Wednesday, September 16, 2015

He is a Man!


He's a Man, oh what a man is he.
The notions of his manliness, as massive as the sea.
He is who we look up to, he is who we see
He is someone like who, we would all want to be.

He was born somewhere, it was the usual act,
That he was born a man, is the only fact.
What region, what religion, what caste, what sect.
That he was born a man, is the only fact.

His mother cried with joy! She was blessed with a boy!
Against all odds, facing all derision,
Murdering two fetuses, had been a good decision.
The result was here, an outcome of the ploy.
His mother cried with joy! She was blessed with a boy!

Another place, another time, in other dark corners.
A household cried, filled to the brim with mourners.
The iron axe had swooped, there was blood and slaughter.
An unfortunate poor woman had been cursed with a daughter.

They tried drowning her in milk, she lived.
They tried smothering her with silk, she lived.
They tried treating her with sticks, she lived.
Through thicks and thins and tricks, she lived.

He had a phone when he was three,
That's when she was first slapped.
She toiled hard when she was five,
That's while he played and clapped.

He grew up with due recklessness,
She grew up with due care.
He roamed the streets with fearlessness,
She walked avoiding the stare.

Reading and writing was freedom for him,
For her it was struggle and pain.
The world of choices was open for him,
She was bound by the moral chain.

He ogled at women, on long, dark alleys,
He teased and called them names.
His mother told him it was normal for boys,
And things were never the same.

She was promised to a man double her age,
With bundles and bouts of money.
The dark of the night entered her life,
On a day bright and sunny.

He boarded a flight to tour the States,
She went up the wedding stage.
What happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas,
While she was admitted into the cage.

And one fine day, things changed for them,
The day their paths crossed.
And one fine day, things changed for them,
The day her life paused.

She dared to venture in the night,
In a dress that bared her legs.
He happened to be driving by,
His throat numbed by pegs.

He pulled her in, without much thought,
His craving needed to be satisfied.
She screamed, she cried, she begged, she pleaded,
She was stifled, gagged and tied.

He tore the clothes off the object
The machine was ready to be used.
He scratched and pushed and beat her through,
She was way too dazed to move.

When it was done, the machine was dumped, across an empty street.
The meal was eaten, the dessert relished, here was the leftover meat.

She was a woman, oh what a woman was she.
Her dreams, her hopes, her expectations, shattered, with glee.
She lies bare on solid ground, see many a passerby,
She steadily takes shallow breaths, almost ready to die.

She knows she has no option now,
She is now a cog in the game.
She happily welcomes the world beyond,
Where there is no loss of name.
It's not her fault, it's not her doing,
And yet she'll take the blame.
She slowly accepts eternal sleep,
Her life confined to a flame.

He's a Man, oh what a man is he.
The notions of his manliness, as massive as the sea.
He is who we look up to, he is who we see
He is someone like who, we would all want to be.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Menifism!


Be who they want you to be.
Do what they want you to do.
Say what they want you to say.
Stay how they want you to stay.

'Stop being a chick', they point.
'Oh, that's effeminate', they lament.
'Boys don't cry', is the adage.
Maybe, we're just not on the same page.

When did emotions become gender-ized?
When did expression gain a copyright?
When did politeness become meek?
When did silence become a tool of the weak?

Talk about women, drink and make hay.
If you can't do that, you're probably gay.
You're judged by the quantity of your hook-ups.
And the quality of your street fights and your bloody crook-ups.

If you're a Casanova, you're smart.
Oh well, a Prostitute knows the same art.
Sparkle your language with bouts of dirt.
That should do the trick, you pretentious flirt!

If you're different, it's obviously a stigma.
Or maybe you're just a boundless enigma.
It doesn't matter, what are your battles or your hopes.
You, my dear, are bound to be the butt of our jokes.

Those subtle moves, that sway of your hand.
The manner of your talk, the way you brush off that strand.
There's a sublime thread to it,
To which we shall add our judgment.
Boys will be boys, they're just born that way.
You either accept that code of conduct, or lead a life astray.

You laugh at my difference, I laugh at your similarity.
You laugh at my ignorance, I laugh at your familiarity.
We were never meant to be together, You and me.
The depths of my ocean could never be fathomed by your sea.

You see what your eyes show you.
You assume what your mind tells you to.
Break away your restrictive conventions young man,
And see a life with your heart, a person anew.

He's not as you want him to be.
He's not as you expect him to be.
He's just an object of your beration
And that sweetheart, adds to his liberation.

We've cried hoarse over the dearth of Feminism.
Let's get back to the cores and accept our Menifism.