls, and the women young and old, who are made to feel less, inferior or impaired because they have dreams that are different to the ones dreamt up for them by others. May you find the strength and the passion to be you.
Why must I be what I don’t want to be? Why must I change the state of my dreams? Why must I cower in fear of my world? Why must the story of my life stay untold?
Why must I hide myself away? Why must I look behind me always? Why must there always be danger to me? To my spirit, my soul, my mind, my body?
Why can I not laugh out loud when I want? Why must I hide all my joy in my heart? Why can’t I turn my face to the sun? Why must I hide in the shadows you’ve spun?
Why must I bear the ball and chain of my roots? Why must I remain invisible and mute? Why was I born if not to revel In life’s ever cresting and falling swell?
I’m a child of this world, let me roam free Let me think, let me speak, let me be me I’m a creature of this earth, I belong everywhere Let me spread my wings, let me lay my heart bare
Let me be, let me be, just what I want to be Let me dream, let me dream, what I want to dream Let me walk in this world unafraid and kind Let my life tell the story of my heart and my mind.
KINDNESS, it’s such a simple thing And yet we speak of it like it was the benevolence of kings DIGNITY, such a basic quality And yet we are in awe of it like it was the Pope’s homily COURAGE, that gritty stuff of warriors! We speak of it like it was an unmasterable barrier HONESTY, its whiteness, and its shades of grey Always so elusive, like catching the sun’s rays Being SELF-AWARE, that dialogue with one’s core Only Maharishis* can ever open up that door
Depleting self-suggestion tells us How unconquerable are the odds Of mastering these exalted traits; This stuff of Allamahs* and gods. Look within yourself and tell me That you don’t see the shimmer Of all these “divine” elements Some bright, some a little dimmer
It’s time to wrap yourself in your kindness and dignity To feel the potent warmth of your courage and honesty That is you, that’s how you were built to be Take your inertia and your self doubt And finally throw them out to sea.
* Maharishi: A great Hindu sage or spiritual leader
* Allamah: An honorary and prestigious title carried by only the very highest scholars of Islamic thought, jurisprudence, and philosophy. It is used as an honorific in Sunni Islam as well as in Shia Islam. Allamah is a leader for the Islamic faith.
Mahvash Mohtadullah - The Roaming Desi 