Overall, the Indian average gender ratio is far behind the global average of 984 for every 1,000 men, and is the second lowest in the world, before China. Practices like sex selective abortion, female infanticide, dowry are still very prevalent. And the societal prejudices are ingrained ! Girls are often asked to play second fiddle to their brothers and not given equal opportunities as their brothers. This poem is dedicated to those women who face and overcome such gender related barriers each day. #thenomadicpoetess
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Data source : 2011 india gov census data
We step in silence, goodbye, safe distance –
You swallow what’s left, like a fly swallowing champion,
Step into it like honey-waves, with sunlight shining,
Like it were happy to meet you. -----
I step the distance, it takes to be haunted
Like it were sticky vinegar,
The last fly on the wall,
Stuck in fragmented moments,
In a city, blinking,
With bottled water
For everyone’s convenience
No soda spills
No way to reach you
They’re tearing down phone booths
From here to the everglades
And the sun spitting itself tired,
The night has come
Wrote you away,
i don't mean a thing,
but wilting nights
you left behind
----- You’re the phone booth, without any room left, for someone to leave their fingerprint, without smudging someone else’s, full of coins with indiscretions.
Time to go home
One last cigarette
And I can’t top wondering,
What you’re thinking
When the lights, dim,
Telephone wires, an electric, orchestra.
There’s a bitter tasting reality, coming.
I didn’t mean a thing. --------------------------------------------------------------
That’s your name
And if you were an other name
You’d still be the tragedy that took the city out, like a tidal wave, smiling, and the world dying
Beers are gone
Birds flew away
This all has to mean something
But you and I both know, it didn’t mean a thing
Wish I got to know you sooner
I wish I didn’t mistake those hands for strings , while I watched your gently stirring the moon wild,
I didn’t mean a thing. ------------------------------------------------
There’s quick-witted glances,
That easily linger gone
You said I was a rose by any other name,
Now a wilting dust pile, from a torpedo strike,
You are my storm, with your name,
No other name,
"Heart it is, not a brick or stone
Why shouldn't it feel the pain?
Let none tyrannize this heart
Or I shall cry again and again
Neither the temple, nor the mosque
Nor on someone's door or porch
I await on the path where He will tread
Why others should compel me to go?
The illumined grace that lights up the heart
And glows like the midday sun
That Self that annihilates all sights
When then it hides in the mysterious net?
The amorous glance is the deadly dagger
And the arrows of emotions are fatal
Your image may be equally powerful
Why should it appear before you?
The rules of life and bonds of sorrow
In reality are the one manifestation
Before realizing the ultimate truth
How can then one attain liberation?
Love is laden with noble thoughts
Yet what remains is the carnal shame
Trust conscience the still little voice
Why do you want test the rival?
There the pride of modesty resides
Here dwells the social morality
How shall we meet, on which road
Why should he invite me to the abode?
True he is an atheist
Unfaithful and unchaste
Dear to who is faith and heart
Why should he then venture there?
Without the wretched 'Ghalib'
Has any activity come to a halt?
What then is the need to cry?
What then is the need to brood?"
~Mirza Ghalib. [Translation]
#Kashmir#srinagar#city#bw#vzcomood#vscocam#click_vision#indiapictures#desidiaries#writing#poetry#indiaphotoproject @indiaphotoproject #iphone7#poets#writers#potd @captivatingkashmir @visit_kashmir @kashmirloversofficial #trip#nature#windows#Ghalib#mirzaghalib#urdu
A man is up late,
The ear buds to his ears just doesn't resonate,
His mind is in a different state,
A living nightmare he most definitely hates,
That of, being used as toy by his soul mate,
How does one even look to the eyes of another date,
To a man who's hearts been shattered that only increases his heart rate,
It's hard to concentrate,
It's hard to fluctuate,
It's hard to tolerate,
When he opens one's water gate,
To only suffocate