Dr. Sumitra Mishra, INDIA

THE *AGNI PARIKSHA

There was a question

Followed by

A silent nod, weaving a “No” in the air.

Followed by

A chilling hateful look

An attempt to grab by the bun

Then the inevitable invective, “Slut!”,

Then the chasing around the bed.

Tears welling up and slurping

And an affirmative “No” in the pleading eyes.

Followed by

The smacking, the blows, the curse

Causing blistering wounds 

On the body she lent to be licked

Every night under the cloak of love.

Followed by

“Tell me the truth!”

With malice in his eyes

A hard push threw her on the bed

She fumbled and collapsed like a pillow

He got up panting like a running leopard

Twisted his fingers around her neck like a cobra.

Followed by

A struggle to wriggle out

To be pushed again very hard

The curtain was not yet drawn.

“All you women are sluts!” 

There was a pull, a tug that tore the skirt

She could no more tolerate the humiliation

The daily hunting and the Agni Pariksha

The darkness surrounding the question on her chastity 

She ran out into the darkness like a chased doe

And shut the door for ever like Nora Helmer.

*Agni Pariksha = Trial by fire

DID YOU HEAR HER SCREAM?

None seemed to hear her

Muted shout or terrified scream,

The running water in the sink drowned

Her muffled cries, choked with a kitchen towel!

His lips sucked her saucy lips

Bloody

His hands groped and grabbed her softness

Tight

The pain in the groin left her nerves

Numb

When he forcibly pushed himself into her

Fiercely

Yet she could not scream;

Afraid

Of the dark tunnel of shame

For she knew, everyone would say,

It was her fault;

She smiled too much.

She did shout,

“Hey, don’t you dare to touch me!”

But her words became smoke

In the heat of his passion

He tip-toed, closed the door, switched off the light

Confidently

Like a habitual burglar, or a muggy predator.

She tried a kick and push

When he groped between her thighs

She tried to scratch and bite

When she could no more bear the pain,

She was getting bruised, burnt, bloodied,

Her fists wrenched in anger

She was silently dying forever,

Yet did anyone hear her silent SCREAM?

BLOOD WEEPING

“A curse!”, they say.

“A disease!” the ignorant claim.

“Defiled they are!”, they frown.

They don’t understand

That the womb weeps blood periodically

For she realizes

She lost another chance

To be the God, to create,

To harness the life seed.

They believe blood weeping is a curse

On womanhood

A curse for Eve’s sin

“Temptation!!!”

That devastated men’s godliness and the Eden.

They bar blood weeping women’s entry

Into temples, kitchen, bedrooms,

Segregated, quarantined like the AIDS victims

They sleep isolated on discarded mats

Like infected pets

Like abjured refugees

Women are impure during their blood - weeping period

They should not pollute the temple or men

But the juice of the bleeding hole is the tastiest

Men can’t resist the temptation,

What say, you men?

But feel not ashamed women

Your blood weeping is not Eve’s sin

It’s the holy path to eternity

The ceremony of survival

For this Paradise, the Earth

We have made our home and heaven

A gift not given to men!

Dr. Sumitra Mishra, researcher, scholar and writer, is a retired English Professor from Odisha, India. She taught English language and literature to postgraduate students in different colleges and universities in Odisha. She has to her credit, three published anthologies of English poetry titled “Penelope’s Web”, “Flames of Silence” and “The Soul of Fire”, two volumes of Odia poems, two volumes of Odia short stories, and a play. Her latest collection of English poems “Still the Stones Sing” is under publication.

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Women, Power & Creativity :: Setu, March 2019