Tag: socialissues

VERSE | GRIT

On By Mahvash K. M.In hope, poetry, verse, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment

For all the women and the men supporting them; for all those who get up every morning and despite all odds make it through the day surviving, shining, rising. For the friends and families of Sara, Mahsa, Noor, Qurat Ul Ain and of the countless nameless others like them: your grit is everything.

When it’s been tormenting
Day after day. With no respite
And I just don’t have it in me to fight 
To battle on 
When I’m war-weary 
When there is no end in sight 
And all I want to do 
Is sit in a dark room 
And let its coolness shroud me 
Until I can feel the hair
Stand on my skin. There 
Is suddenly more to the day
Than the heaviness in my heart 
And the endlessness of the grey
That has been flowing, gripping choking me 
Keeping me doubled down on my knees 
There’s more beyond that malevolent mien
Images, memories driving me insane

Now - 

Now there is also something 
On the outside of me 
A little chill 
A little photo on the window sill 
Both pull at me in different ways 
One makes icicles 
To sear through 
The magma that has congealed 
Inside of me 
The other makes my blood flow warm 
Streaming, coursing through my veins 
Reminding me that I’m not alone 
My spirit and my fortitude 
Still cloak my shoulders 
Strong and true 
I sit up straight 
As they reverberate 
Through every atom of my being 
And they chant 
An age old song 
Of others like me 
Who’ve fought on
Their hearts fused forever 
With the loved ones they’ve lost
And I know 
That I’m not wielding my sword alone

VERSE | ALONE, JAWAB-E-SHIKWA*

On By Mahvash K. M.In hope, poetry, verse, writing3 Comments 
I laugh unabashedly, from the belly out 
Someone has said something absurd
They all watch me in derision and doubt
This woman who shouldn’t be seen or heard
She speaks! What social license does she bear?
She’s no debutante, she’s no political heir
Yet she comes to these exclusive soirées 
And instead of blurring, fading away 
Into the background, this upstart lets down her hair 

I walk out gaily, dressed like a queen
I bump into my neighbour, the virulent Sameen
Her face already garbed in a smug smile
She says “Where to Maha? So dressed to kill?”
I laugh loudly, her smile falters a bit
“Just to the market, to get some things 
A shirt from Sapphire, two thootis* of kheer*
A tub of it’s-none-of-your-business-my-dear
Is there something you would like me to bring?

I’ve been alone these twenty five years 
But I’ve never been lonely, I decided that early
I surmounted my doubts conquered my fears
It wasn’t easy, it took a few years
It took some lonesomeness, some vanishing acts
From folks I called friends and even family who cracked
Under the pressure of seeing me break out
Of the box built for me by the socially devout 
But I dug in my heels, I wasn’t going back 

Now there are friends and well wishers anew
In all that chaff, I found these gems too
They give me hope, they let me be me
It’s been food for my soul, this honesty
I know who I am and who I want to be
And it’s not a reflection of what society
Has plotted and planned for someone that swerves
Through fate or design, outside its bell curve 
I’m contented, eccentric and oh so happy!
* Jawab-e-Shikwa: “Shikwa” (Complaint in Urdu) and “Jawab-e-Shikwa” (Response to Complaint) are poems written by the poet Mohammad Iqbal. They are known for their lyrical beauty and depth of thought

* Thooti: a small clay saucer in which some Pakistani and Indian desserts are sold in order to keep them cool and fresh

* Kheer: rice pudding in Urdu

VERSE | ALONE

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, truth, verse, womenwriters, writing4 Comments 
I’m alone … but I’m not really alone
In all the ways that don’t matter 
That shouldn’t matter, I’m never alone 
In all the ways that I need someone 
In all the ways of being human 
I’m alone. There is no one.

It wasn’t always like this, this lonesomeness 
It came on slowly as time went by 
As I transitioned, nay devolved
Dislodged from the blessed marital fold
From a wife to a wretched divorcee 
From a daughter to a social deportee 

I couldn’t be the woman he’d conceptualised 
His wife to be. Already fantasizing 
He was in heaven itself, spoilt for choice
By the virgins lined up in waiting
For him to pick one or four to be his own 
I got picked first, then I got disowned. 

I’ve been alone these twenty years 
Fading ever more into the background 
As time trudges on with heavy treads 
My aura fades, my voice has no sound 
I tried to talk louder at first to be heard
But the booming voices of the world 
Were louder still, my voice was drowned 

Now I sit here alone marking time 
For when the cosmos sees fit to smile 
In a new welcome; in a  final decline
I see people but they see me not 
They saw me only when I came out
Of the box, against the tide of tradition 
Then there was outrage, there was derision 

I don’t go out anymore nor do I 
Try to be bigger than the box fitted for me 
I sit in it quietly, patiently
Lonely oh so lonely … but not really 
In all the ways that shouldn’t matter 
Im not alone. They all watch me 
In all the ways that would make my heart sing 
I’m alone, waiting for the final curtain.

VERSE | WHY?

On By Mahvash K. M.In writingLeave a comment 
Why? She asks me why do I
Not get to do the things that he
Does so freely, so independently 
Cavorting with opportunities 
Expanding his experience of the world
That we both live in, why just he?

Why? She asks me why am I 
Held back by you and the others
The elders of the family
The uncles and the brothers
For my own good I’m told
Walled in like Rapunzel, from the world?

Why? She asks me why can’t I
Go out on my own. Why can’t I
Even stay alone at home?
Why have I been singled out
Among my siblings as the burdensome one
The ill-fated sister among the men?

Why? She asks me have you built
These rules to limit my existence 
Holding me back, making me doubt
Myself, my being, my purpose in life
Strangling my dreams to always stand
Centuries behind a boy or a man?

Why? She asks me why are you
Complicit in this chauvinistic ruse?
Why did you learn to become small
To deliberately set yourself up for a fall?
You were better than everyone
A hero …. No a heroine!

You my mother, the architect 
Of dreams, of hopes and even homes
Why did you let it all go?
Why are you expecting me to do 
The same, be a wraith of myself 
A fragile decoration on the shelf

Until I become someone’s wife
Until you can pass on the keys of my life
To someone else … to some man else
Why? She asks me as the tears well
In eyes that see the truth of the world
That see the expanse of her wretched road

That is why they killed them all off
The babies, the girls born centuries ago
There was divine justice in that
Saving them from a world that sat
In Judgement, in anger, in self pride
Over girls that survived the infanticide 

Tell me mother, why was I
Born a woman into this life?
Why was I born into this home
My dignity defaced, my wings shorn?
Why do I feel like to get a fair try 
At life, another life, I first must die?

NOW AVAILABLE IN PAKISTAN! “The Girl with the Paisley Dupatta and Other Stories”

On By Mahvash K. M.In newbook, writingLeave a comment

Dear friends and family,

“The Girl with the Paisley Dupatta and other Stories” and “Curious Animals…” are NOW AVAILABLE IN PAKISTAN at the following locations:

LIBERTY BOOKS at all their locations in KARACHI and LAHORE

PARAMOUNT BOOKS in KARACHI (Main bookstore at PECHS and the Agha Khan bookstore)
Paramount Books in FAISALABAD and in ISLAMABAD

ORDER YOUR BOOKS ONLINE AT:

http://libertybooks.com and

https://paramountbooks.com.pk/

Do get your copies; and do let me know what you think 🤓

Here’s to Reading, Dreaming and Becoming 🌸

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSdSbbFuA/

VERSE | THE FAIRYTALE

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, socialissues, truth, verse, writing2 Comments

A little disclaimer: This particular piece is not a critique of the institution 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.

LISTEN TO THE POEM BEING READ AT: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSddAaCSr/?k=1
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 now
That sunlit pathway stretched ahead of me

I remember I smiled a little too much
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 mythical notions and guiles 
For when I can find the courage to be 
Who I am, who I really have been all this while.

VERSE | DO YOU REMEMBER?

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, truth, verse, writingLeave a comment 
Do you remember when you felt the blood
Gushing through your body
You felt it etch into your being
All the kindness, courage and love 
That you thought you could ever feel
And your heart sang!

Do you remember how your breath
Caught in your throat. The sheer shock 
Of those emotions rocking you inside
You felt so overwhelmed that your tear ducts 
Felt the strain. You blinked your wet eyes
And your heart sang!

You looked straight ahead
The wave kept rising in your chest
You felt like you were everything 
That you were meant to be. Your atoms ricocheted 
With those around you. Nature played 
A little bit of handball as she caught 
Your atoms in her hands and passed her own to you
And your heart sang!

Do you remember feeling like this was 
The perfect moment in your time
In your space, in your place
And everything had come together that day to remind you
That your heart was aligned with all
That defined you as the happiest version of yourself
And oh your heart, it sang!

You don’t remember - not really. Neither do I. I mean 
I remember the warmth in my being, the love flowing out
In waves, in rivers. A oneness with the essence of the world
But beyond that, I can’t remember; I can’t evoke the feeling
Something has gone awry, something has been lost 
Along the way 
But I still see its ghost flitting
Vaguely passing before my eyes when I am still
But my heart, it doesn’t sing.

VERSE | THE CARPING JUDICIARY

On By Mahvash K. M.In writing1 Comment 
LISTEN TO THE POEM BEING READ AT:  https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSeopaVK6/
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.

BOOK LAUNCH! THE GIRL WITH THE PAISLEY DUPATTA

On By Mahvash K. M.In Shortstory, writing2 Comments

Dear all,

It is with a mixture of joy, some pride and truckloads of excitement that I announce the publishing of my second book – my book of short stories. This enterprise of the heart has been in the making for the past two years and has finally culminated into an anthology of tales.

It is said that shame dies when stories are told in safe places. THE GIRL WITH THE PAISLEY DUPATTA AND OTHER STORIES forges within its pages the sanctity and dignity that allow fragile stories to become powerful, purposeful, healing and exhilarating epics of personal courage and enterprise.

Many of the stories within this book are from outside the bell curve of our lives, and come straight from the truth-telling corners of the heart: from the brutal vigilante justice dispensed in the name of religion in “The Gods of Fury”; to the harrowing custom of honour revenge in the “Sins of our Fathers”; to the patriarchal ruthlessness that so many young women are subjected to in the title story “The Girl with the Paisley Dupatta”.

Others are stories of women and men negotiating life, love, friendship, careers and tradition in the sometimes tumultuous and many times limiting folds of their families and their communities: from the love affair of the enterprising 61 year old Nighat in “Love in Rawalpindi”; to the shenanigans of a dancing queen in “Riotous Love”; to the complicated friendship between two society girls in “Days of Purgatory”.

The last three stories in the book are a tribute to that most ingenious art form, political satire.

These tales will make you laugh, cry and ruminate in equal measure while niggling at the peripheries of conventional value systems.

The book is currently available at the Jam Fruit Tree bookstore on Galle Road in Colombo. I will try and make it available for friends and family in Pakistan and Dubai soon.
To pre-order your copy of the book, please contact me here. It may take me some time, but I will try and get it to you 🤓

VERSE | PARADISE LOST

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, socialissues, truth, verse, writingLeave a comment 
I see a woman standing at the traffic light
Even in her shabbiness, she’s neat and clean
She stands on the wayside wondering 
For the hundredth time what she is doing on the street.
People look at her from their car windows
A nonchalant glance up and then away
Their psycho-social barriers
Comfortingly coming down to save their day
From unpleasant pangs of conscience 
As they niggle at the edges of their minds
The world is troubled, their impact small
Sometimes it’s just better to be blind.

She looks at the faces in the cars
Indifferent, unseeing; wishing her away 
She clutches the hem of her tattered shirt
Picks up the gumption to still walk their way
She looks at a lady who hasn’t averted her eyes
The shame is too much and she swallows hard
Even so, she manages a faint little smile 
Hoping for kindness, compassion, regard
The lady looks up, seeing her for the first time
She’s irritated, she’s irked for letting her guard down
Beggars, pleaders of various requests 
Destroy her peace of mind, she frowns.

She waves a dismissive hand at the sight
And looks away, she will not lock eyes
Maybe the beggar will go to the next car
With her chafing, imploring enterprise 
The woman feels the withering blow
As she hurriedly backs away from the car
The wounds in her heart are bleeding anew
Everyday there are fewer healing scars 
She stumbles back onto the foot path 
Eyes stinging with hopelessness and fatigue 
This world seems done with the likes of her
She too is done with her destiny.

VERSE | YE, CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK!

On By Mahvash K. M.In food, Foot in the Mouth, poetry, satire, verse, writing4 Comments 
I carry this thing, it sits on my shoulder
Some call it a chip; I call it my boulder
It gnaws at my insides, it makes for low blows
When I’m swirling around in its treacherous throes

I am sometimes deceitful when I feel its weight
Dignity and grace I cavalierly leave at the gate
If it tells me I’m worth nothing, that I’m wretchedly small
I’ll lash out blindly at one and all

I grew up believing this weight that I hold
Of inflated egos and machismo bold
Is an age old legacy that’s been bestowed
From father to son and from son down below.

With time, it has morphed into an ugly avatar
Sometimes the pricks of conscience are stark
But driven by habit and custom and time
I let my massive chip drag me into the grime

I’m weaving this rhyme when I’m feeling lucid
And can see the chip: festering and putrid
Most times though it pokes me with its manly muscle:
I could murder that person who honked at my Honda Vezel!

And so I go blundering and blustering through life
Ego in one hand; in the other an invisible knife 
When my shoulder can’t bear the weight of the chip
I unburden, I plot and I rage. I’m insidious.