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.