Somewhere in the innumerous rituals that surrounded your death
and the selfish demands of the living
and in the midst of the abuse
and in the lack of light in your eyes and your perfunctory nods that reiterated your indifference again and again...
while they lit up with animation when my brother so much as came into the room
Somewhere amidst the rules of behavior that children must be seen not heard, that your opinions don't matter, so do as you're told
and the 'isn't it time you started working, you lazy so and so'
and the 'you're in your mid-20s, it's time you got married (even though you're...) '
and in the time that I laughed with the boss at his stupid, senseless jokes, and did his dirty work for him that he so diligently delegated while my promotion dangled in his hands like a knife on a thin thread..
Somewhere about the time I came home to a spouse who found fault with everything I did, nothing is right
whose love swayed with the amount of money I earned
Somewhere amidst the lack of friends who had all got married and disappeared
Somewhere...when I had no say when the 500 Rs notes in my purse turned to mere papers in a moment
and the movie ticket I bought to spend a little quality time with my family doubled overnight making it an unaffordable luxury
Some time when no matter how much I achieved, I couldn't make it to 'first grade' because that's reserved for a certain skin type, for the insider, for the right caste...
Somewhere when I was told that some section was imposed that could take away my living in the wink of an eye and leave me and my family stranded on a road to nowhere...
Somewhere amidst it all....
I lost my voice.
We often encounter people who are insensitive and rough.They judge and hurt people for silly things and try to downgrade others.Yes, we succumb sometime and feel depressed.Thank you Glory for sharing this wonderful poem.
Write comment. Such an impressive start, Glory S. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is my second or third visit.How does one lose his voice? It is really a matter of worry when the desired support from a loved one does not come when it is most essential.Nothing is worse than a disgruntled spouse who complains against every thing you do.
Thank you so much for reading, Bharati.