Stop it

This is the angry voice of women all across who are subject to moral policing. To those who tell us what to wear, how to act, what to speak, what is good, or a sin, or right, or wrong, I say, 'stop!'

                                   

If you are in white and khakis

And tell me to stop, turn or park

I might do that.

 

But if you are not one of those cops

And a self proclaimed inspector of righteousness

Your directions-not even heard.

 

Those of you behind curtains of guilt

Carrying your body like its an ugly baggage

Hidden behind walls of shame

You tell us how to sit and how not to walk

Keep your sinful prayers and preaching to yourself

Do not pollute my holy space

With such impure energies.

 

I rejoice in this body

And my body dances with my spirit.

 

And those of you in orange

Claiming to be the fathers of Indian morality

Let me tell you

This is the land of Shakthi

The raw, primal life force

That which is and maketh

Untamable, undeniable

Chaotic and perfectly syncrhonised.

 

When life exists in us as this raw energy

Who are you to determine our movement

And restrict our choices?

How dare you raise your hand against the manifestation of the very force

You seem to be worshipping?

How can you bow to Her

And raise sticks upon us?

 

You do not decide what I wear, where I go or who I meet

Never put shame or guilt in me

Keep the sickness to yourself.

 

How can you call out to her as Ma

And abuse Her daughters for being who we are

Disrespect our truth, deny our spirit

Under false contexts of purity and virtue?

You cannot fathom the fine intricacies of my beautiful soul

You are too loud, lost and abrasive to perceive higher truths.

And you tell me

How to be?

 

Neither do you see my cries

Nor understand my earthy laughter.

But in all this it is the Great She who experiences her countless facets.

No matter what we wear, who we choose to be.

It is Her play through us.

 

You do not decide our lineage

We, by virtue of being women, Are Her.

 

I am Her.

 

So is every one of my sister.

 

You may hold certificates of expertise

And grand theories of science to prove your claims

But doctor dear, I am capable of magic

I heal, I cure, I am miraculous.

 

You could tell me what to eat

How to breathe

But in my body lies the wisdom of ages

That has birthed life since the beginning of existence.

My intuition as a mother, as a woman

Is as real as your studies and research.

I know through my instinct

What you decipher through study

And by that I decide what is good for me.

 

And the authorities of pleasure

Here me out.

You can write columns, have debates

Pretend to be makers of rules, of do's and don'ts

But really, you got no clue….

 

Isn't it a wonder

That until a couple of hundred years ago

There was no record or theory

Of woman's side of trekking up the hill and reaching the peak?

Experts, male experts

Never contemplated

That women were capable of it.

 

Perhaps its to do with the fact

That we can climb and more

And reach peak after peaks

Go higher and higher

Something that men would fall (rather flat) if they attempt without a break.

The geographies honey and the chemistry of it

Are sure different.

You need to be us to know it.

 

There still are some funny groups who call it a myth..

On the other side are scientists who are baffled

As apparently we alone have an organ

That serves absolutely no evolutionary purpose.

 

Perhaps its a little secret between the Universe and Us.

And She knows as well as we do, the soul purpose of it.

 

And you, the most unconscious of all

The sick perverts and the whole range of unintelligent supporters in power

Do not ever point a finger at us

For the maniacs in you

We have lost children

To the brutalities of unconsciousness

Swept by rage

Killing innocence forever

You continue to exist.

And when it comes to taking action

There were discussions on the attire worn

That may have 'induced' the incident.

Oh no, do not play that game.

 

I know many of us

Meeting all your high codes of proper presentation

Brought down to such indignity

By words and acts purely crass

I have seen it, experienced it first hand

Don’t you think you can fool us

The difference between animals and us

Is the power to choose

And not let the unconscious take over.

But from my update on the wild kingdom

Reports show no or very rare incidence of rape

And almost never is a female attacked by a group

It seems you are one of a kind.

 

And you sons of the bearded man

Those who believe any raise in voice

Is because of hormones down below

Believers of what’s beneath the surface

Our mind is not all.

We come from a deeper space and it is to This we long to return.

I will raise my voice, scream, make a scene

Or I may be calm, make a note, and decide my route

By neither makes me a case of hysteria

You can use that term

If you do not want to hear the truth behind the rage

But again I am not falling for that.

 

And finally, those of you who call yourselves masters

I can say the real ones from you

There were those who said God made man and

Then made woman from his spine or such

Those are old tales none buy anymore.

 

But you new fellows, please do not try to sell me the nonsense

That I could be less possible of perceiving the Ultimate Truth

Of treading the Silent Path

The Path has less to do with curves of my body

And much to do with the mysteries within my soul.

 

That which is seeking to return home to a place

I knew even before I took this form.

 

Alone, Free, Absorbed, Am

All this exist beyond the mind.

 

And as much as one needs to be aware and present

My emotions needn't be a foe to this state.

As my heart is a part of this path too

Not to be denied or kept locked

But let free to guide me

Along this intimate journey

To the Beloved.

 

I am here now

Exploring, seeking, returning

As a girl, woman, seeker, and Spirit

And a dance, a song along the way

Is as essential to my Soul as is Truth and Infinite nothingness.

 

If you can share with me in this journey brother

As a friend, companion in love, a fellow traveller

You are most welcome

Or else, say nothing.