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Women are different in many ways, yet bound to a web of patriarchy. They knit dreams and rise again like a valiant warrior after every fall. Here’s is a poem by Samrudhi dedicated to women, in Different Truths.

High atop my terrace
I inhale the fragrance of the morning blossoms
Effervescent dewdrops moistening my long brown tresses
Closing eyes to the languid palpable serenity of dawn
I let the mind take its own course, afloat in limbo
As clouds amass to swell and burst open in a song for the parched land
I let the first drizzles embrace me like an over-sized cardigan
In mere moments, the soil laughs out in joy
No longer cracked, caking, dry
Even I am drenched to the bone
Clothes sticking to my body
Flesh quick to erupt in goose bumps
In a momentary thrill of excitement,
I jump upon a small puddle of rain
As I am reminded of childhood and paper-boats

Life has taken many a meandering course
And today where I stand wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be
But then time and destiny have taken me places
Shown me the world through the lenses of experience
It’s been a queer mixture of sad days and glad days
I have seen, borne and lived through it all
In a mere quarter of a century
I’ve witnessed many new tidings of life
Besides the gross anomalies left by trails of demise

And I have loved too, unconditionally
Only to have found everything slipping through my fingers like fine sand…
And now those petrichor dreams so meticulously knitted,
In those glorious teenage days
When even the impossible had seemed one brilliant venture
Hope spilling from every orifice
When I was blissfully unaware of the pin-pricks of reality checks
Cocooned in an aura of blatant optimism

Today
The tapestry stands tattered, dusty
Mangled remains of a past that still returns to haunt me, time and again
Painfully aware that I have never been anywhere near perfect
I view my sodden frame in the cracked mirror
Musing over emotions churning into tears
That hover unshed behind the lashes
I know I am too tired,
It has been a long day
And I want a superannuation…

But again, with the practiced trait of a workaholic,
I gather my pens, parchments and scribbles in hand,
And seek refuge at my desk in yet another unsuccessful attempt
To perhaps relive those petrichor dreams…

©Samrudhi Dash

Photos from the internet.

#Poem #Patriarchy #WomenWarriors #LifeOfWomen #DifferentTruths

 


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