It wasn’t my fault that I was connected to your Waterlog like a destiny .
I scummed out with a scream yet to open my eyes stretched my yawn out to look straight into the world.
They picked me up with a grining smile, and I feard their piercing look
I never cherished my grandparents heart
And I am not my uncle’s sweetheart
I was born for my mom from heaven, beautiful but I actually was not called for.
It wasn’t my fault that my tears couldn’t cleanse their heart.
My fears were their laughter sessions. My failures were an achievement to their heart.
My weeps went unheard my scars went unattended as I was an unwanted child to them.
With all the flogging thoughts and bruises on my heart I was an unwanted girl who had a grieving past
It wasn’t my fault that I graved the harsh words of my aunts and crushed the sins of my cousins
I was the unwanted sister to their mind and framed me as a dreadful shadow to their life.
It was my fault that I turned out to be a GIRL who has shed thousands of times to find her own sky.
My tears of silenced article has been published by gulf news. My special thanks to gulf news for highlighting this article. Special thanks to my readers for supporting me.
If you are an adult who has experienced child abuse ,know that you are not alone. Every eight minutes a child is raped and sexually assaulted.93 % know the perpetrators. Many perpetrators are in the position of trust or relation. No matter what the abuse is, it’s not your fault it’s the outlook of the society who know the truth but never take an initiative to speak the truth out.
The rise in number of reported child rape and sexual abuse in India, is in a National Emergency. Number of protests have erupted across India after a series of child rape cases has been reported. A reports by right activists say 99% of the cases are unreported in India. The activists accuse the authorities of failing to protect the children from this crimes.
“Each time the child is raped India’s soul is raped” it’s our national duty to protect these innocent souls. India is slowly sliding towards the collapse of humanity after the rape of a eight year old girl from Muslim community was brutally raped. Huge protest spread across the country which later turned out to be a religion battling ground for protesters.
Delay in investigation and pending cases give rise to lack of security and protection of women and children in society. This battle for innocent souls is likely to get more voilent due to lack of reformation in legal systems.
It is upto Indians to fight against heinous crimes and stop our country from degenerating of its political and civic duties.
Blogger and a writer.
Yet another day has passed ,the clock sticks 12 midnight ,she gazes through her windows and sneak into inky canopy sky with freckles of sparkles shimmering with all its mighty. she turned towards the pale yellow calender and crossed out the day and minutes counted.
She sits at the edge of her bed and stares at the screen her jaw tightened up and eyes flutter high she imagine me holding me in her arms.
She kills her lungs with each passing day ,drowning her sorrows with several shots of despire. Thinking of her past a smile on her lips and shadows of happiness flows from her memories.
Her eyes rain like they always do ,her terrible love has slowly slipped into wait. Coughing out her pain after climbing the mountains of agony; Whispering my name in her invisible dreams, her eyes have been sweating thinking about the touch spining across her skin.
She says the hardest part of the day is bedtime,clawing in her bedsheets when she screams my name inside.I always stay in her head, were I am cocained with the unspoken words she left behind.
She waits for the day were she can clutch my hands, smooth down my hairs,brush my shoulders with a bold smile.
She waits to Feel my soft cheeks with oils perfumed with butter and musk.
She spends her day staring at all the pictures. Rewinding all those memories in her brains.
She wishes all those video chats never ended ,late midnigt talks never ended.
Yet she waits for another day were she can imagine her arms as mine.
She gazes at the door for a knock ,a voice telling me that i am home.she waits for an another cold breezed dec ember worth to remember.
Wayan Dyer once said “how people treat you is their karma and how you react is yours” I met a girl in streets who has wide eyes and different hair dyes ,she had many demons in her eyes,
What stunned me was her rumbling words which said “you can’t hide from cycle of karma” being a youngster I had come across many dialects from by pals who has aggressive way of using words ‘Karma is a bitch’.When nothing works for them these words work as a antidote to their wounds.
We just try to defend our hearts with a corrupt shield thinking maybe karma can be a answer. But instead it swallows all of us.
We believe that, we all have two sides where one believes in destiny and the others sticks to Karma, but in actual it’s the destiny that brings karma into your menu; you get served what you deserve.
It would seem like everything is back into place but the ropes of disgrace starts to burn under your skin that’s were you realise you are drowning under your own karma.
Believe in your thoughts and views and don’t let others thoughts destroy your inner peace. Be kind to all ,as a reflection of your character. If you do good then just sit back and leave it to Karma. Karma has no generation, Itz one for all.
Hardest part of human mind is we think we have a lot of time; Time is the bitter truth of Karma if your deeds are good, time changes.
Karma is just like a girl who is surrender us with a blunt blades and ends it with a smile of shame.
#I saw Karma#
“There lay my silk cotton stuffed pillow”were I stuff my tiery and worn head; it feels strange to stay awake upon it .I lace my fingers on the pillow moving my eyelids in a random motions thinking about the nightmare which have not yet happened.
Somewere,I realised my pillows know my pain they have consumed my regression and anger at dark nights.
My pillows are left stained from tears I have cried, I blame myself for clinging on to a cotton piece to wash my pain, they know my secrets,they have drowned all my tears. I have damaged their ears with my loud cries. They are my cradle and support my spine.
I respect my pillow because they capture all my whispers, they catch all my fantasies .I rise in the morning with a strenght to overcome all the terrible thoughts which make me restless.
I swallow my long running hectic day only to rest my head against my pillow. They are a gift to my eyes who drink my quenching thirst.
My pillow echoes soft and lingering memories ,faintly entangled in woven linens all the shy confession and intoxicating words are left between those sheets
In the strained sheets and swollen absence there lays my pillow which has final wittness of all wrong words said.
Girl of silver moon
She is a virgin Hunter of wild empire
Strong enough to save the chastity
Bold enough to hunt the moon
Diana of splendid past, arrows are her only pride
Her sacred hallows are deep enough to seep divinity
A survivor of dark ,an immortal goddess
Lost in her kingdom ,creeps in her soul
Feeling abandoned in deep dark greenery finding for her Apollo to meet him with her bow.