I feel the pull I feel the glimmer It surrounds me, it’s all around me I freeze as it coaxes me Out of the grip of my sanity I stop struggling And let it pull me in I drown Down, down In the tsunami gushing Inside my mind But only for a breath.
I resurface then In my other world My secret one Where I have no anxiety Where I don’t want to run And hide I’m beside A swing in the garden And a rocking chair. I smile. They both hold the comfort And the softness of old friends They rest there quietly.
I sit in the swing I push with my feet And peek through the leaves At the golden-red sky I can’t see them But I can hear the birds I think it is dusk A velvety glow wraps my world Golden paisleys and whorls Dance around my feet As I sway gently in my seat Dappled sunlight cloaks My shoulders like angels wings As I weave to and fro on the swing
I breathe out, my muscles untense I’m far away from cause and consequence No memories, no sorrows No yesterdays, no tomorrows It is Now and Now is everything I lean back In the swing She holds me softly In her cushioning I close my eyes. I hear something Someone is calling me Voices from far away But my lids are so heavy I can’t keep awake In the tranquil buzz Of the honey bees And the gentle murmur Of the almond trees Like wraiths the voices fade away
I’m finally home, unbound, pain-free I lay my head back and sleep.
She’s not here anymore. She’s gone Adrift in the tangle of her dreams.
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 am home 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
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.
Mahvash Mohtadullah - The Roaming Desi 