One night I looked through the shimmering eyes of my mother
and glided down to another mysterious universe:
Where my vision got stumbled upon on various women
and they spilled their heart-wrenching lamentations:
I saw how a girl with childish shenanigans treasuring butterflies
was brutishly tormented for scoring low in her math exam;
Where a ten year old girl faced a treacherous face of child abuse
when her uncle’s hands found salacious desires in between her thighs
as she never had the nightmares of prepossessing chocolate wraps
hiding the parasites of haggard sexual hunger;
Where a girl, newly promoted to puberty accepted the fluorescence of acnes
should have faced the bouquets of acceptance
but slaughtered down through the mockeries and bullies;
Where a fifteen year teen loitering throughout her house for a pinch of a solace
as her parents wearing bullet-proof jackets landed down to the war
and she screeched a lot, but stayed in her mind,
tore her brain cells and she bleed internally;
Where a sixteen year old teen cared to lure her twenty two year old boyfriend
rather than filling her unfinished drawing books
and painting stars with the broken crayons
or simply star-gazing to clear her vision;
Where an eighteen year old was recklessly crushing her heart repeatedly
as her heart had been pulverized for tenth times
through the strokes of her so-called rapchik boyfriends or best friends;
Or where nineteen year knew that the sky is not all pink
but carmine with the blood drops of purgatory mishaps.
I took a stroll for few more steps, and I could easily feel
the universe was roaring like a lion,
as if it never touched the solace
at the tip of its ravenous tongue.
Women who entered the dying prison of bewildering twenties
were already shackled with the unassailable boundaries.
I saw a woman in her twenties beaten to her death
for scattering the period stigmas like a victory
and society couldn’t bear her angelic entity before them.
It’s nerve-wracking when I saw women of mid twenties
had stirred themselves in the smoke of cigarettes,
the intoxication of wines, the imprint of tattoos kissing their entire bodies
where the wrath of depression slowly ate to their tender core
every hour, minute and second…
when nothing could bend down in front of the majesty of toxin traumas.
I saw the bleak rivers of blood floating down,
ruthlessly through the brains of the women
eating 9-5 working hours to their spines
devoting their honour to seduced mouths of their agitating bosses.
“Run run run run”, the married women were running breathlessly
from their homes as their homes turned into a fireball of tantrums
where husbands shaped into Kauravas in no minutes
and there was no Krishna to save them from slut-shaming.
Some massacres literally blocked the chambers of my heart,
putting me to the facade of tattered glasses
when I dwindle in the confusion if a pandemic wrapped a doctor
in so much of satyriasis to rape a pregnant woman,
or the woman stripped before her with her hefty womb,
or if a mother exterminated her girl fetus,
or her in-laws operated their inscrutable eyes,
through the protruded belly;
if a Maa Kali was awaiting to splinter them by her might
as soon as she touched the earth’s soil.
My brain had already been sucked out of all the nutrition,
vacantly lying with its sluggish entity.
It could not see anymore, breathe anymore, bleed anymore.
Where healing was dug under thousand feet below my soil,
I saw the extremely blood-stained sky slowly
stretching towards its bluest vibes,
the soil ensconced with the green sprouts,
the ambience drastically smothered with the naive coldness,
and women were there incredibly alive.
I saw the girls vividly sing,
I saw the girls genuinely cry,
I saw the girls laugh their bellies out,
I saw the girls star-gaze for endless hours,
I saw the girls playing with the ludicrous toys
And I saw they savoured smells, colours, love,
People and purity had its own kind of empire.
Here women were extremely compatible, palpable, vivacious, alluring and free of vices.
Women here were taking flights of empowerment,
Women here were proudly protesting against all odds,
Women here were stagnant to their decisions,
Women here were storming through their revolutions,
Women here were teaching the righteous feminism,
Women here were tasting the fierce freedom
Women here were everything that no men could tag ‘extravagant’,
Now that I was satiated for a head-turning changed picture of the universe,
my voluptuous eyes closed for a moment
while the swanky breeze teased my tufts of hair
leaving me to a state of sheer narcolepsy.
I desired to stay more as everything that unveiled the word ‘triumph’
left the sweetest kiss to my feet.
I wished to lag behind the ravishing positivity.
The positivity took me to a beautiful place
where a slippery hole dragged me to its core,
and suddenly I came out from the pupils of my mother’s oceanic eyes.
Her eyes still looked gleaming
and I breathed the iridescent words of women- triumphing.
Writer: Suchismita Ghoshal
Artist: Pratiksha Dhanik
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