Thursday, February 23, 2017

To marry or NOT to marry

I tell you, I am yet to meet a person as much worried about my marriage as my landlady. Others have generally asked about my marriage plans but she has been the persistent one; insisting that I should marry: the sooner the better.

The first time she showed her concern was just after I had returned from Pondicherry, India; fresh out of University in 2014.

‘You should marry, Smiti,’ she had stressed, ‘It’s the right time.’

Even after two decades of being her tenant she is yet to say my name, correctly. Sometimes I am Asmita, sometimes Smiti, and sometimes even Smriti; but never Smita. Nevertheless, she has constantly shown her concerns for me about ‘not getting married’.

Okay, I acknowledge that it was a genuine suggestion. Not very difficult to understand for a girl who has been brought up in Nepali society. A society where as soon as you are born, you do not belong to the family you are born to. While growing up, you are always reminded that your true home is somewhere else. Nobody knows where, but it is there. It is revealed only after marriage.

It also seems to me that before the family realises the girl of the house has reached the marriageable age, it’s the neighbours who notice it. They carry the burden of telling the girl and the family about the ‘right time’ for her marriage. So, while my neighbour (in this case, my lanlady!) was fulfilling that duty, I had stood there, on the threshold of a half-opened door, sweating from my unfinished mopping of the house.

It infuriated me that before my family had even suggested the ‘right time’, I was lectured too by her. But being a polite person, I had shut the door, softly, on her face. However, this event has not deterred her from suggesting time and again “studying is okay, but marriage should be done in time”.

So, it should come as no surprise that I take a lot of precautions to avoid her, like I do from things I am allergic to! But, with no negative feelings, I take her suggestions to do with keeping up with socio-cultural practices and biological ticking of my womb - very typical and common reasons used to convince women for marriage. This conviction is so used that now it is understood without telling. Hence, I was obviously shocked when my decision to not marry (at present) made my male colleague fire a question at me: “Are you a feminist?” followed by advice, “talking and writing about women’s rights is okay, but don’t be like those extremist women hai!”. He had asked the question with such an accusing tone that it not only shocked me, but also confused me. I could not understand such a prejudiced tone from a journalist who has been working in one of the top media houses of the country for more than a decade. But most of all, it had never crossed my mind that me not getting married could mean being tagged as a feminist and the other stereotypes attached to feminism.

I wish this was an isolated event, but it is repeated again and again. Similar questions, similar tones and accusations. Only the faces change. Most of the time, these faces manage to leave deep psychological and emotional bruises that a patriarchal society refuses to notice.

And yet, there are amusing sides to it. Out of nowhere, once a while I get “You are not a lesbian, are you?”. I always answer, “I would love to be! But, what do you think?”. The conversation that ensues generally ends up revealing the face of another homophobic.

So, you see staying unmarried for a woman has its side effects. You are harassed with unwanted suggestions regarding the ‘importance of marriage in your life’, stigmatised for being a feminist, and even questioned about your sexual orientation. Funnily, these are the same people who question why we have child marriages in the country? Shouldn’t it be obvious? When girls are taught that only after marriage will their ‘real home where they belong’ be revealed; taught to see marriage as an achievement; and when 25 percent of child marriages are by a girl’s decision and the trend is growing. They berate those women who speak of equality and gender justice, harass those who don’t take marriage as a priority, stereotype those who don’t laugh at sexist jokes and tag as extremists or not womanly enough, those who speak their minds. And, they dare to ask such stupid questions.

The women who do not marry – at the ‘right time’ or with the ‘right gender’ – become such a challenge to the society. We are feared because we are skeptic; we question established notions; we don’t follow the rules that define gender behaviours and roles. We become different and defiant and hence stigmatised as being a feminist. But, what a badge of honour it is to be a feminist.

FOR REFERENCES:

[This blog post was selected by UN WOMEN Asia and the Pacific for 16 Days of Activism for gender equality - Youth's Voice from Asia-Pacific - and was published on 21 November, 2016 @ http://asiapacific.unwomen.org/en/news-and-events/in-focus/youth-voice/smita-magar#sthash.7LlJCo6o.dpuf ]

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

How to love a Woman?



Mother,
you never taught me
how to love a woman.
and so
I never loved
the woman in me.

from early on
you taught me
to be prim and proper
to wait for the knight in the shining armour

you told me,
my journey to a man's heart
was always through his stomach.
you trained me,
a table spoon of salt
stays a table spoon of salt.

so, i never knew
what journey should i be taking
to reach a woman's heart.

now,
unprepared; untrained
when each morning
i wake up to find the woman
lying next to me,
unresponsive; lifeless
i do not know how to wake her up. 

so, we find ourselves in a hospital
battered and bruised. 
sometimes it is our body.
sometimes it is our soul.

But mother,
how do I fix? 
a broken wing,
a broken heart of a woman
because, 
you never taught me
how to love a woman
so, I never knew
how to love a woman in me. 


[PC:  'Why you aren't you' by Queen Enigma : http://spellboundmisfits.deviantart.com/art/why-you-aren-t-you-259616112?q=sort%3Atime+gallery%3ASpellboundMisfits&qo=313]

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

CHAIR.


[Pic: Kim Na Youn, South Korea]


Please.
Come.
Sit with me.
I have warmth of a Winter,
And chill of a Summer.

They were left behind,
By some.
When arrows became confusing
When green or red
were disturbing;

They sat with me.

Some were warm
Some were cold
Some left as Autumn passed
Some stayed till Spring had.

But,
They sat with me.
For a while.

Waiting.

Till it was time.

You too,
Please.
Come sit with me.

We can wait, 
together.
Whether for a Spring
Or it's for a Winter.


[Note: While 2016 has been a year of horror in many sense; it had some beautiful moments too. One of those rare moments for me was being introduced to NY Kim's photography. Her pictures made me write poems. So, this poem, CHAIR is based on her picture posted herewith. Check out NY's pictures at https://www.instagram.com/heasongsong/. You will get treat from her once in a month or so.]  

Saturday, July 16, 2016

Shadow and the Sun.


                                                                                PC: Gary Wornell

Tell me a story.

my dear shadow

Do you crave

for the sun

As much as I do for her?

And, when you do

do you know

Exactly,

how to print

the shape, the size

and the colour of your heart?

Saturday, June 18, 2016

rain.

lately,
there has been constant rain
and
it tastes salty.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Let There Be Books!


This year, I wish it to be a year of book - meaning - a year of learning, a year of reading and a year of feeling good.
For that, I hope the bookshops will open even during Saturdays, even during public holidays. And soon, a bookshop which opens 24 hours.

Amen!

Also, this year will be about libraries. Different types of libraries. I will make a map of these libraries. And keep them closer to my heart.
These libraries could be personal, these libraries could be private. But, I will make it a habit of visiting them and keep a journal on them.

Amen!

More to it, I will join the Reading Groups, if there are any. If not, I will form a group where we discuss about books and more books.

Amen!

Saturday, November 14, 2015

to the soldier. (II)


the sweaty warmth
on my naked back
wakes me up
satisfied but thirsty.
He has covered me like a blanket.
legs intertwined with mine
He has fixed himself as a question mark,
Exerting his muscles
Covering my edges
and spaces
Filling my depths 
and gorges.
His left hand holds me to his chest
as gentle as water bubble
cupping my breast.
But
The right hand fingers 
that 
traced the tip of my hair
to the tip of my toe nail
waking me to multiple wants
and desires
are now
balled up in a fist.
as if he is ready
(like a lion of Sahara)
To spring at any moment.
is it the sands our legs carried
that are spread like grains
on the creased and crinkled 
white canvas we are painted on
that puts him on guard?
Reminding him.
of the far far land
of sun and sand
of blood and sweat
of bomb and bullet.
I turn and face him.
I trace his scars and cuts.
they are everywhere.
on his lips.
on his chest.
on his feet.
I kiss each of them.
He sighs and smiles in his sleep
He turns and twists
fixes himself like a blanket over me.
Again.

But, his fingers don't relax.
As always.
He sleeps fitfully.