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This thought-provoking and deeply moving poem explores women's rage and the reasons behind it. Are women justified in expressing their rage?
Rage, rage, go away
Come back another day
Take a deep breath
Get some rest
Pretend it’ll all go away
The hand that touched your breast
Not at your behest
Think of it as play
Rage, rage go away
His demand for food
Closed fist to show his mood
It’s just part of the day
You’re a harlot, a whore
For demanding what’s yours
No right to have a say
The boss grazes your thigh
While avoiding your eye
And the office looks the other way
Rage don’t ever go away
Never wait for another day
Take a go at it all
Make them heed your call
Wait not before slapping it away
Image creadit: Noah Buscher on Unsplash
I'm an alumnus of Indian Institute of Management, Bangalore and now a published author. My first novel, Cloud 9 Minus One, was published by HarperCollins India in 2009. read more...
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We say that we live in modern times and talk on subjects like feminism, supporting your loved ones, encouraging them to follow their dreams. But how many of us can really say that they actually do that?
We live in a world where there comes times in everyone’s life when one has to make choices which will leave a long term impact in not just their life but on the lives of those attached to them.
Giving the ones you claim to love the freedom and space to make their own choices and the wings to fly is not only the right thing to do but sometimes its also the thing they need the most; without having to face the ‘guilt’ of living the life they want.
She would serve everyone fresh food and serve herself the stale rice and curries from the previous meal. Some days after finishing the leftovers she was so full she would not even be able to even taste the fresh food.
When I married the first time, my MIL told me that during the Navratri the lady of the house should not eat stale food. ‘Gharatlya bai ni shila khau naye’ — in refined upper caste Marathi.
I was just 26, eager to please, not versed in patriarchy or feminism, and it seemed like a positive thing — respect for the goddess in woman.
But soon I realised she spent the remaining 356 days of her year finishing leftovers. And that I was expected to do the same.