To write what you think,
To express with your voice without hesitation, an invisible ink.
The privilege of education should be a goddamn right.
Will hope eclipse the faith? Will it fight?
Not just cook, clean, and the kitchen sink
Think beyond that. We are far too much for just the color pink.
She raises, India shines
So polished a phrase for the streamlines.
If you believe in her growth, her stability, her dignity as her control,
Then why the hell is male-preference primogeniture still in the role?
You worship goddess Saraswati for knowledge, for wisdom,
Yet women are still fighting, still protesting, for primary education.
A country where Maa Kamakhya is sacred worshipped as pure,
Yet a period is taboo
The only blood not born of violence,
Still called impure.
You call women weak. Emotional.
Then name me a man who’s burned in Johar or jumped in sati.
Name me a man killed over dowry, raped, molested
Yet it’s always the victim society blames,
Not the guilty,
Who should’ve died out of shame?
She raises, and India shines.
I agree. I do agree.
She needs to rise to be Durga, to be Kali,
To be an individual of her own.
Not dependent.
Not respected only as a mother, sister, daughter, niece
Not needing a male name to claim dignity,
But to be respected.
To be dignified.
For the identity of her own.
When They Say, “But Women Have Reservations…”
And if someone argues
What about women’s reservations?
In metros, in Parliament, in buses and trains
Tell them:
Why does the phrase "Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao"
even exist,
And why is it still mandatory to scream it out loud?
Why is it still a slogan,
if we’re already equal and proud?
Why don’t we question the patriarchal structure,
the very spine of this uneven game?
Why isn’t that what we blame?
Because it’s the system you set up
layered, lopsided, locked in shame.
So don’t come crying about “special treatment,”
when it was always a rigged game.
. . .
Discus