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The story of a woman’s fight for freedom from oppression and the shackles of abuse in matrimony.
I fled; I ascended towards the light, I rose Higher and higher to flee the life I chose I spied a stairway, a bridge to freedom I latched onto it, I took a decision random.
For to me, it was a beacon in my stormy night Something that brought hope and liberty in sight I left behind the bleeding crimson of my days I clambered up, forgetting old paths and ways.
Chased by the demons of my granite past I climbed towards the aura, the beacon cast Tipping my head and breathing in a pledge To step by step ascend, sans past suffrage
Yes, finally I left behind my pain and sorrow Hopeful I snuck a look ahead at the morrow It beckoned to me arms outstretched at dawn I realized I had won, was no longer his pawn.
Author’s note – My poem is the story of a woman’s fight for freedom from oppression and the shackles of abuse in matrimony.
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Sonal is a multiple award winning blogger and writer and the founder of a women-centric manpower search firm - www.rianplacements.com. Her first book, a volume of poetry - Islands in the stream - is slated read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
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