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Friday, March 16, 2007

Chp 113. A poem for women

Mistake – A Poem. 

Winter dark red skies, on the distant Horizon,
A Mizo version of, the Aurora borealis.
Rendering a clear view, of the mighty Orion,
T’was a night full of, romance and bliss.

Sangi cuddled intimately, in her lover’s arms,
All alone with him, at the peak of Beraw.
Oh he was so chivalrous, filled with charm!
And she was an Angel, the Queen of Cheraw.

Together they made, such an amazing pair,
Like two fiery lovebirds, flying on a mission.
And then his hands strayed, down her silky hair,
Sangi sighed, but protest turned to submission…

The next half an hour, was quick and rough,
Sangi neither enjoyed, nor felt any pleasure.
But she couldn’t say no, to the man she loved,
To her it was commitment; to him, leisure.

But after that day, things abruptly changed,
Sangi and he, would consistently fight.
Every time she called, his phone was engaged,
Still she tried to fix things, with all her might.

Soon enough he found, somebody else to adore,
And Sangi was left alone, detested by others.
She couldn’t lead the life, she had led before,
For she had now become, an unwed mother…

Dedicated to all the nuthlawis (single mothers) out there, who are still paying the price for a mistake they committed a long time ago, who courageously faced Society’s “evil eye” and braved through the thick and thin all by themselves, who knows the true meaning of Life and rather bring up a child all alone than put it to a cruel death… in my books, you are my number one heroes, the real unsung heroes of our Mizo society. God bless you, women, and keep the faith.

You're not alone – A conclusion. 

Sangi led a lonely life, in solitude and seclusion,
Her friends she lost, her happiness she faked.
She longed to be free, she wanted a diversion,
But her life must change, for her baby’s sake.

Gone are the days, of uncontrolled laughter,
Her tears only increases, her anger it fuels.
Her father is mortified, to call her his daughter,
He became the butt, of Society’s ridicules.

But still she held on, doting her protruding belly,
For how could she kill, a living soul no less?
She braved all criticisms, she was called unholy,
She prayed to God, for strength and forgiveness.

It’s not funny or easy, if you are the victim,
With freedom at one hand, and life at the other.
T’is so easy to snip, and kill the holy Seraphim,
Death of an Angel, rather than become a mother?

Be strong, be steadfast, oh women of Mizoram,
For the Glory days of our Lord, is coming soon.
He will take your child, and protect it from harm,
From all the hypocrites, under the sun or moon.


Hmai said...

i love it!!!! sawn kan pai ve nghe2 tengs :P

mnowluck said...

I love your poem. Touching!!!

Anonymous said...

Hey Ill,
What's your muse...cause its definitely dishing out some fine lines. Although...the last line of the second half jolted me out of the rhythm i had settled into. Ascetic constrictions definitely make loud statements amidst sanctimonious religiosity but to collapse ethics into a religious vision/hope, even though interrelated, would oversimplify the hope/vision. Ive wondered why a nuthlawi bears the stigma till her grave while someone indicted for corrupt practices can continue with impunity..even use the religious structures to launder the load of accusations. Are we inversing the message of the Kingdom when we make it more difficult for the camel to pass through the needle's eye? The social reality underlying that vision of the Kingdom is beautiful and pulsating with hope, life, justice, righteousness and peace. Take a look around...havent we seemed to have lost this vision but with also the possibility of regaining it? As dry as it may sound...yours Erato-ically!

Almostunreal said...

men- root of all trouble

Mizohican said...

@ myself: Hetssss! :-)

@ mnwluck: Thanx bro.

@ Almost: Like I always said, it takes two to tango :-)

@ kima: Thats what the last para is about actually. Many people with Holier-than-thou attitudes sanctimoniously look down upon our nuthlawis even using the Bible as a weapon, when they themselves have sinned just like the rest of us. Infact, one thing I have observed is that, the really slutty women are the ones who always go for an abortion, hence never become a nuthlawi. These women are hence free from the stigma of being called immoral or sexually promiscuous, whereas, a woman who made a genuine mistake once or twice (we are all Humans, fallible) and later decided to keep the child, is branded as a social outcast... thats why this post is in salutation to such women. Another thing that was on my mind while penning out this poem was the preciousness of Life, and the ultimate sin of abortion...

mnowluck said...

@almost-unreal:Women-root of bankruptcy. :))

@illusionaire: Nice answer to bteii's comment

Anonymous said...

once again you hit the ... i'm with you.. why did only women gets the evils talk behind them.. men are as much responsible as women.. coz we know very clear that it needs two to make a living thing...

Mizohican said...

@ anonymous: Its a social problem my friend. However, I think our community is relatively much better when compared to other societies.

Just today we were having a discussion. In our society, to be a "tlangval fel" one must not drink or smoke. Thats pretty much it. But to be a "nula fel", she must be a homely girl, abstain from tobacco, be helpful, wash clothes, cook food etc. Its not exactly fair you know...

Almostunreal said...



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