The Dark Side

I succumb to the walls,
Retiring all my beliefs.
My fears standing tall,
Dance upon my relief.

The ceiling is tainted,
As shadows pirouette.
Their tunes are painted,
Along hues of contempt.

This conjunction joining,
Two different parts of me.
Is a neat & willful catering,
To a darker side you never see.

-Nameera.

Pride

By river Styx He swore,
To let him have his fate.
His son’s pride had bore,
A ripe fruit so very late.

In a manner quite haughty,
He talked with might & will.
Telling friends how mighty,
His father, the Sun God is.

They refused to believe,
The word of a mere child.
In angst the boy heaved,
A sigh marked with pride.

All he saw was the Sun,
His golden opportunity.
To avoid being shunned,
From his meek company.

His mother showed the way,
To her son’s death wish.
To not venture & stay,
Was her last, unheard plea.

He was more than glee,
To see his blood arrive.
The son, deterred uneasily,
Demanded for a ride.

Now this ride, you see,
Was not a simple one.
Helios was no more glee,
For he had come undone.

He had swore by river Styx,
To grant his inane demands.
Now that everything was fixed,
The boy wanted the God’s stand.

In the end he lost control,
And fed himself to the flames.
No flesh of his was left to mourn,
He burnt in the name of fame.

The fruit so very ripe,
Was all he left for us.
A sickness called pride,
Will never be enough.

We’ll want more & more,
As it lures us into it.
The end is forevermore,
I swear by river Styx!

-Nameera.

A year ago I read a book on Greek Mythology titled, ‘Stories of old Greece & Rome’ by Emilie Kip Baker on Project Gutenberg. It’s a really good book for beginners, just so you know.

The poem is based on the following mythology:

“Phaethon, challenged by his playmates, sought assurance from his mother that his father was the sun god Helios. She gave him the requested assurance and told him to turn to his father for confirmation. He asked his father for some proof that would demonstrate his relationship with the sun. When the god promised to grant him whatever he wanted, he insisted on being allowed to drive the sun chariot for a day. Placed in charge of the chariot, he was unable to control the horses. The Earth was in danger of being burned up and, to prevent this disaster, Zeus was forced to strike down the chariot with a thunderbolt and kill Phaethon in the process.”

Source.

The problem was that Helios swore by river Styx & hence he couldn’t deny what Phaethon wanted.

The lesson to learn from this story, as I like to think is that pride usually blinds our senses & logic. Sometimes, to prove ourselves right we end up burning in the fiery flames of reality much like Phaethon.

The questions we need to ask ourselves today are:

What are we trying to prove & most importantly, to whom are we trying to prove?

In the grand scheme of things what matters is how we lived our lives, not how we let pride drive our chariot straight into the blinding light & crash it headlong into flames.

Oculus

Circling this holy tomb,
We sharpen our spears.
The rising blood moon,
Is destined to appear.

The night is stretched,
Across these shadows.
Demons so wretched,
Stoke rage with bellows.

The hole you’re left with,
Engraved upon the heart.
Is the window; too stiff,
To let life take a start.

Tear the curtains apart,
Smash the window panes.
Mend your bloody heart,
Hold on till you’re sane.

-Nameera.

Barren

She’s the desert he left,
For greener pastures.
Losely tied weft threads,
Dismantled their stature.

Winsome eyes once bore,
A dream now distorted.
They saw a family of four,
But her fertility retorted.

Society labelled her ‘barren’,
Restricting her existence.
With falling tears she is laden,
Asking God for repentance.

Her shreiks reverberate,
As She yearns for a baby.
His utmost hatred sedates,
The mind of a useless lady.

Her precious heart,
Is never their concern.
For not playing her part,
She will always be shunned.

-Nameera.


If a woman is childless, does she become unworthy? If she doesn’t have the ability to give life, is it permissible for the society to torment her mentally?

What will you do if your daughter, sister or wife is barren? Would you rather let her drown in guilt for a cause that was never her fault or stand by her side?

If the purpose of a woman was to only give birth & ensure continuous survival of mankind, then they would be no more than a baby-making factory.

Colors

All the colors she’s living,
Black, tangerine & pink.
Is his majestic giving,
For as long as he lives.

Once death meets man,
She’s stripped of her hues.
Bangles taken off her hand,
She sings the lonely muse.

Pushing her into the fire,
They send her away to him.
Colorful bangles she admired,
Now pierce her naive skin.

With wrists covered in blood,
The fire wraps around her.
The death of a man she loved,
Becomes her ultimate curse.

-Nameera.


The practice of Sati was quite common in India till the British invasion.

Even though it was initially tolerated under the colonial rule, protesters like William Carey(Chritian missionaries) & Mohan Roy(Hindu Brahmin) led to a ban on this immoral practice where a woman, on the death of her husband would commit suicide by burning herself, whether she wanted to or not.

The red sindoor on her forehead and in the parting of her hair, one of the signs of marriage, is wiped clean. In some cases, all her jewellery is removed and her glass bangles are smashed. Other traditions, that are thankfully becoming less common, include shaving the widow’s head and giving her a ritual bath, after which she may be forbidden from wearing colourful sarees. She will only be allowed to wear white or pale colours.

_The Quint

Even though all or most of these practices are illegal now yet it’s not uncommon to hear about the prevalence of such rituals in rural areas.

Apparently with the death of a husband a woman loses all rights to live a colorful life.

-Nameera.

Self-Growth

What is creativity? Well, its definition goes something like this.

Focus on the synonyms above- imagination, innovation, originality & individuality. These are elements that make one creative.

I think self-growth is the most basic kind of creativity that we’re all inherently capable of. We’re constantly creating ourselves. We re-create ourselves as we break.

The canvas we’re working on is life. What makes us different is the tools we use for growth. Not everyone can use a brush to paint strokes of color. Some of us are more habituated to using a pencil for a more crisp outcome. Hence, the rate at which each one of us grows differs too. Some learn to paint early in life while others still struggle to find their right colors.

So, keep growing in your own unique way. Don’t sketch along the same lines as others, your life should be your artwork.

Invent yourself through tough times & experiences.

Let Her Be

Don’t confine her in poems & prose,
You can’t win her over with a rose.

Leave expectations far behind,
When you’re entering her mind.

She isn’t the heroine of your story,
Her past is the one filled with glory.

Raw beauty by definition,
She’s devoid of limitations.

She has bled to the core,
Yet she’s ready for more.

A bruise for a birthmark,
She was fire since the start.

She is truly exceptional,
Her magic is unintentional.

Killing a tide was a silly notion,
That only enraged the ocean.

Let every man witness,
Her demanding respect.

-Nameera.

18 & melancholic!

Today was simply one heck of a morning!

I was sound asleep in my room when distinct voices woke me up. At first they were unclear but soon I could make out what my mother was saying on the phone, “Oh, how much did you get? What about Nameera?”, the last line was a signal enough for me to figure who it was & what they were talking about.

I leapt out of bed frantically. Days ago in my mind I had come to the conclusion that I’ll get around 76 per cent in 12th grade board exams. “Nameera, tujhe 79 aaye!? (Nameera, you got 79 per cent)” as much as I was hoping to somehow get 80 per cent beyond all odds, just the number ‘8’ followed by a zero would’ve made a huge impact on my mind. But 79.6 wasn’t bad either considering the fact that I did Accounts on my own the whole year round. I needed tuitions badly but I didn’t join any because I wanted to concentrate on subjects that were my strong point. Initially I did feel a bit low but hey, guess what? It’s my b’day today! Nothing could keep me down for long. Not when my parents got me THIS :

Every B’day I’d demand art supplies but this time I’m glad I picked something worth my time(not that art isn’t). Yes, it’s still hard for me to comprehend classics but it’s definitely not a waste of my time.

Coming down to the purpose behind this post, I’d advice students who just received their results like me to not fret over the past. Accept it & get over it. If moving on seems difficult, read a book, watch your favorite movie or simply flip through old pictures of your school days.

I’m sure there’s just enough room for you to grow academically & personally in the coming future.

Have a nice day!