It is all up to YOU

Seventy! It is not just a number, you see. Rather this number marks the soul which is free. Free from being bullied, because I am brown. I was bullied by the white people, who has the Kohinoor on the Crown. I was not the only one though, to see the torture; because I myself heard my brother to murmur, the pain he was going through that day. How helpless I felt because I had nothing to say. We didn't forget the date when our bond got lost; till date, we are both, paying the cost. Well, I personally did achieve a lot. Till now I cry and wonder how my babies fought in Kargil and secured me from other fights, I still remember the formation of Constitutional Rights. I still remember how badly I got terrified, when the Emergency period got me petrified. My this very brown skin was crowned in Miss World and Miss Universe. I went to the moon and back, and also succeeded in touching the Mars. I suffocate all the time because of the pollutions  caused by the cars. T...

In my country I am treated so well, that there is not a single moment I thought of staying under the veil. Whenever I went to shop for my meal; they always offered the dual combo deal. But I didn't want the combo, rather something which would fit my diet. Diet that would make me look thin and smart; though that wasn't my real appetite. But I had to change my taste, because society taught me that is what is best; for me, for her and for all our fat ladies out there. Else people will talk for wearing dresses, which are partially bare. So, you see the amount of love that I get, and mind you, this is not body shaming. Because right from my childhood I have been taught that it is cute if someone is naming. Naming that hurts you the most, and makes you realise that beauty also comes with a cost. But what about Jane? My friend, who is insane, and is always busy buying cosmetics; because for her, it is more important to flaunt her aesthetics. Because witho...

I lost a friend of mine at the age of nine. A friend who was as if, carrying my blood. Still now my memories do flood with all the moments, penned down by us. He got lost, because of a single fuss. A fuss that started way back, when his parents heard him cry. Asked him to stop, on his very first day, because crying is not what he should try. His parents' belief that tears would make him weak, actually made him weaker instead. It didn't matter now if he got beaten up, or got sick; he still wouldn't cry, even if his face become red. No one actually said to him that crying wasn't bad, it's actually letting your emotions flow when you are sad. The mistake we made by not knowing what real feminism is, put up a huge burden of responsibilities on those little shoulders of his. The shoulders that cracked up, because of those huge responsibilities. Lying weak at night but standing strong in the morning, was one of his abilities. Or perhaps, that was the...

We don't always want someone who would always love. Sometimes we want some one to scold us, and hold our silly selves together. Someone who would guide us how to curve the path of our life without a fuss. And will catch us even when we are falling like a feather. They will give the blow of support.. Teach us how to fly.. My family, but he isn't my dad, she isn't my mother. Sometime their words are as sharp as a sword, especially when someone is rude and sly. Though not by being our parents, because she is my sister and he, my brother. They didn't give me birth.. But looked after me ever since.. Been there beside me with the promise of forever... With them, I didn't feel dearth of love, as they always rinse all the negativity and didn't let them come back again ever. Their promises were unsaid... They silently take care of my heart's province.. They make my dumb self clever... How kind that God really made them for me, since they rea...

নারী কোনটা বাড়ী তোর? বাপের টা, শ্বশুরের টা, নাকি বাজারের ওই মোড়? যেখানে চলে ছিলো তোর ধর্ষণ, সহ্য করে ছিলিস পৈশাচিক জোর, ছিড়ে ছিলো তোর মাংস পিন্ডগুলো কে; শুয়ে ছিলো গায়ের উপর। রক্ত যেখানে গড়িয়ে পড়ছিল যোনি থেকে তোর পায়ে, ভিড় থেকে কেউ হাত দিয়ে ছিলো,তোর ওই নগ্ন গায়ে। এখনো মা দূর্গার প্রতিমা যেখানে পায় স্থান, ঠিক সেখানেই না হয়ে ছিলো তোর ওই রক্তাক্ত স্নান? আজ পর্যন্ত মায়ের আরতি হয় যেখানে, চিবিয়ে ছিলো বুকটা তোর, সবাই কিন্তু সেখানে। কেউ দেখেছিলেন তোর যোনি কে হতে রক্তাক্ত, কেউ বা তোর সুডৌল স্তন দুটি কে, যদিও এরা ঠাকুরের  বড় ভক্ত। যেখানে হাঁটছিলিস খুড়িয়ে খুড়িয়ে, নিজের বস্র কুড়োতে, মায়ের ভোগ কিন্তু খাচ্ছিলো ওখানেই, পাড়ার সব বুড়োতে। যেখানে দূর্গা প্রতিমা দাঁড়ায় বুক চিতিয়ে, অসুরকে হারিয়ে, সেই বুক-ই ছিড়ে দিয়েছিলো অসুরেরা, চলে গিয়েছিলো এক দূর্গা কে মাড়িয়ে। তোদের আসলে কিছুই নেই, ওহ্ না আছে তো, যোনি, নিতম্ব, স্তন, কিন্তু সমাজের ব্যর্থতায় সেগুলো ও যে আজ আর তোদের নয়, সবই হয়ে দাঁড়িয়েছে আজ ধষর্কদের ধন। তাই না? ~ দেবজিৎ চক্রবর্তী

Hi, Ankita here. Will you please tolerate me for just two minutes, dear? It is because I just want to exchange some words with you. No, I do have friends, but they are really very few. Well, let me brief it down and start from the first, because I feel that's the only way to quench your thirst. Thirst that your eyes will be showing when I will start the conversation, and promise me that all the emotions you ran through, will get a definite mention. Okay, so it started two years back when winter hit  my state, and how coincidental is that, that was the same time vermilion hit my fate. Followed by some red splashes in between my thighs, or you can say in between my legs, well  everything does not go according to plan, doesn't matter how much a person begs. Yes, I did beg for love sometime, but did not force my husband when he showed disinterest. Then why he didn't repay me with the same gesture, when I too needed some rest? Yes, I know couples do fight som...

PERIOD! The word you do not want to hear, The blood you do not want to witness because of your fear, Is it only because it is coming out from the vagina? Or is it just because of the word BLOOD? Because if blood was the word responsible for your fear, you would not have leaned on to the girl, standing near. It is because, blood comes out of her body too, And that IS the same word that haunts you. Isn't it? How ironical is that you use the word Blood while cursing, And it is the same substance you may need, while someone will be nursing you because of the sheer lack of blood you may loose out of your vein, But even after knowing it is natural, you do not regret to sham a girl because of her stain. How sarcastic is it that kids now, can even smell misogyny around them, However for you, breaking a woman's hymen is not an act of shame. I wonder why not, because blood comes out of her bo dy at that time too, And it is the substance you are afraid of, ain...

I wonder how you make quadrants of my legs, as if they are your morning newspapers! But believe me, cheap comments and looks are not what it begs, then why do you measure my clothes, as if you are a draper? If I wear a skirt which covers my ankle, then I am matronly, and if above that length, then I am prude. I smile on those who does not even behave patronly, rather when we object, call us rude. Knee is the border which separates my sheen from my thigh, as if it is the India-Pakistan border which stands tall and high; creating difference between human beings carrying same blood, And here a picture of a dress above my knees, makes the comment box flood. Flood that bring waves of lusty comments. Just because I wear two inches short garments. Inches that you use to measure my breasts, Just like laughing on my bra and its straps, inside which it rests. If I cut few more inches from that imaginary border which you gave to us, you think that I am asking for it, an...