Rusted Chains Calling Out

You Say When I Bleed.

Don’t touch us. Your presence – An incarnation of Lakshmi one day and Durga the next. The harbinger of ill fate today.

Don’t step into our kitchens. Your food – Brimming with heavenly deliciousness each day. Poison to our hearts today.

Don’t enter our temples. Your prayers – The anchor for our lives every day. The murk in our sacred waters today.

Don’t come to our last rites. Your love – Spreading the sunshine of happiness. A curse to eternal damnation today.

 

I Bled.

I bled and I touched. You called my presence your lucky charm.

I bled and I cooked. You applauded me and licked your fingers clean.

I bled and I prayed. You praised my piousness.

I bled and I loved. You reveled in my affection.

I bled and I hid it. You lived. You liked. You found nothing wrong.

 

Tell Me Then.

My womb – revered when carrying a baby, yet unclean when preparing for one. WHY?

My mind – a disciple of reasoning, still looking for answers from you who think I’m wrong. WHEN?

My world – uncontaminated and healthy, notwithstanding my breaking the rusted chains of blind customs. HOW?

 

I wait with an open heart and listen with an eager mind, dear world.

Explain to me your ways and I shall comply.

Convince my mind and I shall not defy.

But if you fail,

Accept I have proven you wrong all my life, and send a promise my way.

A promise – to let go of what we cannot answer.

A promise – to ask a Why before we follow.

A promise – to keep alive in us, the essence of our past but not the past itself!