ANGRY YOUNG WOMAN / A collaborative poem by Nutan Sarawagi and K. Radhakrishnan

 
ANGRY YOUNG WOMAN
A collaborative poem by Nutan Sarawagi and K. Radhakrishnan
 
 
 
RADHAKRISHNAN:-
 
He looked at her, his eyes twin dots of anger,
But she already raised battlefield clangor,
Her immunity level to anger was low this day,
Temper rose as the mercury of May.
 
For days, she was emotionally constipated,
Needed to get her mind evacuated,
No more a shrill, hysterical tantrum thrower,
She is now a wartime buggle blower.
 
No more patriarchal idea of muted rage,
She bottled up her fury, age after age,
Not just to seethe with rage but to explode,
And empty some of their emotional overload.
 
Flared up temper not be escape of emotion,
Let it roar like a tigress to cause commotion,
For a change, prototype nice girls be crass,
Blast barriers they are not supposed to cross.
 
Beat up a rapist boss black and blue,
Don’t cry years later saying ” ME TOO”
If you want “cool” girls, try dating in mortuary,
Being an angry women is just a necessity.
 
 
 
 
NUTAN:-
 
I am not angry I am just sad at the way
Life takes us in a love never had
 
Through difficulties
in roads surpassed
in paths n terrains
never trespassed
in a life so difficult
to bear and pass
just to live ..feeling in it never bad
To be looked at ..as if I was bereft of feelings
unclad in it to be their fad
in their fun to be frolicked away to be ridiculed
to be just an add
 
fulfilling demands of people just mad
for in them lives a part of me so tad
never fulfilling myself
in needs never had
just for myself
is it too much to ask
You brat
for when I live it’s for my own self
not yours you cad
sorry to say even though I may sound crass
in you to encash
My life to bash
As your trash
no more to lash
in you to stash
as your dead living ash
…snatched
 
Your sacrificial goat to be forever taken in
slashed
Struck down by spears
in feelings never spared
 
In graves broken open in sculpted tombs
In wombs that cry in unfair wounds
A child borne in its borrowed doom
In sorrows to flow in it never to bloom
In flames burning in it to fume
In pyres blazing in it to loom
that fly brazen unscathed
 
Like a woman scorned
Swallowed in
by the barren earth
Fallen in
bare clad
 
@Copyright- Nutan Sarawagi and K Radhakrishnan

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s