Sylvia plath writes about
eating men like air and
somewhere in a bar
a man ogles at a woman
quoting Plath,
he doesn't know
how her blood boils
when she reads from Ariel,
he doesn't know that soon
her flames will consume him.
Some where in the east
a girl lies on the bed
in cheap lingerie
waiting for her husband
to ravish her ,
he doesn't know
she prepares a bath
of boiling water everyday
to dissolve in later on,
today she hides the
knife beneath her pillow.
I write poems about
a boy I swear
I'm in love with ,
heartbreak made romantic
with pretty words,a drape over my eyes
darker than night
Today I write about how
he's kind only
to beautiful women ,
how expendable we all are
to his icy heart
Words sharp enough to be
Plunged right through it.
In the office break
my mother
smokes a cigarette
behind the canteen
In case people notice
Today she'll burn her saree in between slow drags
They'll see
How fire doesn't hurt her
Because she's made from it.
My little sister turns the saree
into a cape
Paints her lips red
Calls herself a superhero
Today I won't correct her
Tell her it's her call if
she wants to save the world
wearing lipstick and stilettos.
For we are made of
Smoke and fire
Not pretty metaphors
We are ugly, when you
remove the airbrush
We are sweat,blood ,dirt, pain
We are the daughters
of chaos so beautiful
That the world stares
In our country
they worship women idols
Somewhere in a battered
history book
I read how people
worshipped those
they were most scared of
I wonder how many sacrifices
It took to get rid of nightmares
All riddled with women
emerging stronger
How many girls
Had to be killed at birth
To ensure our submissiveness
Yet with hands tied
And wings clipped
We rise from ashes
Like a Phoenix
Only real
We are the ghosts
Of the women gone
Striving to break free
From the pages
Where you make us
look beautiful when
in reality we were
so dangerous that
You had to make us
into stories
Watered down
with tragic deaths.
The kohl rimmed eyes
The red moths
The pale skin
They reek of death and blood
And not cologne
Think for a second
What happens when
you unleash us
What happens when
we look you in the eye
and ask you
WHY?
- Aindrila Banerjee