Tuesday, May 24, 2011

You Set Me Free


You were insane,
You made me the same;
Love was not what we had.
You came in my life,
You hurt like a knife,
To be rid of you I was glad. -6

My hand you had burnt,
Pain I had learnt;
You've left me quite a scar.
My mind you made weak,
Solitude I did seek;
From you now I am afar. -12

You choked me one eve,
Before I could leave;
Said I shouldn't tell a soul.
That's when it dawned,
To be with you was wrong;
Redemption was my goal. -18

For months I was quiet,
My mind lost it's sight;
Why had you been so rude?
Anything but gentle,
Some even thought mental;
Went by the name of Jude. -24

I eventually fought back,
Got myself back on track;
No reason to shed more tears.
Your anger was futile,
Forever in denial;
You're no more a part my fears. -30

I'm over you now,
With a curtsey and a bow;
I've moved on as you can see.
All thanks to you,
For being distastefully cruel;
You finally set me free. -36


For J.R.Pai, the boy who believed in "hammering" a girl to set her right.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Confessions


If there was ever a thing I ever dreaded during my childhood it was probably being forced to go for confession. Most people are just afraid of the dentist. But not me, all it takes is a confession box and a priest. Don't get me wrong though. I've nothing against it. I just never found myself with the required amount of sins to confess about to the white robed man in the booth. In fact, I found it very hard to make a confession in the first place.

I was always a little worried I wouldn't have the right kind or amount of "sins" to confess. Not that my sins were terrible, to which I might add, were not. In my defense, most of what I did as a child was purely out of curiosity and innocence and couldn't possibly be a sin. A mistake maybe, but not a sin. And so it led me to believe that at such a tender age of ten even I hadn't done anything bad. A twelve year old cannot have sins either. And the only "sin" I confessed to that year was forgetting to do the washing that week!

Explaining all of the above to a priest is as good as having a conversation with a raging fire...stupid and pointless. Of course, in due time, going for confession became more or less something done annually until the very practice itself stopped in the family. It wont be the last I'll be hearing about it though. I'm certain I'll be sent for one soon enough. And this time I'll remember to say something better than not washing clothes or dishes. Forgetting to make love to my then husband sounds so much more sinful! Right?!


p.s.: People commit mistakes, not sins.