Skip to main content

She, the keeper

He waits for the dark to engulf him.
He finds that rather safe.
The moonlight sways to tease his eye
but gets lost in the alley’s haze.

     She walks alone, her home in sight
     of the city that’s asleep.
     He makes his move. Under the street lamps high,
     he bids to daunt her grace.

She fends him off.
"That daring bitch! How dare she stay out late!
And then to say she’s not for takes ...
what insolent craze!"

     A city swells in loud lament,
     its reputation at stake!
     What’s changed so much? Why do evils rise now
     from celebrations’ daze?

"The winter’s winds are warmer", you say,
"And the streets are rife with life!"
What one would think as grand design
is another’s watcher’s maze.

     You blame the wind, the people new.
     You blame the men in chair,
     while all the while their clout returns
     its misogynistic gaze.

"Times have changed!" you beat your chest
so someone sane might hear.
But what should work with the culture-cross
is lost in its own embrace!

     Come, World. As one, let’s unite,
     for all change is in the mind.
     An ethos heaves to meld its styles while
     Grit’s own chaperone pays.

Oh! Dark! Let your curse be short-lived now.
Let your terror become paled.
Oh! Moon! Will your light be sweet again?
Will her daring yet lose face?! 

     Oh! Mother of he who preys on her,
     will you be there to show
     that while he lurks in darkness’s fold
     you’ll be her shield, unfazed?

Tell him now, that she is you
in as much as you are her.
That a woman’s womb is mankind’s lair -
its power never sways.

     Tell him now, to hold his own.
     He’s not temptation’s keep!
     Tell him he’s as equal as her,
     whatever bigotry says.

Tell her too, that she’s not weak.
Her freedom is no prisoner.
Tell Night that it should free her soul
and release her to liaise.

     Or, do this. Look him in the eye
     and make him contemplate.
     Is it that he is afraid that she might soar?
     And dare. And beat! And amaze.

Hold him tight and ask him so.
Or say that your love is blind.
And admit that you are weak as well -
that you too will avert Question’s gaze.

     Who made this rule
     that he is tough and she will always flee?
     What vile plan has mustered
     such a regressive blaze?

And what has Knowledge taught you?
Are our schools not meant to be
that playground of high wisdom
where learning carves new ways?

     Ask yourself, you Moral’s slave,
     "What greatness can I find
     in kicking Dame Fortune’s image
     while singing her hymns of praise?"

It’s a travesty when Liberty fails
and a society will not see 
that a woman free makes man whole.
She’s another mother’s brace.

     You fool, awake! It’s Destiny’s cry.
     She’s not some prize to play.
     She’s your sense, your means to stay. 

She, is your maker. She’s the keeper of your race!

Comments

Unknown said…
'SHE ' what our society has come to be.....
Always good to read Tejaswi's strong voice...keep them coming :-)
Tejuthy said…
Thankyou :) Is there any way to know who this might be? :)

Popular posts from this blog

The Whole Nine Yards

. “Do you realise that you must wear a   sari ?!” a dear aunt gasped in mock earnestness, while heartily congratulating me on my looming wedding. It brings a smile to me even now, 15 years on, when I think back on the day, as I sit snug in my well-fitted denims, exactly as I did back then, caressing fine silk and contemplating between its many folds whether the colour would reflect the light, if it was too heavy to carry and if I should escape to the ease of a chiffon   kurta   and silk cigarette pants for a festive albeit traditional evening. That effortless elegance can come in lengthy fabrics of all kinds and has held our mothers securely every single day of their adult lives rendering them breathtakingly divine when the occasion so demands, is now a matter of deliberate consideration for ‘special wear’. It makes for serious thought. It is also time again for the cosmopolitan urban belle to revitalise the cultural context and rediscover the glory of the   Sari   – testame

What gives?

Also published  by  North BangalorePost  on June 29, 2018, in light of WHO declaring gaming a mental disorder . Two media reports on WHO including 'gaming disorder' in its International Roster of Disease , a school advisory and a massive hoarding for an online coaching course, got me thinking on my way back from school-drop.  My Son is high on the success of a social media campaign  and app which he believes has given him purpose in life. He is 16, runs his own not-for-profit website and does a lot of his homework on the laptop. But he is a kid at the same time and sneaks in the extra wandering in cyber space. He is far from addicted to any sort of gaming, but when on a digital high, he will not accept that his sudden bouts of unexplained irritability, fatigue or even a dull throb in his head could be related to prolonged screen-time . He will not consider, without a fight, that football on the field need not be followed up with team-trading on the gaming con

The wronger wrong

“yaarigu helodu beda, summage namma paatigey erona. naaley yaarigunu nenupu iralla, bidu ” (No need to tell anyone, let’s stick to going about our business. Tomorrow, no one will remember this, leave it), was one of the least agonizing shows of strength extended to the distraught mother of a four year old girl-child, violated by the local stud of their slum. Parallely, Times of India carried a terrible account of male child abuse left unattended for dacades! Children constitute 42% of India’s population and their safety is paramount to the health of our nation.  But in spite of recent legal reforms that criminalise not only sexual assault and its abetment but also any indulgence in its idea – like child pornography – each day of 2015, recorded eight child sexual abuse cases on average, with only 2.5% ending in convictions. Sure, this alarming trend is not unique to any country in the world and it is not an unknown phenomenon either (for worse statistics, just look at America