I feel a rage It’s not the flaming, blazing kind Nor is it the hating kind It’s disappointment mixed with hurt A betrayal mixed with cheerlessness It’s a whipping, bruising buffeting It’s a faded, jaded trustfulness It’s a crashing and a burning Without smoke, without fire It’s the turning into ash Of something held so close Of something tender and so dear Of a precious, precious thing Of a pearl old as the years.
I feel a rage But in its manifestation There is no acid hotness Only a painful heaviness That sits mostly in my throat Huddled there, straining to emerge In tears or in words I’m capable of neither. Even as it squeezes me Choking, asphyxiating me In its throttling stranglehold I’m hoping for some peace and grace Hoping even in the throes Of this weary, bleary rage.
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.
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.
I saw a little spider today Weaving itself a delicate pathway In silken thread and gentle 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.
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.
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.
Cannons boom, bombs explode The world is the home of war Lieutenants give crisp commands To their soldiers, weary and sore
The tribunal sits in their gilded halls Drinking their whisky tea The senior most is ninety years old The youngest is seventy three
They take pride in stoking this war ‘Tis the battle of righteous men Sending sons and daughters to fight While they cackle in unison
There’s chaos and killing; a dread that is stilling The conflict they’ve wrought makes no sense The old men don’t care, as war trumpets blare Charged by the flourish of their pens
Soon the booming cannons and the bombs Will end their brutal repartee Of slashing and slaying - their bloody tribute paid To their masters across the seas
The dead will be many, they’ll lie in the mud Young soldiers from both sides, together The grief and the pain will be the same In the broken hearts of all the mothers
War is Jang* is война* is Guerre* There is no pretty word for it That can honour or extol or purify The endless sea of blood it lets
As cannons boom, bombs explode And the world crashes and burns The inflection point for humankind Is now at the cusp of no return.
Jang/ война/ Guerre: The word “war” in Urdu, Russian and Frenchrespectively.
When he smiles His mouth curves up a little Just a bit. The teeth don’t show But sometimes a rare glimpse of ivory snow Peeks through. Like weathered pages From a book that has seen the ages That has been loved, and also has Been tossed around in the hands Of those that loved it less Now hiding its parchment yellowness
When she smiles Her cheeks skip up, joining hands With the crow’s feet at the corners Of her eyes. Hands and feet Join together in a wreathe Its flowers have been abloom a while Many now wear waning smiles Just a few are waxing still Of bountiful life taking their fill
When they look at each other He and she And they smile for all the world to see The mouths, the noses and the cheeks The enamel pearls, the crow’s feet All fade away as eyes light up Two sets of windows brighten up Spangled pathways to twin souls The radiant smiles reach deep inside To gently touch two pages bright Of a love story so new, yet old
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 look ahead, scan the horizon The sun is just rising, brightening The world around me I feel nature’s potency run through my veins With all its might Each muscle and each tendon tightening I am ready for flight
My feathers gleam, I spread my wings I catch a current of air as it sings I lift off and soar At one with the world around me I climb higher and higher I listen to the hum of the stratosphere I can hear the cosmic choir
I glide, I soar, I sail, I fly In the startling blue of a cloudless sky I dip, I climb, I plunge, I rise I shoot ahead as the crow flies I whoop in the throes of sublime joy CRACK! I feel the fragments of lead Of human sport. I plummet to my death
I’m happy today, I can feel it inside The laugh in my belly comes bubbling outside I feel a strange lightness like I have grown wings Yesterday’s burdens seem like faded old things
I look in the mirror while fixing my hair I smile to myself, my reflection smiles back I giggle aloud, my twin does the same We go back and forth playing that funny game
With my bag on my shoulder I step outside I walk to the tree with the dappled sunlight There I stand for a while to glance at the world As the brightness of spirit around me unfurls
Two dogs amble on, happy kings of the street A little old lady dips in her bag for a treat The trio stand out like a painting of love Surrounded by kindness, lit up from above
The resident Tuk Tuk is parked in the lane Its sarong-clad driver is humming away A handheld mirror is clutched in one hand The other is smoothing an errant strand
He looks at me, smiles and says “Good morning” “Where to today? The usual madam?” I grin back as I sit down on the seat Sandwiched between photos of pedicured feet!
I arrive at my destination feeling gleeful and light I’m still warmly cloaked in the joyful vibe Yes! I’m happy today, it’s been pouring right out The smile on my lips has been hard to wipe out.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 