Tag: Women

BOOK READING | RIOTOUS LOVE

On By Mahvash K. M.In BookReading, Fiction, newbook, Shortstory, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment

Reading from my book of short stories, “THE GIRL WITH THE PAISLEY DUPATTA”. The book is available at Sarasavi, Barefoot, Jam fruit Tree, Expographics and Pendi in Sri Lanka and at Readings, Liberty Books and Paramount Books in Pakistan.

Many of the stories in this book are from outside the bell curve of our lives, embracing sensitive social elements that are spoken of either in subdued whispers or not at all: 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”.

Some of the other stories are 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 enterprising love affair of 61 year old Nighat in “Love in Rawalpindi”; to the shenanigans of a dancing queen in “Riotous Love”; to the complicated friendship between two middle aged unmarried society girls in “Days of Purgatory”.

VERSE | MINE ALONE

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, socialissues, truth, verse, writingLeave a comment 
It is beautiful, it is powerful 
Draping me like a queen 
It is elegant, it is personal 
It’s not for you to intervene 

How I wear it, when I wear it 
Or If I wear it at all 
It is not yours to abuse
In your chauvinistic thrall 

It is mine to choose and mine alone 
If I drape it on one side
An embellishment, an adornment 
Not a holy tent for me to hide 

I choose if indeed I cover
My head or not at all 
Mine to choose mine to use 
To wrap around me like a shawl 

In the end my garb, my hijab
My dupatta and my scarf
Are not for you to politicise 
To legislate on my behalf 

It’s mine to choose and mine alone
Not for you to rant and rail
To demonise and brutalise
Scrambling into realms of faith

It’s just free flowing fabric
There’s no honour in my veil
My virtue lies inside of me
And its not your holy grail

Angels never hide their light
They shine in its bright glow
I too choose a life for me where
I’m free to thrive and grow

It has always been my choice to make
Not for you nor your most devout
Where I’m radiant and dignified 
With my dupatta or indeed without.

VERSE | I LURRRVE YOU!

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, poetry, truth, verse, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment 
This is for the ladies. Amidst all the funniness abounding in the verse, there is a subtle message of self love and self reliance.

Here’s hoping that we can always read between the literal and figurative noisy lines that may be thrown at us in the name of love. And that our peace of mind and our sense of self worth always supersede other enterprises of the liver (jigar) and the heart!

No offence to my male family, friends and acquaintances - these are truth-telling times!
He said I love you 
Like I have never loved another 
I said you’re 48 and you’re still 
Looking for that perfect other?

Surely you’ve felt something in that realm
You have walked down lovers lanes 
Were you perchance arm in arm 
With your tonic and your gin? 
And not a woman whom you’d consider 
A partner and a friend 
No, she was always just a trip 
A means towards an end
Each bedecked your evenings out  
The “I love yous” that left your lips  
Were whispered as sweet nothings 
In between your boozy sips
And now you tell me that 
You’re in love with me too 
Except it’s not your usual form
You don’t know what’s happened to you!
Maybe your three-month romances 
Would extend to five with me 
But the Shallow Hal* in you, pal 
Is still waiting to count to three 
And then your extra special 
Trademark escape artistry 
Will take center stage 
It’ll be the same old page 
From your book of Love for Free 

That day he said I love you 
Like I have never loved before 
I said dear boy you wouldn’t know true love 
If it speared you in your gall bladder
…. and why I am undoubtedly the man of your dreams!”
* Shallow Hal: A 2001 Hollywood Rom-Com in which Hal, a shallow man who only dates attractive women, falls in love with Rosemary, after being hypnotized to see the inner beauty of women, not knowing that she is obese.

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 | 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 | THE QUINTESSENTIAL SINNER

On By Mahvash K. M.In poetry, socialissues, truth, verse, writingLeave a comment 
She gets out of the car, adjusting her shalwar 
The legs one mustn’t behold, out of their fabric strongholds
The ankles though, for a moment show
Their shameful curvature.

It can’t be helped you see, we are bipedal beings
But we can’t see the nuances of practical biology
When blinded by the nobility of our formidable patriarchy,
And cloaked in out great 
Fervour of faith.

And so she bends just a little to adjust the errant drape
And while she endeavours, to hold together 
Her blessed modesty
Some man out there, finds her morality in disrepair
What is she bending for, like a dirty, depraved w****!

And the floods of moral outrage at this corrupt spectacle 
In their godly country, cause a debacle
Every man takes it upon himself to deface this hideousness
He then looks to his companions, all now chomping at their bits

They rush upon this evil scene, of the wicked and immoral queen
For a queen she is, from head to toe.
Evil, wicked, shameful though!
She makes their blood gush in great floods
Testosterone-filled, Squelching like mud
She makes their heads swim in strange ways
Where she is master and they are slaves.

God does not permit, such sacrilege 
Where genders abandon their rightful places 
Men are meant to lead them forth
Moral compasses pointing true north
Held aloft by everything, a woman does, from breathing in
To the way she walks in crowded streets:
Ankles hidden, inconspicuous feet. 

And that is why an errant sister in faith
(A woman who is alone and out and about!)
Reeking of impudence in her unveiled state
(Putting her entire morality in doubt!)
May naturally be seen by her brothers devout 
As a wanton woman standing at hell’s gates.