Tag Archives: Poetry

Lipsticks are for Bad Women

When I was Five, My uncle had come from Saudi Arabia, I was sitting across from him, He called me closer and gave me a little present, I unwrapped it and saw a green color lipstick, “Green?” I asked, clearly, disappointed. “This is a magic lipstick, when you wear it, it will turn red,” he said.

Next day, I was getting ready to school, Ponds powder and eyetex bindi, Black ribbons for my plaits, Uniform, White socks and shoes and a small white chalk piece to paint the brown spots fair, And some parachute oil to tame the frizz on my crown. All done. Then, I slowly picked that green lipstick and stroked it on my lower lips and it turned red. I smiled.

Then, someone grabbed the lipstick from my hand, my father, He walked swiftly to the balcony, threw the stick outside, turned to me and said “Lipsticks are for bad women,” and went away. And, I stood, holding the balcony grills and looking at that magic lipstick on the road.

When I was fifteen, My mom enrolled me into the math tuition that starts at 6:00 AM and I had only 2 salwar kameez, so, I wear them on alternative days, In weeks time, tuition mates asked why am I not wearing anything else, their eyes were glistening with mischief,

“You are going to tuitions to study and not for a fashion parade,” said my mother.

I vividly remember borrowing a bunch of colorful hairbands from a friend, I cannot wear them at home because questions, I would keep the bunch in a small pouch, hide it inside my bag, I will ride my cycle, go to the next street, I’d wear the hair band and smile.

Then my elder sister wanted company and took me to a parlor and asked, “hey! Do you wanna thread your brows and I said yes!” I cried because that was the first time I’m plucking my brows. It was painful. I cursed my sister. But, when it was over and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt pretty. But, also, I had to keep my eyes on the floor just so I don’t get caught. But, that wasn’t a big task of a thing because I am always expected to keep my head down because I am a woman.

Things slightly changed when I went to college though,

I had better clothes to wear. 5 of them. I had power and I wore glasses, so I do not have to wear Kajal you know, I used to tell my friends. Ok, I lied to my friends. Truth is, I was not allowed to wear anything makeup.

Hostel life though was a tad different, Four of us in a room with shelves assigned for each, I would see their shelves with deodorants and perfumes and lip-glosses but mine were plain, I would wait for them to leave, I would sneak, and take a little bit of those cosmetics to try, The orange of that lakme on my lips and the moral science about stealing something on my mind, The fragrance of a tommy Hilfiger perfume on my wrist and the values that my grandma taught via the Mahabharata and Ramayana story in my heart,

Whenever I ask that I want something so cosmetic at home, they’d say “It would attract boys!” or they’d blatantly ask “Whom are you trying to attract?”

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I grew up to understand that the world sees a man’s body as a vessel for one’s soul, But, a woman’s body though is not it. It is sexualized. I grew up to understand that the world sees a man’s clothes as civilization, But, a woman’s clothes are designed to just attract the male eye.

I was taught that women dress up to attract men, I was preached that women who dress up are bad women, who’d wear red lipsticks are sluts, and high heels are what porn stars wear.

I was forced to think that female sexuality is for everyone else except herself, I was forced to assume that female sexuality is required only when they want to please their partners,

A woman should know to dress enough to satisfy her male counterpart, be innocently seductive but not anything else.

But, then, I think I really grew up over the past decade, With life happening, love happening, social media and great bunch of friends and books, Trip to a different country and jumps to different companies, I sense a notable shift in my ideology,

Moral policing on social media is always on the high, I look at people commenting, Sleeveless clothes are not feminist’s tools, That, short skirts are not really empowering, Moreover, body hugging clothes – OMG! Is this even feminism?

Let me tell you something, When a person is not allowed to do something, if the reason is their gender, and if the person rebels against it, it is feminism.

There’s no said tabular column or match the following with a list stating what all fall under feminism and what doesn’t.

So, next time, when you have the urge to comment “Is this feminism?” or “Oh dear woman, you don’t even know what’s feminism. Torn clothes are not it,” or “revealing clothes is not feminism” or “what you’re wearing would invite rapists,” and sorts.

Take a white sheet of rectangular paper and write down your comments, Hold the top corners, bring them closer, and make a triangle, Flip it and fold it, Flip it again and fold it, Make a paper plane out of it. Keep it upright. 90 degrees. Take it down. Far below your crotch, Shove it up your ass and fuck off.

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Have Some Shame!

When I first had a crush, And when I said that to the person of interest, He said “You’re a woman. Have some shame!”
 When I fell in love for the first time,When I winked and blew an air-kiss to him because the initial butterflies in my stomach made me do so, He met me in private and warned, “You’re a woman. Have some shame!”
 When I was all in love and when all the songs made perfect sense, And, when I got some private time with him,I hugged him from behind, He turned and said, “You’re a woman, have some shame!” – Because a Woman doesn’t take initiative.
 When I was intimate with my ‘forever partner’ and when I barged in to give him the first kiss because the inevitable chill wouldn’t let me be, He again said the same lines that all others said.
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I’ve had no qualms about showing affection to my own body, When my roommate caught me pleasuring, she was shocked, she gave me a disgusting look, and told, “You’re a woman and you’re not supposed to do that. You’re in India not in a foreign country. Have some shame!”
 I failed once, I was deeply distressed and upset, But I didn’t cry, Many around me were shocked that I didn’t and said “You’re a woman!” How can you not cry, are you a stone?
When someone groped me on the road, I got all worked up and I pulled up a fight, “OMG! You’re a woman. Have some shame, will you?”
 When I started working, I striven to become better, And, I was put in a situation to raise my voice because none listens to the feeble, “Stop yelling will you? Act like a woman!” they suppressed me.
 The other day when I was munching a pack of chips, Loud and all that, They said, “You’re a woman. You’d grow fat. And then, you’re not allowed to eat that loud,”
Have some shame, woman. Don’t burp or fart or pick your nose. You’re a goddamn woman for a reason.
 I met a bunch of friends, A group of men and women, And, I didn’t notice that I had a wardrobe dysfunction and that my cleavage took a sneak peek, “This is so wrong! Are you giving signals to any of the guys? You’re a woman. Women don’t do that. Have some shame!”  they said. They’re clearly not proud about having me in their lives.
 If you don’t have a problem when a person with penis does something and if you have a problem if a person with a vagina and a pair of boobs does the same thing, it’s you who should be ashamed.
Have some shame, dear society!
 Stop sexism!

28.3

I’m 28.3 years old,Yes, the age that many of them consider as pretty old,Probably the age when you’re expected to have a board around your neck that reads ‘Sold’
I know of people, who worry a lot, When the scale of their age slides slightly to the right, but Guess what?I’m actually really happy.You know why? Let me explain it to you!
Because, I’ve crossed the baby days when ‘milk mustache’ mattered,I’m done with the toddler stage, when I thought that the shells I find in the shore are from the mermaids.I’m not in preschool, when all that mattered was the decals stickers on my bedroom walls,And, also I’m not in high school, when bullying was the most terrible thing,
I’m not a teen anymore;Those were the days I thought,People have the heart made of gold,And, I can trust someone who’d smile like a sun,You know those teenage-teeny thing are all outdone.
I’ve traversed the young adult stage when I thought roses burst in rainbow colors,When I thought love was all about Romeo and Juliet,And, life is like a lantern that floats in the sky, And, my soulmate was that guy with bright green eyes.

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I’m not 20 year old to mellow down and ask ‘Ah.. May I’I’d now shout like thunder and ask ‘Excuse me’ I need extra ketchup please.
I’m not 21 to cry when my plants have yellow spots,But, hey, sorrows and concerns are always tightening the knots.
I’m not 22 to make a wish with dandelion, Or to pray with one of my eyelashes on my knuckles, I’m so damn done with the customer care calls that I just slap them with a ‘I’m not interested’
 I’m not 23 anymore to stay in love with the wrong kinda guy,I’m not 24 to constantly have doubts about my own abilities,I’m 28.3 – who knows that success will never wait for you with arms spread wide,
When I was 25, I risked my life for that one person, whom I cared a lot about, But now, I go out with someone I’m interested, share the food bill, and then take a selfie with a pout,
When I was 26, Guilt and regret swirled inside my belly,When I was 27, I slowly learned to shut the echoes of the Memories that are best forgotten,
Now that I’m 28.3,
I easily shut everything down, ignore life and take a long nap,I’m a literature fanatic but let’s just say I’m still a Harry Potter fan, does that sound dramatic?I now delete the pathetic evidences that I’ve left on Facebook, And, I know I can survive another heart break, just like the previous one.I know that life, is just a pair of tectonic plates, that shifts at times,
I’m bold, and reckless,But, you might call me a bitch and characterless.
I’m finally who I’m supposed to be,I know that life is a play of emotions – joy, happiness, hatred, love and longing,Life’s too short to just exist, I chose to live where I felt a sense of belonging.
 – Kavipriya Moorthy

 

Out of your Wedlock

It was when I lost my innocence, That everything else made perfect sense.
That I was a result of a random affair, And, I’m being cursed now, how is that even fair?
Something that sparked between the old flames, But, why should I carry the burden and be blamed.
How would I even explain you the pain, To be the walking embodiment of what’s called as shame.
To what do I owe this honor? I’ve got to live with a misnomer.
I try to endure this with great fortitude, But the neighborhood says, “like your mother, you’d become a prostitute,”
I feel like I’m drowning in a bottomless pond, I don’t even know what’s father-daughter bond? Oh, when I call him, he never responds. Can someone change my life with a magical wand?
My tears don’t wash away my sorrows, But, it hurts to know that my initials are to be borrowed.
And people forget to see what’s beneath my skin, Their comments that brings tears to the brim,
None understood my grief, Can I live a different life for at least a short brief?
I just want to go nowhere, Away from this world that spells not of affair. Dear God, let me please disappear, The opinions and judgements – oh, I don’t want to adhere.
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— Kavipriya Moorthy

எழுத்தாளர் என்ற பெருமையுடன் மாய்வேன்!

பெருமையுடன் பச்சை குத்தி கொள்ள பெரிதாக ஒன்றும் சாதிக்க வில்லை,

பல அவமானங்களை தாண்டி, DSC_8005

பல இழிவுகளை சுமந்து,

தேவையற்ற பிரச்சனைகள் கடந்து,

முன்னேறி,

சிந்தித்து, செயல்பட்டு,

பல கரங்களை பிடித்து,

சிலர்க்கு உதவி செய்து அதில் திருப்தி அடைந்து,

எண்ணற்ற ஏளன பார்வைகளை பொறுத்து கொண்டு,

வெட்டிய அனைத்து குழிகளிலும் விழுந்து, எழுந்து,

அதிர்ஷ்டம் என்று ஒரே சொல்லில் என் அனைத்து வெற்றிகளையும் புதைப்பவர்களை மன்னித்து,

ஒவ்வொரு நாளும் ஏதேனும் நல்ல குறிப்பு தோன்றாதா , நல்ல படைப்பு ஏதேனும் படைப்போமே என்று பார்த்து கொண்டிருக்கும் நான் எழுத்தாளர் என்ற பெருமையுடன் மாய்வேன்!

உன் சீண்டல்களும் கேலி பேச்சுகளும் தாங்குகின்ற சக்தியை கொடுத்ததும் என் பேனா தானே?

தூற்றுவதில் சந்தோஷம் அடையும் நீ, ஒரு முறை பாராட்டி பார் – அதன் சந்தோஷம் பன்மடங்கு பெரிது என்று புரியும்!

 

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