I was away for sometime now, from my low-profile blog life. Just that I had too much on my plate…actually I still do. But an unforgettable poem we studied during the good old days when we had literature has brought me back to share my profundity…or profound stupidity : ))
The poem was intense…and passionate…. and most of all, it was real. It wasn’t hard to sense the fervour the poet might’ve had bottled within her to actually come up with something so blatant. Its not a poem that I particularly loved, cos I felt the poet was rather incurably depressed with the world…but times have changed, and so have some of my opinions! Here is “The Wind-Up Doll”
(oh… wind-up doll here refers to a woman/women)

The Wind-Up Doll
More than this, yes
more than this one can stay silent.

With a fixed gazelike that of the dead
one can stare for long hours
at the smoke rising from a cigaretteat the shape of a cup
at a faded flower on the rug
at a fading slogan on the wall.

One can draw back the drapes
with wrinkled fingers and watch
rain falling heavy in the alley
a child standing in a doorway
holding colorful kites
a rickety cart leaving the deserted square
in a noisy rush

One can stand motionless
by the drapes—blind, deaf.

One can cry out
with a voice quite false, quite remote“I love…”
in a man’s domineering arms
one can be a healthy, beautiful female

With a body like a leather tablecloth
with two large and hard breasts,
in bed with a drunk, a madman, a tramp
one can stain the innocence of love.

One can degrade with guile
all the deep mysteries
one can keep on figuring out crossword puzzles
happily discover the inane answers
inane answers, yes—of five or six letters.

With bent head, one can
kneel a lifetime before the cold gilded grill of a tomb
one can find God in a nameless grave
one can trade one’s faith for a worthless coin
one can mold in the corner of a mosque
like an ancient reciter of pilgrim’s prayers.
one can be constant, like zero
whether adding, subtracting, or multiplying.
one can think of your --even your—eyes
in their cocoo of anger
as lusterless holes in a time-worn shoe.
one can dry up in one’s basin, like water.

With shame one can hide the beauty of a moment’s togetherness
at the bottom of a chestlike an old, funny looking snapshot,
in a day’s empty frame one can display
the picture of an execution, a crucifixion, or a martyrdom,
One can cover the crak in the wall with a mask
one can cope with images more hollow than these.

One can be like a wind-up doll
and look at the world with eyes of glass,one can lie for years in lace and tinsel
a body stuffed with straw
inside a felt-lined box,at every lustful touch
for no reason at all
one can give out a cry
“Ah, so happy am I!”’

PHEW!!! It’s kinda scary- for one, the point she throws at your face- like the women who claim they are happy are merely lying.
And second, have I become a hopeless cynic myself to actually appreciate….and admire….and thoroughly agree with most of what she says! I dunno…. and don’t care much…but its true. The clichéd saying- “it’s a man’s world afterall” still holds good. I never have, and still don’t feel anything remotely like pride to be called a feminist, for I feel the noise is often blown out of proportion…and from what I can gather, I find myself thinking ‘how absurd some claims are’….for instance, when women exercise their want to be treated as equals to men, are they so sure they only want to be on par with men….i mean….what makes men the ultimate yardsticks to measure what a woman rightfully deserves anyway?

On the flip side, it’s a lot easier to rant away in a blog…but I guess when women of our country (and other places in the world too) find it hard to be treated atleast on par with men, a status higher than men would only be a distant dream. In any case, there never is harm in women looking at themselves as separate, independent entities, rather than as mere contenders to mens’ abilities and accomplishments.

Picture this… this is what the poem makes me feel each time I read it….

If someone asked me, “Are you happy- say yes or no”.
I’d think “God!! What a ridiculous question”
I would think a little more, and realize there are things that make me happy and things that make me sad too…
not wanting to elaborate on my life’s sorrows, to cut the long story short, I’d simply say,
“yes, I am happy:)”.
And the person would just scream out… “NO you are not happy…you are lying… you cannot possibly be happy….you are a sad person.!!”.

Depending on my mood, id either kick that persons ass knowing that he/she was insane and talking a little too much….or if I were in my usual ‘say what u want’ mood, id probably hum my favourite song till he/she was done….or if I were in a suggestible mood, I’d probably sink into myself as though a great realization dawned upon me and realize, “oh! I am actually a sad person, for more reasons than one…”

In any case, this uncanny episode is something I would always remember… there is nothing that can hit you harder than when someone defies what you truly believe as your truth….all said and done, now we are well equipped with what to say to a woman when she says she is happy..hehe…but on a serious note, although the poem might not necessarily trigger a revolution as she might’ve originally hoped for, it atleast makes people think.…. well, I made me think....