Moral-Immoral

The irony of a society

That considers it immoral to have consensual sex before marriage

But moral to be raped by your own husband after marriage

Weapon

I used to fear the sword
A weapon of destruction, malice

But as I look around today
And see the world

Cracked
Bleeding
Split
Carved up into pieces

I realise that the sword
Is nothing compared to hate.

Kaash

काश

एक शब्द जिसमे ज़िन्दगी का हर अफ़सोस समा जाता है

कुछ सुनहरे पलों के इंतज़ार में हर लम्हा बीत जाता है

काश ऐसा होता, काश वैसा होता

ये कहते सोचते पूरा जीवन निकल जाता है।

*******

<English transliteration>

Kaash

Ek shabd jisme zindagi ka har afsos samaa jaata hai

Kuch sunehre palon ke intezaar mein har lamha beet jaata hai

Kaash aisa hota, kaash waisa hota

Ye kehte sochte poora jeevan nikal jaata hai

The Moment

There’s a moment
That I encounter again and again
Often when I step out of the house
As the signal turns red
And I slow down the car to a halt
I see a person approaching
Sometimes old
Sometimes young
Male
Female
Androgynous
Able
Disabled
Making their way
Down the line of cars
Taking a path
That I know will lead them to me
And I sit there
Silently
Hoping for the light to turn green
To avoid the moment that I know is coming
When they finally reach my car
And ask for some money
Trying to get my attention
As I shake my head
While resolutely trying to stare ahead
Not fully sure myself
Of the reason to say no
Because the reason I tell myself
Of my wallet being in the backseat
Of the signal about to turn green
Of the lack of change I’m carrying
Are all flimsy excuses
Covering for the voices
That told me often
Not to give money to beggars
Unless they really need it
But the thing is
That they never really told me
How to figure out
Who really needs it
Do I merely judge them by age
Or the existence of a visible disability
What do I do
When I look into their eyes
And see that deep pain
Deeper than I can fathom
A pain
Beyond age
Beyond gender
Beyond ability
A pain reflecting exhaustion
Hunger
Anger
Misery
And how do I ignore
That twist in my stomach
As it clenches tightly
Screaming at me
To take out the money
That won’t make a difference to me
And to give it out
To the one that really needs it
Regardless of what they do with it
A voice deep inside
Telling me
To be better
To do better
To be the person
I claim I want to be
And yet
I sit there
Hoping
Praying
For them to move on
To the next car
Away from me
So I can sigh in relief
And dwell in that miserable success
Of knowing
That today
Once again
I could have been a better person
And yet
I chose not to.

Inner Thoughts

Maybe

The reason we don’t like spending time alone with our thoughts

Is that we’re terrified of what we might discover

Crime

As the jail burst with new entrants,
A single question arose:

“What’s your crime?”
“My voice.”

“What’s yours?”
“My religion.”

Horror

As I see yet another news report about a rape in the country, I wonder what horrifies me more:

The news itself

Or the ease with which my eyes move on to the next headline