I had no idea where i was
My eyes, hands and legs hurt when i woke
It was still not a morning
My dress was not the same
It was different but comfortable
The cock rose in the morning
So my alarm clock was a gentle pat from those undistinguished women.
I hurried to remember the darkness that night
I don't really remember
They tied my clothes tight back again
Really? i don't remember dressing into a soft one that night.
They carried me to the Lake
Where only girls like me and women with girls like me were there
I looked at the whole ripples
Afterall, this home was heavens
They splashed icy cold water on me
The pain rose and I yelled
They shut me up and gently calmed.
"The bruises look so bad dear!" One said
"How many of us have to ever face this?" Said the other
"Does it hurt vakula?Sorry Vatsala?" Said my sister
I was shocked to look at her now.
She wasn't the same as she was
The one who taught me to play boards
Now look like a real board
The one who rides a bullock cart and does racing
Is not in bruises with covers filled with ornaments.
I teared up in shock
Why are my days whole in shock
What happened in that darkness?
Why is my body bruised
Why is water around me red?
"Akka! How?" Were the words I split.
The rest of the undistinguished women gelled with plants that gave a relief to the pains i just knew I had
Every girl has to abandon her house?
Why couldn't they come to my house ?
Now i understand
I clearly asked "you all are his
dasis? Like me? Am i wrong saying that? Why did he beat me up?"
They all had tears in their dwells
But Akka smiled and said " not dasi vakula! That is a bad word."
When banyan and Mango grow wide,
Why mango deserves to get just hit and the banyan to pull?
When trees deserve different treatments
I am not surprised if the same applies
But hitting me? A flower grown in warm arms?
I didn't really know what happened
What is happening?
What is about to happen
They finally hurried my aids and yelled
"Quick before Maa ji comes"
Questions may arise.Why am I writing this? This is to tell you all that this patrichal society shuts it's mouth for every horror happening to girls.Just because they are masculine they are not meant to kill the disinterested off. When Meeks unite, Mighty might die.
YOU ARE READING
Shackles
PoesieThis poetry ballads are about a very young child who grew up with very less restrictions. As she grew up! Her Restrictions were very tightened up. Will she break them up? Or abode them? Is she going to stand individual or be a slave to her elderly...
