And I Was Married

Two yards to sleep.
Two chapatis to eat.
This is what I needed.
Still, I was married. 
 
Helpless and hopeless,
another woman’s life continued. 
You remained silent father. 
And, I was married. 
 
An opportunity 
to rewrite fate of woman 
was lost my mother. 
And, I was married. 
 
Forced to drop out of school,
coerced to let go dreams. 
My fate was never mine. 
And, I was married.  
 
I said so many times, 
‘No, I don’t’. 
They said, “Girls don’t have choice’. 
And, I was married. 
 
My life is no more mine. 
My dream family, dream love 
Definition died within me.  
And, I was married. 
 
I wanted to be all I could be. 
My heart bleeds in pain. 
My wings were clipped. 
And, I was married.  
 
Born lucky. 
Considered someone’s wealth.
propelled in unknown territory. 
And, I was married  
 
No ‘wonders’ I saw. 
No plunders, no blows.
Chains bestowed. 
And, I was married. 
 
Will there be an end 
to child marriages my government. 
Silent responses 
And I was married.  
 
Daughters-in-law,  
In India they rarely study. 
I miss school, freedom, friends. 
And, I was married. 
 
My body was not ready 
I saw my children die 
Living with that guilt, I still wonder 
Why, I was married. 
 
My life has single agenda 
I will give birth to a daughter
She will live her childhood, youth
And decide, when to get married. 

© Kumar Gautam 
 
 
 

A letter to a mother from her daughter

You remember mom;

little sunshine, one moon,

few stars, a butterfly and few flowers

This was all I wanted in life

When I was a child.

And you just wanted me to be

smart and intelligent.

 

Here I am,

Classified thoughtful and logical

Acute and ingenious

though on the verge of loosing my innocence

willingly, unwillingly.

 

You always said

I resemble sun

will reach far and wide.

I may have sprinkled yellow dust

brought hope and smile

but look I have lost my might

that I called me.

 

In your world it was so simple

The way to happy life was contentment.

Why the world is so hard on people

who wish to fly.

Why it is difficult to get right things done right way.

Why doesn’t mind minds to move on

when there’s a stalemate.

 

I wish I could comeback mom to that very state

when life meant a ‘sweet home’ painting.

Food meant your hands fed whatever thing.

Dreams meant movies while sleeping.

When tears rolled, I got chocolates

smile and breath were always in sync.

 

Mom, can I attain nirvana in your lap.

Renounce it all for your smile.

Freeze to be warmed by you till eternity.

Mortify, for the gods to notice that

you are the only spirit to be called holy.  

 

© Kumar Gautam

Photo source: 500px Photo ID: 78158693

Don’t Murder Me Mother

STOP!

Don’t murder me, mother.

Let me come into the world.

 

Grace me!

Don’t let this thought take over your mind,

you are caught in between wrong and right.

A woman is ripped and caged,

for all acts of men she pays.

Men subjugate, society rapes.

Lifetime she is controlled and oppressed.

Still! Don’t murder me, mother.

Let me come into the world.

 

Let me live this beautiful life.

If you are besides, I will more than survive.

We will together light up flames of our lives.

You are a woman, a creator.

In you is a goddess, identify her.

Once you were also a foetus,

just remember.

Stop! Don’t murder me, mother.

Let me come into the world.

 

Think for a moment,

just envision a mother-daughter movement.

Fun, joy and much of playfulness.

Imagine, how incomplete would be family album

in my absence.

Won’t my brother miss me,

when you all will celebrate Rakhi* and Bhaiduj**.

And oh! the fun during my marriage celebrations,

you are certainly going to miss it.

Stop! Don’t murder me, mother.

Let me come into the world.

 

World can be foolish,

but not mothers.

Human life can’t survive without daughters.

The time has come for motherland India to shine.

Positivity in you will set tone of time.

Picture this,

I am in your hands, smiling at you.

You looking into my eyes,

we exchange love.

Stop! Don’t murder me, mother.

Let me come into the world.

 

© Kumar Gautam

Photo source: suvarnasable.blogspot.in

*Rakhi: An Indian festival celebrating brother-sister bond and relationship, also known as Raksha Bandhan.

** Bhaiduj: An Indian festival celebrated by Hindus were in sisters pray for long and happy life of their brothers. Also known as Bhau-Beej, Bhai-Dooj, Bhai Tika 

Living Dead

Women and war

She is a war survivor,

yet she doesn’t consider herself fortunate.

She saw her family-friends killed,

she escaped the gory fate.

She hasn’t forgotten the war days,

its colours, its sound, its fears…

bang, and her people met one death.

She had died many deaths,

she will die many deaths,

memories kill her and tear.

 

Survival for her is a crime,

a victimless crime.

She is the victim, she is the criminal

and her soul meets several deaths.

She is proudly called a surviving hero,

she considers herself a living dead.

 

© Kumar Gautam

Hunger Games

Fortunate are those mothers

Who hand feed their toddlers

And are hand-fed by them when they get old.

How unfortunate I am

Me and my child suffered hunger pangs

Fought voraciously with destiny

Build hope in each others eyes

Dreamt better days

Reposed faith in God

And here he is lying in front of me

Baked skeleton, burnt skin, sunken eyes, malnourished

He is dead and I am alive.

 

Remaining empty stomach for days

When we were provided the food

I had forcefully fed him portions of mine

But little one had small stomach

He couldn’t consume more

He paid the price

He is dead & I am alive.

 

We both were born poor

Cursed

May be by God

For whatever reasons better known to it

We accepted the life

Smiled

Looked for ways to survive, yet

He is dead & I am alive.

 

Worse is I can’t even wail, weep or cry

Remain gloomy or mourn

This isn’t an odd event around.

Feelings are lost

Tears have dried

Emotions have turned inferior

Human life takes a birth here

As if to die

My son

He is dead & I am alive.

 

I have heard in stories

Ages back we were animals.

I still see animal within me, suppressed,

Eager to roar

It’s the conscience that keeps it calm

But I am yet to understand

What has changed?

Isn’t for us too ‘survival of fittest’.

What an irony, fit was my son

He is dead and I am alive.

 

His father

How hard he tried

He couldn’t feed us

Evenings he would hang his head in shame

One fine day he ran away

Fearing our death in front of his eyes

Little one was still in womb

I suggested gulping in herbs

People said I will face God’s wrath.

God couldn’t act worst

Now that my child is no more around

Who’s the criminal & who committed the crime?

My innocent little one

He is dead and I am alive.

 

I have heard from travellers

In far off land

There’s enough food that much goes in drain

I wish someday that drain

Flows through my village

Polluted, spoiled, wasteful doesn’t matter.

It will lease in life

Elixir

Make us human

Add in sympathy, empathy and compassion

Today there is no one to soothe

Even though my child hopped around all

He is dead and I am alive.

 

All I pray at this point of time

No more children die

Anywhere around

Children make Gods as they grow

So easily Gods die in front of our eyes

Don’t know how and in what ways

You can stop this undocumented crime

Let not the children die

Let not the blessed one’s die

Let not a mother ever sing for her infant child

He is dead and I am alive.

– Kumar Gautam