Reborn

reborn___contemporary_nude_oil_painting_by_k_madis_nudes__figurative__5ff1b4d319b06bef48b92bfae4002af5

What was real blindness like? I wondered while lying down on the floor staring at the roof of the room whose only furniture was darkness. Is it in the inability to see the light? Or is it in the inability to see the facades they wear?

On further introspection, I realized that I never fathom out that behind a facade there is no light, so how can they ever think good for me? I wanted to know who I am, I wanted to see if my skin was still breathing or the darkness had occluded all the pores.

I ran my fingers along my face, and when my fingers reached the end of the forehead, it felt as a shore to the sea of black hair that had captured the whirlwind of realism, ready to sweep away the pseudo.

The window of the room howled in the darkness, and the glass cracked with the force of the wind that blew outside. I stood up with a slightly loosen hair bun and eagerness in my eyes to look outside the window.

The moonlight entered through the crack, and gave birth to my shadow, the part of me that got lost amidst the darkness.

The wind permeated the room, wiping out their villainous smell, and flew through my loosen bun, unfolding each strand full of power with its tenderness.

The moonlight seeped through my veins, bestirring the blood to flow smoothly with a hope.

The veil of blindness was peeled off by the songs of the wind, the dance of the moonlight, poetry of the stars and silence of the soul. The pores breathed again, and I was reborn.

– Kritika Vashist

(Painting my Madison Moore)

Heroic Woman

hand

Do not let your skin palpitate,
with his lecherous touch.
Do not wait for a miracle;
for you have magic in you.
Do not fear the bastard;
for he is a coward, certainly not a man.
Do not let your eyes cry a river
of helplessness, surrendering to the fate;
for you are filled with so much energy.
Do not let your conscious act paralyzed,
so turn around and fight back,
knee him in the nuts.
Do not be a victim;
for you are born as a fighter.

Do not ignore if he ogles
at any part of your body,
when you know, your ignorance
will lead to another abuse.
Do not capitulate
to their sick mentality;
when you know, you can
be the change you want to see.
Do not let yourself live
within the confinement of
society’s notions for women
when you know, they are reasons
for all bruises you see,
for all discrimination you hear,
for all injustice we still fight for.
Do not shut your eyes,
when you know, they are burning with fire,
so stare back with all your anger,
and burn him down with your fire.

Do not stand still,
when the monster crawls over you,
or when you catch him assaulting,
and realize that you are not a tree,
realize that no one can uproot you,
no one can pluck your flowers
without your consent,
because you aren’t grounded,
you are meant to fly,
as high as you want.
Because you aren’t his sex toy,
you are a human, not a property he owns.
Because you aren’t his slave,
you are the queen of your own kingdom.
Because you are the courage,
you are the weapon for yourself;
you are your own voice.

Do not turn a deaf ear,
when you see a moron pestering her,
who is alone, who seeks help.
Do not add to the spectators,
who watch the wrongdoing and do nothing.
Stand up for her,
speak up for her,
and beat the shit out of the jerk!
Do not just let your mouth talk;
when your hands are capable to help.

Do not be submit to those who tame you,
you aren’t anybody’s pet, you aren’t an animal,
you are fearless,
you are the power,
you are a heroic woman.

This poem was saved in my drafts and the drawing was sketched long time back, which depicts the hand of a strong woman crushing offenders. Little did I know that, someday I will have to do what I try to preach in my poetry? Before I go on and explain, I would like to say that, poems aren’t just scribbled words, they are motivation to some, they are an escape to some, and a purpose for a writer. A writer doesn’t write to get appreciation and praise, but to pen down the thoughts and messages. That being said, I can only hope that everyone who has read this, understands  the meaning of each word, and will surely lend a hand to someone who is in need or will help themselves when some unfortunate incident happens. Coming back to the incident, because of which, the flames of the fire burning inside me peaked.

I was travelling in the metro wearing ‘decent’ clothes (why should I even tell what I was wearing? It doesn’t matter! NEVER! )

I was travelling in the metro in the afternoon and while I was getting down at the station, a huge crowd outside the gates of the metro, was waiting to welcome me. As soon as the doors of the metro opened, the crowd rushed in, and called for an opportunity to lecherous-desperate-sick minded men cowards. A man tried to move his hand on my thigh. After I had figured it out, I tried to shake his hand off my thigh, but because of the crowd that was falling on people who were getting down at the station, I failed to do it, and his touch turned into a painful pinch on my thigh. Okay! That was it! I don’t ignore such morons!

I pulled his arm, shouted at him and slapped him, but (I would not have been using so many but(s) if only people were not ignorant.) people did not care to know what happened, everybody was busy getting inside the metro or finding some space to stand, and the crowd pushed me and the man almost succeeded in getting inside the metro. Gladly, a woman around her 50s came forward to help. She, despite of the crowd, pulled his arm and tried getting him out from the metro. However, I realized that the metro gates did not have sensors, and her arm could trap in between train doors. Also, people still kept squeezing. I pulled her arm and told her to let him go. Usually in such cases, the guard’s duty is to pull out the man and take him to the complaint room or the police station nearby, but there were no guards around. I thanked the lady for speaking up for me and lending a helpful hand. She then suggested me to go the police station on the metro and complain to the authorities there. I did what she said. I went straight to the police station and registered a complaint, and with confident voice told him to always check whether the guards are on their duty or not, because we certainly are not going to stay shut.
I had no fear while walking down the road after the metro journey, only because I learned to speak up for myself, to act for myself, to beat a bastard.

To all women who are reading this, realize the importance of acting instantly when such incident happens, do not wait for help, let them hear your voice and let them know that we are not afraid of them.
To all men who are reading this, do not be a spectator and do help if you witness the incident.

We all need to realize the power of one action, one word, one slap, and one person. I believe that if there is no woman who doesn’t support another woman, then most of the unfortunate events will not take place, such as; domestic violence, dowry, marital rape, etcetera. Do stand and speak up. That’s all you need to do. These assholes are cowards and our silence let them live in misconception that they own our bodies and pleasure to touch us anywhere without our consent.
Stand up and speak up!

-Kritika Vashist