An intense, woman-centric, protest poem, by Prof. Sanjoy, exclusively for Different Truths.

I am no birdie but an albatross
Spanning ocean depths. Those who come
Under my wings are kissed by the waves,
Their innards digest sharks and churn
Wisdom deep caves have bred.
I am the barren woman who gives birth
To women twisted and killed within
By those who promise the moon,
Shining in the dark depths of the sky,
And then offer it in a bowl of water.
I am the female Christ black to the bone
Tired of his passion; my life began with it.
I shall break the cruce, son of man;
Dance the dance of death at Calvary
And rise with my sisters at arms.
Glories of heaven are meant for those who give up
In the name of God. I will not turn my cheek.
God was a coward who wouldn’t send
His daughter down on earth for fear of rape.
I am the woman who will ascend to feminise heaven.
Never weep like Virgin Mary for her dead son
Curse God for daughters killed by believers.
It is because of him high priests of the world
Speak the language of the son.
My daughters your tongue is hidden in the shoe.
Walk up and strike, show them how it works.
Show them how beauty of the rose
Can grow thorns, make men bleed.
Followers of a several times married prophet
Have locked you inside a veil.
Break open and show how scars speak,
Give scars. Tooth for a tooth take.
You are the bullet in men’s guns.
Dogs have turned against their trainers,
They bite the hand that feeds its own food.
Revolutions have gone out of hand,
Misinterpreted prophecies are carried
Like mistletoe’s seed: burn them.
Parasites have made a sight of us:
With your body don’t feed them.
Faces of the ancient law givers
Have been stolen by their successors:
Unmask them. Let new radicals break
Out of books, mark new chapters.
Covers have been blinkers too long.
They have made a virtue of burning
At the husband’s pyre: rise phoenix,
Rise, and sharpen your beak.
The scores of histories are settled
Eye for an eye. Trial by fire
For a hapless secondary goddess.
The legend of Krishna is celebrated
At the expense of unprepared women.
Kali was made to exhaust her powers
At the sight of her husband.
For us, the Gods are no less
Than demons: they kill the authentic
Woman. Turn your leaves into spine
And thorns, bloom like cacti
In the arid deserts of men.
Break your shells and shine. Pearls!
For us there is no such thing as sublime.
Make the popes of the world grope,
On the earth, throw aerial roots
And plug the devious divine.
Remember! You are no birdie
But an albatross, under your wings
Floats the sea of humanity;
It shall rise to kiss your feet.
The waves are already with you.

Visual by Different Truths

Prof. Sanjoy Saksena

Prof. Sanjoy Saksena was educated at the Universities of Allahabad and Oxford where he was a Commonwealth student St. Catherine's College. Various academic errands and programmes have taken him to Switzerland, Italy, Germany, France and Sweden. He has published numerous papers/ chapters in various books and journals. He writes poetry also and dabbles in theatre. He has been the Warden of the Muir Hostel and at present he is Professor of English at the University of Allahabad.

See Full Bio