Sadhana Subramanian, INDIA

VERBS (IN BRACKETS)

Write…

All the words that sprout in

Your little rebellious fist

Let them grow

But don’t let them get out of hand

Write within the margins of the accepted

No y's asking for too much

No 'f's stepping out of line

Oh and please make your ‘g’s behave

They leave spots often on our whites

Sing…

My dear, like a songbird

All the songs you have hummed into your pillow

But Iet me set the tune of your anguish

Get the bass just right for you, you see

So it sound sees like a symphony

All strings attached to me

I pull, you sing, anything, anything really

No pitch too high though, like a feminist rant

Please! My ears hurt with the noise

Of your rights and my wrongs

And the sound of your drumsticks

Beating down the ‘flaws’ of the system

Run…

Wild and free, feel the wind in your hair

Let the soles of your feet soil

But don’t run too fast, against the grain

Leaving behind all that you must do

Husbands that must be borne

Children that must be born

Don’t run too slow, you gotta keep up with

The milestones of morals,

That your sister crossed, your best friend too

Yes the pretty one

The one without a tattoo

Or cigarette butts on ambitious ash-trays

Or legs stretched on the wrong side of womanly ways

Bleed…

By all means, as much as you have to

As much as you need to

But within the walls of purity

And the edicts of how and where a woman must bleed

As proclaimed in the books of wise-men

And of Gods, who are sensitive, that take offense

Sitting quietly on a hill, closing their doors

To those who made him he

Shine…

Go on, take the spotlight

Bright like a star

Cast away the darkness

Pitch, dense, slightly blunt

Around the edges

With the weight of obedience

But don’t bask in it too much

Too much light is blinding

Too much light overshadows

The rumblings of my thunder

Cry…

Because boys don’t

And if someone should let tears free

It has to be you

The weaker of us must be piled on

Feelings aren’t unisex salons, you know

Where gender roles

Hang in black and white

From fancy hooks tied

To conventions of how one must

And should be

In happiness and in grief

Talk…

Talk

No, wait

Haven’t you said enough already?

I say no, you forgot hope

Hope's a verb, you know

And before you take the trouble to mansplain

The boundaries of grammar

Let me tell you, English is like a woman

Bound by absurd rules

The active, the passive

And its PMS-ing clauses

So it's ok if you don't get it

But there's hope

So I Hope…

For the margins to dissolve that bind us to go by the book

So boundless words flow like a river without narrow fences

For the cages in their minds to swing open

So the songbird sings its own tune

For the upholders of sanctity to celebrate purity of the spirit

Not the anatomy of the sexes and its ebbs and flows

For keepers of fragile egos to let us have our space in the sky

Among the celestial, not eclipsed by the light of their moons.

For the roads to stretch their legs wide into the horizon

So we aren’t measured by milestones, but how far we’ve come without them

So, hope. For hope doesn't need your consent.

WHY DID SHE?

And one day, she took wing
To fly into a rainbow
That tempted from afar
bright, colorful, vibrant
this new world, her calling.

Wild and free,
She leapt into the arms
of a promised land.
Away from the familiar,
Into the unknown
Like sky diving.

And one day, he clipped her wings.
Drowning her dreams
In his cup of desires
Her modesty in his dirty hands
Gnawing away slowly
At her scanty robe of hope.
She caved, surrendered, ran.

Alone with her naked self,
She confronted the mirror
Why did you have to go?
Why did you let him?
Why did you... do nothing?
That dress! it was bound to happen.
Can't you see?

And one day,
She flew backwards,
Like a hummingbird homebound.
Uprooted, recoiled, silent, guilty.

At the end of the darkest hour,
She found a voice she'd submerged
In the muddled waters of norms
In how things must and should be.
Oh but why did she?

The boys clubs disapproved.
The gas lighters killed the fire.
Too late, they said, this accusation.
Imagination gone too far.
Reputation's not a ladder.
They ganged up, men and women,
Cordoned off, him, the gentleman.
There's no way he could, could he?
So why did she?

Like predators needed saving,
Wearing masks of crusaders for change.
Can't touch him, he's a genius.
But he can, without a facade.
Because boys will be boys.
There's such a thing as patriarchy.
So why did she?

For years and years,
You've barked up the wrong tree.
Painted your walls
With deep misogyny.
It was never about her.
It was always about he.
And yet you ask why did she?

The first time Sadhana Subramanian strung two sentences together was on the back cover of an old, half-torn yellow pages directory. Since then, the pen hasn’t stopped. It has written odes to life, love, politics, women’s empowerment, and social issues. Her work has been published in reputed online poetry hubs like spillwords.com and storymirror.com. She was the winner of the Six Week Poetry Challenge conducted by the prestigious On Fire Cultural Movement. She has been a featured poet at Tuesday’s with the Bard, India’s longest running poetry event.  Currently, Sadhana is a Senior Editor for a digital marketing agency.

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Women, Power & Creativity :: Setu, March 2019