Xanax

She popped a Xanax and tried to go back to sleep. 

The screamings started as soon as she closed her eyes-startled,she sat up. 

Sweat had broken on her brow. 

The rational part of her tried to reason with her-it is ok to sweat when you hear a dead person's voice,you were not at fault. It happened. You need to move on. 

A morbid smile crept to her lips,move on from what?

To what?

Her eyes glazed over. It was time. 

This hour came everyday and passed into oblivion till the next day. 

She drifted in the interweaving period.

How could she move on from killing someone?

How will she ever overcome this?

What was her purpose?

This and many other questions plagued her as she sat and wept beside her own grave. 

Wellness

Wellness of her being,lay with him.

She wept when she went away.

Wept again,albeit with joy when she returned to his arms.

Her world was him. 

This made her afraid.

She had finally found her fear and it befuddled her. 

Her passion for one made her see reason in everything she did.

She reasoned and tried but ultimately knew that loving someone so deeply would bring forth a vulnerability but instead of mistakenly taking it as her weakness and shunning it.

She revelled in him,being her strength and source of energy and light.

Umbrella

Her umbrella was a tool

For men with pokes in their 

pants on the bus.

She travelled far and wide

Till she came to a bridge 

And decided to jump off it.

Veil

She was blindfolded and taken behind a veil.

When her aunt had blindfolded her,she giggled and thought they would be playing a game.

A game,it was but of the most vicious kind.

She was made to lie on a stone bed,this is when the fear hit her. 

The blindfold was taken off and she let off a soft scream-the scene that unfolded around her was something that she had never seen.

Her various female relatives,singing in glee but somehow it all seemed very eerie.

There was a blunt razor there,a blade. 

They unclothed her,she started whimpering but they threatened with dire consequnces if they do not let them make her "pure" and sinfree.

They rubbed some herbs on her genitals,make believe anaesthetic it was and then the blade was brought down heavily on her clitoris.

The white shock of pain reverbated through her  every cell. 

Even in her daze,she thought-the amount of blood is not so much. 

She fainted while her kins patched and stitched her shut. 

She retained this memory,the pain and the helplessness against the restraints that she was put in-while she went in labour.

Her husband had slashed her when he impregnanted her and the scar tissue was hard. 

These were her last memories,as she bled to death.

Ironically,another female was born. 

Took away

He took her toys-kept them away

Took away her innocence 

Plummetted away.

Sexuality

Why is sex still a dirty word?

It seems strange that something that people indulge in quite a bit is tagged as tabboo. 

Here again the gender distinction and discrimination comes down with full force,it is quite alright for men to joke and throw around cheap comments and double entrendres but a woman doing the same would be tagged as loose or easy.

A woman reveling in her sexuality as judged but a man is tagged as a stud or a cassanova. 

These terms are back slapping tags that are bestowed upon men as how far they have climbed on the totem pole of sexuality. 

Women are expected to be "pure" and have their hymens intact before getting married lest they give away "milk for free" but men can fool around for boys will be boys.

In this nation of fools,women who enjoy sex even with their husbands are at the losing end-their men think that they are too worldly wise and hence must have a "questionable character".

This begins the torture at a marital home.

Women and sexuality is a deep subject and a lot can be said on it,not just the aforementioned-which are just stereotypes.

We need to educate our kids and admonish them when and if they ever repeat a sexist joke,comment or even in person.

Parents need to treat each other in a way that would represent no gender doscrimination rather than being in a perfect mother or father mould. 

We need gender benders because i have ways believed that gender is not only what you were born with on your lower torso but also how you are brought up,what influences you. It is all in the mind.

I strive for a day when women and men would be treated at par with one another. 

It is not about being greater,it is about synergy and yin and yang-so to say.

Requiem

She wrote that requiem for her dream herself when she decided to put her stuff away. 

She had to,for family. She agreed.

This is what had to be done. 

Dream but dream only till you are told you stop.

Have ambition but in a lesser degree lest your potential partner is intimidated by you.

These were the adages that she was brought up by-she was expected to abide.

She worked hard and was married off to a guy she barely knew. 

Before she could start questioning the point of it all,she was raped by her husband.

He raped her for she knew too much and this simply implied that she had to be subjugated and made docile. 

She was too worldly wise,a loose woman,definitely. 

Rather than bringing shame upon the family,he beat her black and blue. Everyday,as the sun went down.

These beatings refused to dissolve her resolve but gradually as the number of broken bones increased,she accepted the adages that her mother had taught her and decided to bring her daughter up with the same.

Quite quietly

She stepped out quite quietly.

She did not want to wake anyone up.

In the moonlight,her scars bore a silver colour.

The nausea was getting to her. 

She wanted to step out.

Just one more time.

She moved towards the neighbouring house. Shivering as she unlocked the door-being the nanny,she had them.

She moved to the baby's room,tiptoeing.

Unrobing her softly as she cackled,she sighed.

A sigh of pleasure at the naked body of the cherub.

She just stood there and watched her till the early dawn.

This was her curse.

 

Picking up

Picking up after him seemed like a natural thing to do.

She picked up after him all the time.

We complete each other. 

We love each other.

Everybody's mess is different,right?

She snapped on her gloves as she cleaned out the basement.

The chair had dome shreds of skin and dismembered limbs lay all over.

She sighed.

Another day. Another appetite. Another person. 

Picking up and burying it all with salt in the backyard.

Opposites

They were way too different from one another.

Opposites,some might say.

She hastened her pace.

Her wheezing sounded so loud,in the quiet of that moonlit and foggy night. 

I need to get there,she thought.

Her load seemed lighter as she half ran and half walked to her destination.

They fell in love.

The stereotypes were replayed right in front of her.

Gradually,it unravelled.

It had to for she had started being herself.

This was not the person he had fallen for.

She had varied interests which were nothing like his.

A mundane life,he craved.

She entered the local sheriff's premise.

It had just not worked out,she thought.

He wanted to be more adventurous. 

They decided to indulge in some sadism.

Mild strangulation et al.

Well,we took the ultimate step today.

She is carrying a head!

They yelled as the officers surrounded her,aiming their guns at her heart.

He was not as adventurous in life or death,she simply said with not a single

expression escaping her eyes.

Normal

She was not normal,they said.

How will she fit it?

She is a tom-boy,in derogatory terms.

Grow up now,be more like a girl.

No,you cannot behave like that. 

Why do you have so many boys around you all the time?

Dress up properly.

Study but only to a certain age lest you be one of the leftover women.

Get married already.

You do not want kids,well-you will change your mind.

Get married,now is the tethering end.

No,you cannot work at that hour.

Cover up!

Going out?

Nope,stay at home. Fine,be back before sun down. 

Why can you not be like a normal females who listens?

Every girl-nearly-goe through this. 

Worse,if you are a liberal with aspirations to push the envelope and live life to the fullest. 

Men and Women

Are men and women really that different?

Before you run screaming about stereotypes riddled articles,wait.

This was perhaps brought about by the recent SC order-for the uninitiated,SC wants the state to extend transgendered people all the rights and also,there would be reservation for them in jobs.

This great news got me thinking about gender roles and the stereotypes ans notions that are associated with genders.

These notions are drilled into our heads from the very beginning,as children we are given gender specific toys.

We are told that talking or walking a certain way is not okay for we are of the opposite sex.

We are asked to watch shows that are gender specific too-the boys will watch wrestling and girls will watch all the pink unicorn shows.

Games-video-have been designed like that too.

Is it any wonder that teenagers and adolescents are uncomfortable in their skin?

They are not sure at times because just because you were born with a dick-it does not mean that you ought to be more macho and feel the need to protect everyone.

We need to stop telling our children that girls cry and boys never do. 

We need to make sure that we never tell our sons that he throws a punch like a girl.

As we grow up,we are segregated further,clothes,toiletries and what not.

Seen the reent Head and Shoulder's ad?

The blatant sexism is appalling.

Why does our government not ban that?

As it stands bleeping out words like-virginity and blurring out cleavage.

This pertinent of this issue is that gender is something all inside our head.

We might be born a way but we might identify with another.

If not that then we might feel inclined to be a certain way and still retain the gender but our knacks are considered too off for our gender?

Uncomfortable and confused,people lose perspective.

We are raising boys who grow up under so much pressure to be a certain way that they act up. 

They do not know how to interact with the opposite sex.

We really need to raise our kids,just asking them to be themselves.

Not according to the genitals that they carry.

Lackadaisical

 Being lackadaisical. It is not just about work,is it?

Being like that,is an aspect which can upset realtionships,career,family,life.

Everything requires a certain amount of effort.

It is inconsiderate in relationships.

Uncaring when it comes to family.

Lazy when it comes to work.

Reckless when it peeks its head in life.

Everything requires an effort but ultimately,it is worth it.

So,stop being lackadaisical and move forth,emnating joy.

King-he was.

She knelt at his feet.

He asked her to go down further-prostrate.

Deaf to all her pleadings,he eyed her cleavage.

She was whimpering now.

King,he was-he shook his head,turning down the plea. 

He wanted to get a closer look at the undulating bodies.

Ravish them.

They stood by and pounced on her at his command-King,he was.

They ravaged her and she seemed to be catatonic. 

Too proud to scream.

This angered him-King,he was but he continued pleasuring himself for-King,he was.

When she lay on the floor bleeding,her eyes pierced through his and she simply asked-Why?

King,he was-he could do whatever he wanted.

His insecurity betrayed on his face,she laughed and he recoiled.

Her last words dethroned him-

you are more into screwing men and that is the only time when they would unclothe their member in front of you,she smiled.

Plunging the dark shard of glass into her jugular-He was left wishing he could go to the same place as she had.

Jealous-Joker

Jealous; she laughed it off

I did not know but 

She had gone astray.

Joker-He liked the warpaint for 

Noone could see the scars

On his face.

Ideal

She was waiting for the ideal situation to arise.

She was in the shadows.

Eyes fully of mystique.

Lips parted in desire.

Her face blanched from the effort.

She seemed to be in pain.

She was waiting for her man to be ready for the altar. 

After all,society dictates,ideal men are like deer caught in headlights when it comes to commitment.

Change in mindset is the need of the hour.

H-Haiku

Home is where the heart is

But what if your heart lays buried

Six feet under?

Sticks and stones might break my 

Bones but words will scar me and 

Leave me bleeding.

G

Giving away my soul was easy

I just had to cut

Through my shin again.

Getting out of bed is easy when 

Your cat Projectiles self on face

And licks.

Finding Meaning

She was finding meaning in all the things that appalled her.

This was her mission. A resolution,perhaps.

She went to a circumcision ceremony,for a both the sexes. Performed by quacks,it was a recipe for disaster. 

Females have to be sliced because it is a cleansing ritual,lest they turn into harridans who sleep around.

Chopping of the clitoris,blood and bandages. 

We have clip the extra skin-it is necessary,they said,otherwise-it is impure. 

Blood and bandages again.

She went to meet war veterans. They had a few regrets but mostly were indignant that they do not get their due. 

Was there any meaning in all that you went through?

They had no answer apart from patriotism or propaganda.

She visited a brothel,asked the pimp whether she ever felt bad about the girls she sold out,on an hourly basis. 

Her anger and bitterness were palpable when she said that her pimp showed no mercy.

So,again,she went to another but all she did was shoo her away. 

The last one was politically correct,she smiled ruefully and pointed at their kids,but i pressed on-she reasoned that it was all freewill at least in her premises.

I moved on. 

The blank stares followed me.

She went to talk a male pimp but he uttered abuses and said that it was all business. 

Another wielded a knife at her.

How do people become desensitised?

Here are two parallels to do with infliction. Motivators and culprits are different. 

The confusion reigned,her exercise came out with a jack,for results.

Unexpected Visitor

It was there. No matter,how much she tried,she could not make the spot disappear.

Clear as day,she thought ruefully.

She wanted to use that phrase in her book. It was just so pretty.

The rambles in her head circled the drain.

I should feel. It is pertinent. Her pidgin Psychology chimed in- Feel!

The words echoed in her head,the unexpected visitor in the drab of sanguine on her panty line,slowly drenching her bottoms had shattered her dream. 

Her doctor had warned her but she wanted to save her marriage.

My baby is dead,she wailed. 

Elite

These are the ones who rob us,not just financially but also emotionally.

They were the elite with the higher echelons at their beck and call.

Took away my sense of security and shook me out of my reverie.

A curveball so hard that it knocked me out,while in the process of recovery-I got bludgeoned by them,again.

This time around,I lost all feeling-went on doing what was expected of me,like an automaton.

Time heals,perhaps but for me my words will be my therapy.

I wait in the shadows to strike,perhaps, while my deeply seated hatred and indifference turns me into them.

Ah,the ruiners. 

Woe betide'em.

Dead

She was drunk in her own beauty.

He was drunk in his vanity.

They dreamt of a happy tomorrow,as they drunk and dunked through their present.

They doled out advice like pennies,only when their heart gave in.

They were so alike,yet too different.

They died the same day when a bomb exploded on their city.

They met in purgatory,each paying for their sins,as they harboured the same notions and beliefs.

As their hypnotherapy and electrocution session ended,they came out of the purgatory as one-for the society did not believe in being sexual fluidity.

Child

She was a child when she was violated.

She was told to keep quiet. Tacit,it was.

Brought up being told that her genitals were a bad place. 

At three,she knew that they had to hidden away. 

Ashamed.

She told her that it was a game.

It was many years later,that she realised when she knew about it all,that her cousin was the first to assualt her.

Years more,it took for her to sort out her feelings and accept her violation at a tender age.

It made her who she was in part.

Bomber Jacket

The bomber jacket was ironic but it felt nice. It was snug and hugged her.

Her skin was almost transluscent,she had not been out in the Sun-for days now.

She had long,pearly arms but she had to hide them even though they were always sheathed in sheer. The jacket,did just that.

She had to wear it over her uniform prescribed by god lest they lashed her too like they did her.

Scared,the bomber jacket from the mission was her salvo.