numb fI feel numb.


Not the way your foot feels

          when blood flow gets restricted…

The tingling sensation goes

               through the skin like strum.


Nor the kind you feel

               with anaesthesia…

Given before a surgery;

               That’s a placating stifling numb.


It must be my fault. Father said so…

Though I don’t understand how…

                              I’m so naive, just so dumb.


Skipping around that I was

                              With excitement ample,

               Hurried up to get dressed

                              for my betrothal;

               He must’ve entered quietly,

                              Quite sure he didn’t knock;

               I know I’d closed the door,

                              Maybe missed to lock;

                                    I can be so unheeding like a bum.


Before I knew, all over me he was,

                              overpowering, pushing, groping,

               Scratching like an animal;

                              I couldn’t, though I tried stopping;

               Couldn’t even shout for help,

                              Just cried…

                    Helpless rivelets pouring and dropping;

          Wondering how so much ugliness was hidden,

                                                    Behind a face so handsome.


Father, maybe you didn’t love me so,

                              But you were always my hero;

               At my moment of despair

               I just wished for you to be there

            To save your little doll frail and fair,

                             From the filthy paws of that scum.


God did send you in time,

Before the beast could culminate his heinous crime;

               But how could I face you

                              In my state so abhorrent,

               I wished I could vanish

                              or simply die at that moment,

He took the opportunity to push his lie,

                        Said it was with my explicit consent;

       I should’ve stated the facts but couldn’t out of shame,

               And you took my silence admittance to the blame,

Didn’t you see my tears, and the truth hidden in my pain;

      Or you simply chose to believe him for he’s your business chum.


O dad! I’d felt so dirty

               Under his touch so repulsively vile,

But I felt dirtier under your gaze so accusing,

               Probing me, holding me to an implicit trial,

Like a spike, blunt and deep,

                       stabbing me over and over again, ad nauseam.


And mother! even you didn’t step up for me,

                   Though you always said I’m your tiny crumb;

In your presence I was molested the second time over,

                     How could you just look away and stay mum!


You wanted me to hold my peace,

                          To go quietly through the protocol,

               Hiding behind the glittery veil

                          The wounded body and mutilated soul;

               Moving like a zombie, I complied to suffer,

                       Sans protest I laid myself on the altar,

                                                  As an immolation to the baalim.


My soulmate-to-be

               Looked at me with eyes amored,

         Held my hand, blushed a little,

                          Then smiled and proposed –

                 You look dazzling in this garb incarnadine,

                   Today on, I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine,

                          It’s such a auspicious moment

                     With celebratory air and a toast of wine;

                       All around are so happy dear,

                                         then why is it that you look so glum!


The empathic words almost broke the dam

                       Holding the volcanic tempest restrained,

          Wanted to howl, cry and scream,

                        To take me instanter to a far away land;

               But dear, you too are a man

                           Will you believe, will you understand;

               The humiliation, the pain, the anguish,

                                                   Will you ever be able to plumb?


Why is the woman always blamed?

                        Violated against her will, still held guilty;

               It’s manly to be the perpetrator,

                              And being a woman is the culpability;

               Dressed wrongly, at wrong place,

                                        Or leaving the door unlocked,

Every action or omission is an invitation for assault;

               Scantily dressed or all veiled up,  

                                                      It always is her fault;

                 Living in the shadows from the moment she’s born,

Guarded, coveted, suppressed, used, sold, possessed and shorn;

                               Even for her progenitors, she’s nothing but a problem.


He takes my hand, to slip on the ring,

               Something snaps inside with a twinge,

                           I pull back my hand,

        Throwing back the veil I stand;

                          There are murmurs but I don’t care,

                           There are callings but I don’t hear,

     Holding my head erect I start walking,

                     There’s no more pain and no more fear;

          I look up – the clouds are gone,

                         And the skies look so amazingly clear,

          I just walk on straight, never to turn back or veer;

                     There’s no anger, no sadness, nor the opprobrium,

                                             All I feel is just numb!


               Not the way your foot feels…

                        Nor the anaesthesia…

                              It’s the kind when you are about to die,

                                             Or say – just reborn numb!


If it prodded or tickled your senses, feel free to share it with all your friends and relatives.

Do hit the “Like” button and share your feelings it evoked in you in the form of comments, brickbats including.



27 thoughts on “NUMB

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