Tormentor

I sit with him, Ah! the pleasure
His eyes, the way he smiles
chiseled biceps!

He asks, I speak
The trauma at my heart
What is it that keeps poking me

I speak of red,
The spilled colour
The bundle of joy dead on a street

I speak of a bed
Devoid of rest
Haunted by nightmares

I speak of rooms;
Painful, brutal sounds
Electrocution

I speak, unaware
the words incoherent
the ache, constant….

My tormentor, moved to tears
I, unphased, numb
unaffected

Passive Aggressiveness

All life through they taught how one should behave. How it was important to respect elders, seniors. And how maintaining a low tone and containing your disagreement is a way of showing this respect.

Did any of those realise they were teaching kids to bottle up emotions? Hide their true feelings? They were teaching, training them to use a paint brush, to put up a mask. Why did the world have problems with real?

What would happen if a child openly disagreed with his parents? “Dad, I don’t want to pursue science. I love commerce.” How does this simple admission hamper respect or relation? More so, it would help them understand each other.

But we so want to control everything that we forget where we should and where we should not talk. Some things are personal. Very close to heart. And when someone else takes away the right to express it, exercise it or pursue it, we change. We either revolt, blow up, throw up arms in protest, “This is what I want and I won’t bend”, or we bottle up. Keep emotions to oneself. Put a fake mask of happiness and do as told.

No doubt this mask makes everyone else happy. But has anyone ever thought how it impacts the person? How a lost dream and a fake smile kill him. Everyday!

This pushes one to a new zone, a mentality. Passive Aggressive Behaviour. Actively they don’t show their disagreement. Ah! Who listens either way. But passively they make sure they avenge themselves. Everything behind a mask of agreement and respect.
If we imagine scolding a child and that child breaks your favourite mug, “Oops! It dropped out of my hands”. While we mourn the loss, the child enjoys. Tit for tat.

Ah! And how many times have we been asked to do something we don’t want to. “Is it done yet?” “Ah! I am working on it. Just that it won’t happen.” We are not born procrastinators, we tend to acquire the trait on demand.

Though we see everyone calling sarcasm a sign of high IQ, it again is passive aggression. Just hidden underneath a translucent veil of humour. Sharp and ready to sting.
But at the end why should there be any need of such behaviour? Why should someone ever feel the need of a mask, a paint brush. Why should anyone ever do something just to please people?

Why care for respect and fear when it can drive you to such fatal behaviour. Once this behaviour was listed as a mental disorder. But so many people depict this tendency that now it is merely behaviour.

Why should there be passive aggression at all? Why not be and let others be real?

 

Lost Happiness

I reached home to silence
Unusual calm, peace
I wondered,
Howcome there’s no noise;
No mischief being played
I searched the garden,
The whole house
And everything empty
Worried, I wonder
When was the last she remained in
Never quite at a place
I find her in bed
Temperature, discomfort
And there goes my heart
To hear her chirp again

Helpless!

Fondling her, caressing
Praying silently under my breath
Reminding myself, recalling
His mercy, His wisdom
I tell her how
He purifies us by pain
Tests the pious
With trials
Yet, I was speechless
When in her innocence, she asked
“What sins would He write off me
And why this trial?”
My helplessness couldn’t be more profound

Respect

Many times we come across people who are accustomed to getting respect. As if they have some inherent right to it irrespective to their qualification for the same.  And to satisfy their ego they demand of people to show them respect. Guidelines are laid. Rules. Shoulds and shouldn’ts. A pre-agreed behaviour.

But all that these people get is fake. A compulsion. Because they forget that to get respect from someone is equivalent to win their heart. All they earn is people’s loathing. Disregard. And the wishes to have minimum interaction with such people.

They forget everything cannot be demanded, some things are meant to be worked hard for. Only when you are true and humble would the universe reciprocate.

Only when you touch their souls do you earn their respect!

Mita de apni hasti ko gar kuch martaba chahe
ki daana khaak mai mil kar gul-e-gulzaar hota hai

-Alaama Iqbal

 

 

Owned?

The fault was in destiny. The day which bore her a burden forever. Cause when everyone was speculating a baby boy, out came a girl! The most common form of heartbreak once you get married. Everyone accepted her half-heartedly. The first thoughts associated with her? “She is a burden on our shoulders. To be married off someday.”

The years following her birth were not as deadly as the first day but she was still treated as a burden, constantly being reminded of it. While her brother had permissions to do anything, it was all vice versa with her. She was hindered for doing anything and everything. And the most common aphorism to follow? “You have to live with another family someday. All this would not be tolerated there. Hence be in  your limits.” Even before being married, she was bound by the idea of marriage. Her flight delayed.

All through she was taught how to do household chores. And above all, she was taught to be doctile. How she should never argue back. How she should not look anyone in the eye. How … blah blah blah. All this while she thought maybe marriage is the end to all this torment. Maybe it is not as bad as they show. Maybe …

And atlast the day did arrive. The burden was off from her parents’ shoulders. She was being married off. And she? Naive as she always was, she was dreaming. She thought her prince charming had just saved her from an unpleasant life and hereon everythibg would be smooth. Like a fairy tale. Alas! Life is no fairy tale…

With marriage came responsibilities. And soon it dawned on her that she had no help there. She alone had to manage everything. And then you could not say no to your husband. Angels will curse you all night. She wondered why was only the wife cursed? All day she toiled hard and all she got at the end was curse and displeasure? For what did she do all this then?

Gradually she realised that though she worked as hard as her husband, she had to work at home too. He won’t move as much as a spoon. While he got to rest, all she got was more work. And displeasure of in-laws too. She wondered why only a woman was supposed to work at home? Was God biased or humans? She forgot our society believes in male chauvinism.

As some more time passed she was blessed with a baby. A baby girl. All her in-laws cursed her for bearing a girl child. Blaming her for being responsible for this tragedy. But what was her fault in it? How could she know what she bore. Yet no one thought about it. And instead of celebrations there was gloom in her house. It was another tragedy for them. But not a soul remembered what she had undergone to bring the life to this world. No one acknowledged her patience or tried to share her pain. It seemed she was unwanted. Surrounded by a whole lot of relatives and still alone.

As the birth of girl was gradually accepted, life began to be normal. But when the baby would cry, it would be her job to pacify her. Even after the baby was born, she alone had to take its care. When it would cry in night, she would be awakened to pacify it. She wondered why her husband could not have changed a diaper or fed it with milk that lay nearby?

She soon resumed her job too. Now she was handling too much together. House hold work, office, a baby, in-laws and a husband. She kept wondering why she had to be subdued and doctile. She wondered why women were doomed to this fate. Why was God partial to her gender? If her husband could rest after office why could not she? Why could she not go out and enjoy? Why could she not live?  Why were all bindations imposed on women only?

She had no answers. All she knew was that it all was unjust. Whether God was partial or the society, but she deserved much better, much more. And one such day, when she was tired of asking for her rights, she broke off. She broke all her chains that didn’t let her do her choice. She flew off away that day. Cause that day she realised life could not be what people say.  And your husband cannot be God. A wife has as much rights to rest and recreation as her husband. But still women feel chocked up, exhausted and sick.

A caged bird never sings of green fields.

A bird in a case can never love it’s owner.

 

marriageb

Enclosed.

Yellow, red, bright blue
pollen didn’t cause her flu
running around, gardens found
it’s feet were not wounds bound
fragrance, air, so longed nacter
transferring pollens for all that matter

But meadows, gardens, all flowers
were all dreams, so farther
a glass wall separating her
she, bound in some ways
Her heart yearned for that butterfly
and she? enclosed within those four walls!

Biased Children?

All through our childhood we see our mothers work feverently for us. Even a moment’s rest seems a luxury for them. And yet, when we gain enough strength to replay them we choose, instead, to neglect.

All through we tend to see the duties of our parents towards us but never do they work for their rights. Are our parents not entitled to our care and love in their years of down?

But instead, we tend to make them work even more. In most of the households, parents are treated as servants and maids. Maybe this is the only reason they are kept at home. Unpaid and trusted labour. Does none realise that we are doing them injustice?

In  a bid to please our wives and not let them get burdened by household chores and children, we tend to thrust work onto our parents. Thinking they have served us before and would do so forever. But are we not taking them too lightly?

Do we not realise that same situation might reciprocate on us? The child we cherish today might employ the same propaganda. Tomorrow he might, as well, treat us as mere unpaid servants!

They say prayer of a broken heart is considered immediately. Do we wish to bring wrath upon us by treating our parents ill?

They are entitled to respect and care as much as our partners and children deserve. Then why this bias?