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She writes too.

Hope to turn a life around.

So I wrote a ballad.

Let me sing you a ballad –

Of a room full of people and colours,

High pitched laughter and chaos,

And eyes that wandered

Back to the gallant fella.

All the tiring isolations of frustration,

The seamless giggles of nervousness,

And even a heart I once stole

Remain a secret well hidden;

But all these feelings for you, I just can’t hide.

The smile upon the winter sun,

The smile in the the drive on the open road,

The flutter of leaves with morning dew;

All I’ve known but not this smile of ecstasy

And a fluttering heart for eternal love.

Delving into the idle dreams of lowly days,

Finding silence in our aimless melody,

Those frowns wiped off by coy smiles,

Tripping over the quite obvious

Truth – with you is life’s unfathomable bliss.

Like the sunshine over the pure white snow,

I find my sweet escape in your tight embrace,

My fears melt away while you kiss me slow,

But I’ve to innocently ask you once again,

Yours, can I be forever hence?

– Supriya Hegde

Tipsy fall.

               A cheerful fall morning where the birds chirp, a chill settles down on the neighbourhood as the fitness enthusiasts greet one another as they pass by on the sidewalks and the smell of perfectly brewed coffee fills the air. What wasn’t to love about this morning? It was a Monday. The day of the week which carries with it the most dreaded frustration and it was back again. No one wants to go back to college or work after a wild weekend but that definitely wasn’t the case with Sana. After all, she’d spent an entire weekend planning for the big day. Sana had picked out the perfect outfit just few days after she received her call for the interview.
             Sana had spent the last few hours of her weekend doing two things she loved the most. Dancing to country tunes and putting things in order which included her neatly ironed A line dress, the perfect pair of shoes, accessories, most importantly her CV and all the essentials. Sana might seem like a cute little freshman anticipating the wonders of high school in store for her but in reality she’s a senior in the college downtown. She had successfully survived the past years of college, even though she was not a straight A student but a young woman with ideas.
                  After a quick shower and the perfect morning diet breakfast, she stood in front of the mirror and caught herself smiling at her reflection. It was the smile that told you she was in control, a smile that conquered fears and a smile that told you the day was hers. The cab had arrived right on time, Sana was at her scheduled meet exactly 10 minutes before the given time and that was just what she needed to feel happy with how the morning had turned out so far. Perfect. Just the way she liked it.
                  “Sana!”, a very familiar voice boomed from behind her. The same voice that she often hears in her dreams, the same voice that makes her jump when she walks back into an empty house and the same voice that reminds her of what it is to love. The same voice that she had not heard in a considerably long time. So much for a perfect morning. She nervously tucked the stray strands behind her ear, took a step back and with one long look at the building, she sprinted in the opposite direction. She ran from all that she had been and from all that she could be. This time, she couldn’t stop.

To be continued.

– Supriya Hegde

I have wronged.

               I have wronged. I don’t blame the world, I take the blame. I am a girl. I shouldn’t raise my voice, that’s no manners. I am a girl. The world is a peaceful and loving place but somehow I bring upon it the dooms of humanity. After all, I am a girl. Don’t laugh too loud, don’t dress up if it makes you happy, don’t do that and don’t do this, just stop doing everything that makes you happy if you’re a girl.  

              That is not what my parents taught me but the norms of the society and what all the people talk about induced in me. A society which talks about the freedom of speech and expression is all for it as long as it isn’t practically implemented. I fear my safety leave alone my rights. Oh wait, my safety and consent are my rights? Never knew of it. All I gather is that when my safety and consent are questioned, there is nothing but fear and dread that takes control.  

            I don’t say all men are to be blamed. No, just like the blame is not to be on the girl entirely. Time and again, growing up, from the monsters under my bed to the horrors of the world, I realized where my true fears lie. Do I trust the world enough with my unknown future ahead? No. Does the society understand that I needn’t justify it? No. 

             The basics of growing up as a girl I learnt were the importance of caution more and respect less, modesty more and privacy less, fear more and trust less. Who is to blame when I cancel plans for evening parties because my mom said no or take a step backwards when my stand is questioned? Is it me or my parents or the simple fact that the world around me has succumbed to the point where it no more deserves my trust? Yet, I do not blame the world. 

             The world is not to be blamed.  Some people can’t handle progress without reminding us that what doesn’t kill us only scars us for the rest of our survival days. Girls wearing western clothes just disrupt the sanctity of the minds of those sick beasts just the way a nuclear weapon causes harm. After all, short dresses, that’s some skin show and skin isn’t something they see everyday. Savage people, don’t blame them.

             Even after all this, one question still jars my mind. I see so many men wearing shorts, low waist pants which are way below waist line and western clothes everyday. Nobody seems to have a problem with it or is it that they are molested and eveteased for their provocative dressing sense, yet choose to remain silent?

              I’m a girl. I shouldn’t ask questions. I shouldn’t have even written this post. Forget I wrote it. I have wronged. I have wronged the world with my silence. I have wronged the world with my fear. I have wronged the world with every humiliation I forget not but endure in silence. I am a girl. If the same world which talks about female infanticide is going to reduce my self esteem and kill me eventually, I’d rather die in the womb where I felt secure.

              To every man out there, it is in your capability to make this world a safer place. Remember to respect, take consent and take responsibility. With sports, stock markets and all your jokes, it does not harm to talk about incidents that involve the safety of women. Don’t talk about culture such as dressing sense if your version of culture has no meaning to respect.

            To every woman out there, voice out, learn to stand up for yourself. You won’t always have someone to do it for you. Amidst all the perfect hair goals and other talks, talk about your safety and your equal stand in the society. Break stereotypes. Don’t be afraid to say no. Stop being afraid. I write this with my own fears untold. By being afraid, I have wronged, so have you.

              You and me, together let us make this a safer place. Building a better world starts with you. It starts with me. Don’t hesitate to seek justice. Stop channeling the infiltrated world. This is yet another far outcry and a humble request to change the world.

– Supriya Hegde

His secrets.

The fabric light against his inked skin,

Unsure, I whisper, did it hurt?

Eyes light from the radiance within,

He tells me, not his skin;

The world may never see,

See the fading scars underneath;

He may never write the stories,

The stories we may never read.

He does sin, not to be a sinner

But he is not the devil;

He does scream innocence,

But he is not an angel.

Looking for monsters under his bed,

They never seem to stay the distance;

Weary eyed and short breaths,

Fighting off demons inside his head.

Why does it seem so dark

When he silently speaks?

Searching for the unexplainable spaces,

These are the secrets that he keeps.

– Supriya Hegde

 

Truce with Chaos.

           Should it be a hey or a hi? Every time, for long, no sooner the three dots appeared, they disappeared. Little that was left of hope tore you from tear to tear within and eventually, life was in pace with all the fears. Hope.

          He hopes she can make peace with her past and focus on the present, he hopes she finds her happy place and he’s sorry he couldn’t take her there. The coffee remains untouched and cold. He wonders if it was love or vengeance while he hopes it was love. Hope. 

          Perhaps, she feels bad when she enjoys herself and forgets about him. She doesn’t know how to be the perfect friend anymore. There are too many things unsaid and unresolved to just move on as friends are supposed to and it never seems to work when she tries because of it. Never the less, she hopes it’ll be alright. Hope.

          They cut ties, leave no strand behind, but slice right through until they no longer remember how to find each other.  From here and there, they gather bits of the charred images of life in their shoes, this time the smile is wider but the eyes are filled with strangled hope. Hope.

          Now, it’s not hope, it’s the right choice with false hope that got you here. Lost as you may be, it is this hope that will not let the fire be dampened by the drizzles of life. The silent grievience and all the regrets won’t let you be but what is it to live without dying a little? 

          Moments of unfulfilled wishes go a long way, if untold memories feel like they were forged in hellfire and made of stunning scars, don’t forget – so are you. Take on life like it happened just the way you planned it. There is nothing more intriguing than calling truce with chaos.

 – Supriya Hegde

 

 

A note to the curious eyes.

Too often, we underestimate the power of a word, which has a potential to turn a life around. Here, we begin a new journey. Along the way, I’d love to pick up a lot of things from the world and hopefully give a lot more than take; to those who would care to add meaning to the empty words that I string together, thank you.

Not all words have meaning unless you give them any. Happy reading.

– Supriya Hegde

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