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Sohagni Roy

Horror Tragedy Inspirational


Sohagni Roy

Horror Tragedy Inspirational

Homeless, but in our homelands

Homeless, but in our homelands

5 mins

Don't shoot the pigeons, as there aren't many postmen here.

I live in a country of purloiners,

of greed ,

of itchy-palm opportunists,

of oppression,

of inequalities.

Each one pilfering coffers;

coffers of Mahar's body.

They sadle the soul with darkened stones,

plunge a knife into her bosom until sore.

Her body is a canvas of blood painting,

brains meltdown like the wax seals the envelope.

An envelope filled with casteist slurs and graphic rape,

the writing unfazed by tears rolling fqom each cursed alphabet ;

for cursive writing is a more worshipped shrine.

Decades of history lessons and treasuries are still pilfered by authority.

I live in a city of untouchability,

of discrimination,

of cultural otherness,

of poverty,

of prejudices.

Every nook and corner have posters of names,

not mice running amok.

Names of missing Chandal women, Chamar thieves

and sold Dhobi women.

Namasudra girls cry through the posters,

for they are a caricature, nothing more bit everything less.

Monsters are more than fairytales, they are husbands, uncles, upper caste maliks and the 

unknown employers.

Slut ,whores and Sutradhar

are tossed like trash;

commonly but unto a young face, innocent and untouchable.

Centuries of fights for human rights; corrupt hands and deaf ears stay content while young 

Musahar bodies and their question of identity are cremated.

I may not fear losing blood , but I fear losing breath.

Maa asked me to keep quiet

Because silence is something a woman and a shudra ,

be fluent in.

And must for a Marecha women.

She should endure everything that comes in way,

afterall she is a epitome of patience.

I never understood that

until I saw a nine year old Dalit silencing herself.

Ripped apart vagina

and scarred chest

because she was taught silence with a chocolate,

from a stranger

and slaps from Brahmins.

We breathe same oxygen

and bleed the same RBCs.

It's just your shoulders,

are few centimetres above mine

are fairer than mine.

Yours offer libations at the temple,

whilst mine swept the ground.

I never understood silence until

I met a Jaliya professor,

who shut herself up with abuses hurled

by her abusive Principal;

because her mother too taught her

that earning, employment

and education

doesn't prevent you from cooking

or cleaning

after all that's a woman's sole job.

She should do that silently

and never should she dare to

raise her voice against a man,

because you know how men are;

They work so hard.

That Chuhra independent women

who raised her child away from her husband,

silently bore the burden of her childhood lover.

Her life partner's dishonesty;

because silent is what a woman should be

atleast for the sake of her child.

That 21 year old Valmiki girl

was silent too

who was married to a man twice her age.

She was choked and taught how to be silent.

Every night her hands were tied up and a man inside her without her consent.

Silence is what society taught her.

A wife must be dutiful, devoted, selfless and


Silent is something I will never be

even when taught, recited and chanted;

day in and day out,

by Maa.

The society I live in,

and everyone who is shut;

not because I'm not woman enough,

not because I'm a shudra born to do this;

but because I'm a woman who carries

her self respect high

and patience low.

I'm a shudra woman who can't be shut.

I'm a shudra woman aware of my constitutional grant of rights and liberties.

I will rebel

and not without a cause.

Surviving is my occupation, living is too elite to earn.

How do I forgive a family, I cannot divorce?

How do I forgive a mother , who despises me?

says you're a untouchable, says she was cursed, says die

forgets the grade I study in, forgets me

competes with the ache swallowing me whole

or is the ache swallowing me whole

How do I forgive a mother, I cannot find?

How do I forgive a father, who sniffs at me?

says you're filth, says he was dumped, says die

forgets my birthdays, forgets it's to be celebrated

competes with the rage burying me down

or is the rage burying me down

How do I forgive a father, I cannot evade?

How do I forgive a society, I cannot live-in with dignity ?

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