Thryaksha Ashok Garla, INDIA


She threw her head back,
Brought her fist down,
On the table.
A weird snort left her,
As the joke sunk in,
She shook her head panting,
Wiping tears from her eyes.
She looked up to see,
Everyone staring,
Her public demeanour shattered,
She blinked around.
"What? ", she asked,
Still dazed,
Her friend shook it off,
Like 'twas no big deal.
"It's just that you're a girl,
And you laughed so loud,
Not so acceptable,
In a society such as this."
"Oh right", she nodded,
"How could I forget,
But I am a free bird,
Bow down to no one."


She headed outside,
They absorbed her being,
Didn't know if she'd return.
Every single time,
She stepped out of home,
Knew could be the last.
Nowhere safe,
No time safe,
Never guarded.
For no deed of hers,
Not a sliver of her fault,
The only being her gender.
The crooked minds,
Of them wretched souls,
Being her cause of worry.
Cornered by her fears,
Her senses thickened,
As her shadow thinned.
For no use it seemed,
As she felt a sure hand,
Cover her tender mouth.
Cut off her screams,
Block her tries,
Of trying to flee her treacherous fate.
Her efforts put to waste,
The light in her dimmed,
As life left her slow and hard.
All society ever did,
Were talks and walks,
No strong step to the solution.
Individuals toying with the line,
Trying to change minds,
Weren't shotgun.
Being suppressed,
No good came out of them,
Misogyny flared.
Laws, courts, judges,
Police and petitions,
All coursed below.
All coursed below,
The might of the wrong-doers,
Their never-ending slyness.
She let out a shallow huff,
Hoping justice be made,
Praying one last time…


But then one day,
The light went out of her eyes,
A tear rolled down her face,
Her courage crumbled to pieces.
It changed her completely,
The person she was now gone,
Logic now replaced with sadness,
And strength replaced with fear.
Shaken to the very backbone,
She lived on her life,
Not wanting pity,
Trying to think high of herself.
She turned down help,
Though she felt helpless,
She slammed on herself,
And looked in on herself.
She saw that she was broken,
But she built up her walls,
To try and go back,
To what now was gone.
To her surprise,
She felt a hand on her shoulder,
She felt reassured,
She now felt safe.
But the hand pushed her down,
Back into the ground,
Not letting her rise up,
Into the sky.
The first meet with betrayal,
Made her anger boil,
But she was still pure,
Had lots to face more.
With every handhold fake,
With every push back down,
She knew not to trust anyone,
She'd do it all alone.
She rose up to glory,
With a high view of herself,
But looked down upon help,
Because of its traitorous acts…

Thryaksha Ashok Garla, a seventeen-year-old, has been writing since she was a little kid. She has a blog and an Instagram account with about 150 poems posted till date. She touches upon themes such as feminism, self-reliance, love and mostly writes blues. Her poems have been published in two issues of the 'Sparks' magazine, and in poetry anthologies such as ‘Efflorescence' of Chennai Poets’ Circle and 'The current'. She won the first place in the poetry competition held by India Poetry Circle (2018) held in Odyssey. She's a voracious reader, a violinist, and dabbles in art. She can be reached at: by e-mail, Instagram: @thryaksha wordsmith and on her blog

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