Where?

Where, oh where, did my innocence go?
Is it that dark basement,
where you tried to grope
parts of me that hadn’t yet bloomed?

Where, oh where, did my softness go?
Is it in that ugly room,
where you manhandled me
in ways I didn’t know to exist?

Where, oh where, did my period go?
Is it in that school hallway,
where you sexually assaulted me
and had the authorities cover up?

Where, oh where, did my achievements go?
Are they in that little tube-well room,
where you sedated and molested me
because Daddy was running late?

Where, oh where, did my life go?
Is it in that temple,
where you hid me and raped me
because I was a girl and you a ‘man’?

Where, oh where, did your conscience go?
Is it in that womb,
where you were nurtured for nine months
so that you could become a rapist?

Where, oh where, did your control go?
Is it under that roof,
where your sister and mother seek you
to protect them, but you’re busy raping?

Where, oh where, did your heart go?
Is it in your ‘tool’,
where you’re waiting for it to be chopped
and fed to the dogs because you raped someone?

 

 

picture courtesy: Pinterest

No Reason

they told me i was over reacting
i was trying to express myself
they told me i was making a fuss
i held back another sob

they told me to behave
i didn’t want to listen
to their demands
when they chose to ignore mine

they told me not to shout
but how could i not
when every minute they spoke words
which stabbed my heart like stakes

they told me i couldn’t
so i didn’t
they told me to be me
but bound me in restrictions

they didn’t understand
how it felt to be crashing against rocks
through a storm they created
and trying to get out alive

they told me i wasn’t loved
then they chose to ignore me
and i needed to let out my frustration
so i spoke harmless words

they yelled at me for speaking
because other things were more important
while i suppressed another sob
and i hid away in the darkness

they pointed out my flaws
said i was a disappointment
didn’t listen to a word i had to say
and i sobbed in the bathroom

they didn’t hear
i didn’t let them hear
didn’t tell them out of fear
that they might yell at me some more

they want no reason
to be angry
so i will cut away
the one reason they have

The inside

Throw down your guns,
toss aside every bullet.
She doesn’t need your holes,
she feels hollow already.

Get rid of every sharp thing,
you’ve used at her.
She’s looking for them now,
she wants to slit her wrists.

All your words strtuck her,
in her heart like lightning.
They were like thunder,
to the scared girl inside.

Those flaws you saw on her skin,
they’re reflections of your own.
She’s always been flawless,
she thinks otherwise, though.

Everything you said or did,
might not have been visible to your eyes.
She knows she’s not okay,
she has scars on the inside of her.

“hang on.”

“hang on”
i said
“to what?”
he asked

“keep going”
i told him
“Alright”
he replied

“you can”
i tried
“hopefully”
he didn’t believe

and today,
he said those words
to me
but i didn’t reply

And today
my thoughts overpowered me
i didn’t react
i didn’t care

“hang on”
“keep going”
“you can”
but i couldn’t

nothing to hang onto
nothing to keep going for
i didn’t see another way
I’m sorry it happened

i stopped caring
long ago
but now
i stopped feeling too

text showed up
on a lit screen
never to find a reply,
my fingers were cold.

hurt

She was alone,
but not for long.
She tried hiding under the blanket,
but the shadow appeared in the doorway.

She tried to keep quiet,
but a whimper escaped her.
She tried to stay still,
but her body still shivered.

She tried to stop him,
but his hands were unstoppable.
She tried to cover herself,
but he ripped off her clothes.

She tried to say “no”,
but all she let out were tears.
She wanted him to go,
but he forced himself onto her.

She couldn’t bear the pain,
but he wouldn’t stop.
She sobbed and moaned,
but he didn’t care.

She finally pushed him away,
but he didn’t leave just yet.
She saw him pull out his belt,
but didn’t see what came next.

She was bruised and bloody,
he tightened the porous end around his fist.
She shakily pulled the blanket over her naked self,
he walked out of the room, smugly.

She cried softly while dressing herself,
but never let him hear.
She knew her wounds would heal, maybe scar,
but she would never get used to this hurt

Instinct

I looked at him,
into his eyes.
I rarely ever did,
but I couldn’t control it.
Maybe it was instinct.

I helped him get ready,
I had lovingly picked out
his clothes for the evening,
down to his tie and cuff-links.
Maybe it was instinct.

I watched him gel his hair,
tie his shoelaces,
and pull on his coat
over a crisp, white shirt.
Maybe it was instinct.

I shut the door afterhim,
almost immediately wanting him to return.
A knock on the door
told me he did.
Maybe it was instinct.

He pocketed his phone,
said he forgot something, and with a smile,
hugged me and dropped a kiss on my head,
and then he left.
Maybe it was instinct.

I sat on the edge of my chair,
fidgeted with my clothes.
I got up to do some work,
then sat back down.
Maybe it was instinct.

I picked up my phone,
sent him a message,
“hey honey, come back soon,
I’d love to be by your side today.”
Maybe it was instinct.

Half an hour later,
he called me.
“I’ll be home in a couple of hours,
hang tight, don’t worry.”
Maybe it was instinct.

“Alright, but i don’t know why,
something seems off today.”
Then i knew it.
I heard it, loud and clear.
Maybe it was instinct.

“Maa” he whispered,
as soon as i heard the shot.
He moaned, fell,
And I did too.
Maybe it was instinct.

Then I pictured it,
His beautiful face filled with agony,
his white shirt soaked red.
his life slipping away from him.
Maybe it was instinct.

The day that I once cherished,
Now had a different reason
to be etched in my mind forever,
with me till I died, like him.
Maybe it was instinct.

It was his birthday,
the happiest day of his life,
now the saddest of mine.
He was gone, I was empty.
Maybe it was instinct.

~~~~

Thousands of mothers lose their children to terrorism, crime and other ruthless murderers. This was a brief story of a boy going out to celebrate his birthday with his friends, but his mother’s instinct warned her that something could go wrong. Like several children who were gunned down by terrorists in restaurants in Indian metropolitan cities like Bangalore and Mumbai IRL, he too was killed at the venue. And all his mother could to was to hear her child’s life slowly slip away from him, breath by breath.

Photograph

He thought he was broken,
too torn apart to be put together.
he was done,
his was a face of a lost soul.

But, she saw him,
she saw his sad,beautiful eyes,
and his sculpted face,
so she took a shot.

He heard it,
whipped around, enraged,
he saw her standing,
the weapon in her hands.

Then, she showed him,
with a little smile,
what she held in her hand,
and he gave in.

She handed it to him,
and he wiped his eyes,
she took his hand,
and she led him through.

He couldn’t have been happier,
in that dimly lit room,
where he saw the face in his mirror,
hanging everywhere.

Grins, giggles, and grim expressions,
it all changed his soul,
her camera saved his life,
and he put up the photograph too.

Rescue

I’ll never stop bleeding.
There’s drops of my blood
on my pillow,on the floor,
Yet somehow I’m still alive.

They’ll let me bleed,
but there might be one
who’ll wrap me up
in his own bandages.

He’ll let his wounds bleed,
if his bandages could cover mine.
i wish someone would tell him,
“honey, please don’t do this.”

Tell him it’s a waste,
make him see that there’s no point,
in trying to save what’s already broken,
to try and rescue a lost, dead soul.

Dark

I shut the door,
didn’t want to turn on the lights,
didn’t want to take another step,
didn’t want to move an inch.

I wanted nothing more
than a shoulder to cry on,
than a hand to steady me,
than a pair of arms to embrace me.

Now I just want to sit
and cry until I can’t anymore,
and lie until I can’t get up,
and die until I’m just a body.

I thought we could be us,
until I realised that the dark wasn’t momentary,
until I knew I couldn’t anymore,
until I saw you give up.

And all I have now,
is a dark room,
where I’m alone
with my dark thoughts.

Band-Aid

He didn’t know

what happened that night,

He tried to fight

with all his might.

 

He couldn’t help

screaming out loud,

And wondered what his father would think

of the by who once made him proud

 

He let a tear roll down

and then another.

A hand held his wet cheek

in an attempt to smother.

 

He didn’t know what happened

but as he walked back,

He could feel his sore body

hurting from the attack.

 

He looked up shamefully

at his angry father’s face,

Scornfully questioning

if that was his place.

 

He couldn’t explain

to his enraged dad,

So he apologized

for being a victim of the bad.

 

He was sent to his room

with not a soul to talk to,

And in his loneliness

he wondered what he should do.

 

He crept to the bathroom

and looked for his aid,

The blade found his wrist

and the wound wasn’t helped by a band-aid.