Month: August 2018

Progress

A dusty deserted stretch of the street
along the town of tall towers.
The rotting garbage and humid heat.
The balconies with artificial flowers.

The broken road like a broken dream.
Potholes deep and shallow.
Balding tires screech and scream
subduing a child’s wallow.

Swimming pool with chlorinated water.
The raindrops toxic and harsh.
The crickets no more chitter chatter.
No frogs jump into the muddy marsh.

The snake slithered into the drain
chased by fumbling guards on call.
The bird peeked through the window pane
at the painting of forest on the wall.

The earth smells of paint and pesticide.
But all the hypocrisy and display aside-
We have progressed…or so we thought.
Every human happily mutating into robot.

© Taruchaya

Come back…Childhood!

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Photo © Taruchaya

Pinch and pricks
Lame little tricks
Peek-a-boo baby
Choose stones or sticks.
Spin the small spin-top
Watch it come to a stop
Collect the glass marbles
Don’t let them drop.
Fill up each balloon
Tie them up soon
Move on to the lemon
and balance on a spoon.
Jump hop-pity hop
Bring a lollipop
Who wants to play
Thief and the Cop?
Lost happy days
Life’s lousy chase
Come back childhood
Every adult prays.

© Taruchaya

Ashamed and afraid

The first cry lasts for a lifetime

The vision of the world is blurry
She only recognizes her mother’s heartbeat
And she feels her loving touch.
The lights are so blinding
The sounds make her so scared
She tries to sleep as long as she can
to forget this reality as a dream.
She learns to adjust to life
She learns to work her way to survive
She learns to love and be loved
She learns to trust without any doubts
A baby trusts her parents
A student trusts her teachers
A teenager trusts her friends
An adult trusts her husband
And then she encounters deception
A trap set up by her trusted people
They play with her emotions
Manipulate her feelings and thoughts
And chaos ensues- destroys everything
Breaks her heart, her hope and confidence
She realizes she was the sacrificial lamb
Brought up to be slaughtered at will
Her breath is owned by others
Her body belongs to someone else
Her heartbeats are conveniently hushed up
Her soul evaporates into the air
The family doesn’t want a black sheep
The friends only care about some fun
The society rallies to save honour
The husband wants his desires fulfilled
Her voice is choked into silence
Her dreams are dashed to the ground
Rape is a correctional punishment
She deserved the acid on her face
Standing on the ledge of the window
As she peeped some storeys down
People cheered for her to jump
and hurry so they can move on with their lives.
Waiting for her routine train to office
As a stalker slit her throat
No one dared stop the killer
It was just another breaking news
Sold by her father for some money
so that he can afford his drinks
Even a little child is not spared
She is a commodity for sale
Her friends spiked her drink
She woke up bleeding after rape
Yet she is the one to be blamed
She shouldn’t have been friends with men
The duty of a wife is simple
Satisfy the husband’s needs
Who is she to dare to deny?
Marital rape is not a rape.
Who shall we blame for all this?
This is the lovely world we live in
A girl is a burden, a curse.
We are ashamed and afraid to be born a girl
© Taruchaya
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