The Eternal Plague

 Gender Inequality and the Misconstruement of Feminism is a disturbingly grave matter of the 21st Century.

In the Digital Age, some Internet-users seem determined to push the narrative that Feminism is a “man-hating ideology” and that Gender Inequality is a thing of the past. Feminism is about the complete equality of the sexes and the patriarchy harms everyone involved, the misunderstanding of these facts is disturbing. Championing to make the Internet a safe and tolerant space by spreading awareness is how we can combat this.

Gender Inequality still exists today, laced within our interactions and conversations. Inequality brings the “superior-inferior” dynamic, with that comes oppression, and that brings violence. By eradicating inequality, we eradicate suffering.

The first and foremost step to combat this, is by creating awareness and speaking up. It is something that requires no money or means, only a clear and brave conscience. I have always been foreword with my opinions and open to discourse. Calling out subtle comments ,“jokes”, or stereotype, was how I started. Soon I was labeled as ‘The Activist’ by my family but I didn’t bat an eye, if I raised awareness then it was worth it.

I firmly believe that doing something is better than doing nothing!

the tempest of time

The tempest of time rocked our tiny boat,

I ended up in the vast sea and you in a raft.

You didn't try to pull me up and so,

the gale of change lifts me away.

Sitting safe in your raft,

you have given up on me.

Desperate, deadly hope pulls me down,

for me the lights dim,

and all is black once and for all.

Hope it seems is like a rope,

use it to climb out of despair,

or maybe,

hang yourself with

friendly despair tying your noose.

Still sitting safe on your raft,

under starless, obsidian nights,

the tempest has quietened down,

but little do you know,

it now travels through a breeze.

The breeze of time ruffles your hair,

and makes a tiny hole in your raft,

the day may not be near but it will surely come,

your raft shall sink soon,

for the breeze of time, 

shall soon be your doom.

                ~

love,

sheersha

  

An Ode to Her

 

Picture of Sri Chamundeshwari Temple, Mysore

The Metamorphosis 🦋

Here I am,

A butterfly with brightly flushed wings,

fluttering away,

think I'm ready to fly and say my goodbyes,

but deep in me, 

in my silenced heart,

I crave for my caterpillar form,

and that leaf which I once called home.

They say a free body and a caged heart,

never made for a content soul.

But I, the butterfly would beg to differ:

I have my wings,

with which I can flutter across, 

and claim the clear blue sky.

I can drape my caged heart,

with a curtain of contentment,

when I see the vast, never-ending,

meadows of sweet nectar before myself.

But sometimes,

on silent, starless nights,

my heart creeps up on my mind,

and plunges it into an abyss,

a dark abyss of yearning,

what I will never have again:

I yearn for the community I had,

I yearn for the adventures of climbing huge plants,

I yearn for the time that was snatched from us!

when we entered those claustrophobic cocoons.

I cling to the good times of my caterpillar-self,

but even they have metamorphosed,

and beg to fly into what I dread:

a distant memory of my far away past.

But now,

when dawn breaks,

my heart and mind climb out of the abyss,

my heart creeps back into its little cage,

and my mind goes back to its place,

just as how it should be,

because who would want to witness,

my unleashed, impossible dreams.

So now and then,

you might see a tiny butterfly,

flying aimlessly around,

and you might hear a squeak

as tiny as her,

but know that tiny squeak

speaks a thousand words,

for that tiny squeak cries,

for her long lost caterpillar form

and a leaf which she once called home.

        

                     ~

love,

sheersha

Owls, Fritters and Summer

I awoke with a jerk and the screeching hiss of the train, after twelve gruesome hours I had finally reached my destination. I hastily gathered my luggage and got down on the lonely platform, the nauseous feeling in my throat that I usually experience after every train ride dissipated as soon as I inhaled the fresh air. I took out my phone to call my grandparents but to my dismay there was no network. Irritated and confused at my current predicament, I seated myself on a bench and tried to formulate what to do next. Suddenly something caught my eye, it was my grandfather on his dilapidated scooter. He parked his scooter and quickly rushed to my side and then came the tsunami of questions from my grandfather. I told him that I would answer the questions at home. He nodded his head in agreement and told me to get onto his scooter. I agreed but with a sense of uncertainty, for my grandfather’s scooter could break down at any given moment!

For the first time in five years I saw my grandparents’ house, it had not changed one bit. The grand bungalow with a stream meandering at its side, the orchard behind and all of this set in front of the majestic snow-capped mountains. It really was a picturesque sight. My grandmother rushed outside to greet me with the same tsunami of questions my grandfather greeted me with. She ushered me inside and showed me the room I always slept in when I came to their house. A large and airy room with beautiful bay windows, a comfy bed and a cozy reading nook, the perfect summer getaway.

The next morning my grandmother invited me to pick some apples and oranges from the orchard. Me, my grandmother and her house help Megha Didi walked towards the orchard. The breeze that blew made the trees rustle, butterflies fluttered around and bees buzzed around the vibrant flowers. While picking apples I spotted something that sparked nostalgia in me, it was a birdhouse but this was no ordinary bird house. I had made this bird house when I was six years old. The making of this birdhouse ignited my love for art and craft. The paint had chipped off a bit but it still looked charming. I peeked inside out of curiosity but to my surprise I found a white owl and two baby owls! They say that seeing a white owl is lucky, well then I had gotten lucky not once but thrice!

In the afternoon my grandfather and I visited the town market to get some groceries. Unlike the sleepy town the market was bustling with people. Customers bargaining with shopkeepers at every corner, chickens clucking , discussions of every kind and the smell of freshly fried fritters and tea at Raju’s Dhaba made my stomach grumble. My grandfather must have read my mind for he bought a plate of hot fritters and a cup of steaming tea. While eating I noticed how my grandfather knew practically everyone. Socializing here was much easier than in the city. After finishing my scrumptious snack we headed home. The Sun was beginning to set and the sky looked beautiful. It was as if someone had painted the sky with streaks of colours. The blue sky was fading, orange and yellow flushed the horizon, streaks of pink formed between the clouds and the Sun was reduced to a glowing ball prepared to go to sleep.

The next day I woke up early and decided to go for a ride on my bicycle. As I rode on the dirt road, I saw farmers ploughing the fields and fishermen fishing. Shepherds herding their sheep and goats and vegetable vendors heading towards the town carrying their heavy loads on their heads. Life here was simple yet fulfilling. I rode my bicycle till a viewpoint. It was absolutely spectacular! The raging blue river set in between the valley contrasted the dark green coniferous trees at its bank, flowers sprung from every nook and cranny and the chirping birds greeted the rising Sun. I sat there revelling in Nature for hours on end and marvelled at how God had created His own beautiful piece of Heaven on our mortal Earth.

love,

sheersha

Invisible

To not be seen

a terrible thought

To not be heard

a terrible thought

To not be touched

a terrible thought

 

But when I see 

myself

How can they 

not?

Why can they see

her?

The girl who 

laughs

The girl who signs

autographs

The girl who is an

idol teen

But really she remains

idle at fifteen

How can she be her 

father's daughter

When she struggles to

 keep her own head

above water

They say being invisible is

impossible.

Then how is it that all my 

experiences are

possible.

love,

sheersha

Merryville

Welcome to Merryville!

A small town upon a ginormous hill.

Hidden from greedy eyes a town so pristine.

The greenery there is oh so serene!

Oh but that is not the case for Mrs Bean!

A senescent lady august and lean.

Speaking about Mrs Bean you should meet Mr Bean,

The local baker who shall win your heart,

With his teensy-weensy scrumptious tarts.

If you want to have a savoury snack,

You should visit Mr and Mrs Tack.

They always keep a stack of sandwiches,

Which they hide from hungry and jarring witches.

Enough of food let us learn a lesson or two,

Let us go to the local school and meet Miss Sue.

A fine and well-read lady of unmatched beauty,

And a teacher who knows her duty.

Would you like to buy glass wares?

Then let us head to the town's square,

Where you shall meet Mr Barren,

And maybe be served some tea in his cozy cavern.

Your shoes look quite worn out,

But don't worry, we shall soon pay a visit to Mr Zach's hideout

He has the ideal shoe for every gentleman, lady and even the

kiddos too.

Could you wait I have too urgently use the loo?

I can see Miss Jane at a distance!

We can meet her, if we start running this instance.

She is the wise and honourable mayor of this town,

Serves everyone without a frown.

We are so fortunate to be all together.

Don't you agree Miss Amber?

She is the town's one and only seamstress,

Her intricate designs are one of a kind and her jokes hilarious.

We are so fortunate to be all together.

You should stay for the town's ball, 

It will be hosted in the opulent town hall.

It's a shame you have to go though,

But before you go, 

Don't forget to ask Mr Pierre the recipe for soft pizza dough. 

          ~A poem  by Sheersha Sarkar