He’s been proudly called the “father of India” and a “great soul in beggar’s garb.” Undoubtedly, Mahatma Gandhi provided the world a totally different approach to politics. A frail man with a will of iron, he created a blueprint for an independent India. His values and principles are still influential worldwide, and he remains one of the most revered figures in modern history. To this day, his birthday continues to be celebrated all over India every October 2nd. Internationally, this day is celebrated as the International Day of Nonviolence, since Gandhiji was known for preaching about the nonviolent protest. He continues to be a symbol of peace and truth.
We celebrate great figures, like Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, and B. R. Ambedkar, not only for their contributions to the Indian independence movement but also for their character. Indian history, in general, has great leaders, who had significant roles in the making of the nation. Even so, we all have an ideal figure whom we follow and aim to mold ourselves into. However, a customary glance at Indian history exposes many problematic features of these political heroes and of the history itself. We celebrate political leaders, but forget to follow their values and morals.
“What Gandhi Means to Me” redefines the concept of admiring political leaders. This poem emphasizes that we celebrate Gandhi in vain if we neither understand nonviolence nor conform to his values, which he emphasized by his actions. There’s hatred, violence, falsehood and tyranny everywhere, so we must always question the usefulness of idolizing political figures.
I met Gandhi betwixt the crisp metaphors & heightened imageries,
In the empty farms,
In the hungry bellies,
In the bloody lanes.
I met Gandhi, I met Nehru & I met Ambedkar,
I witnessed crimson petals turn bloody red,
I saw the devil under the flesh and bones,
Poison, a gun and a dagger,
Nonviolence, truth and selflessness all buried deep in the grave.
Police, politicians and the powerful seldom walk over the seemingly firm and dry mud in the graveyard.
Be it Gandhi, be it Nehru or be it Ambedkar,
Of what use they are today?
I met bodies lying longingly for their loved ones,
I witnessed women struggling to steal even a gasp,
Lives paralyzed by the sting of hatred,
If I could only write any of you–Gandhi, Nehru or Ambedkar,
If I could tell you how all your teachings failed.
Braille of battles
Seldom won,
Speech
A therapy,
A string of lies,
A medley of vengeance, greed and selfish motifs.
Be it Gandhi, be it Nehru or be it Ambedkar,
Of what use they are today?
If love can’t win over hatred,
If truth chokes in the smoke of Insanity,
If men eat men,
The teachings of one, the tongue of another,
All efforts in vain.
Here, you will learn how to jab your scream into paper, and turn them into poems,
This is one amongst hundreds and thousands.
Be it Gandhi, be it Nehru or be it Ambedkar,
Of what use they are today?
The opinions expressed by the guest writer/blogger and those providing comments are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any employee thereof. Brown Girl Magazine is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the guest writer/bloggers. This work is the opinion of the blogger. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.
“Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a meditation on the new moon and guilt. I wrote it when I was living in Dallas and was driving back from a dusk prayer. The new moon terrified me on that drive. I was diseased by the knowledge that my partner, at the time, had seen the worst parts of me. There’s immense shame in this piece—it seized my self-image. If the moon could become brand new, then I could start over.
I often ponder on the moon’s reflective nature and pairs of eyes. I’m hyper-fixated on how I am seen by others. Unfortunately, the brilliance of seeing your reflection in another person leads to negativity. After all, those who are too keen on their own reflection are the same people who suffer from it. It is possible to use shame to fuel one’s retribution and personal growth, without becoming consumed by it.
We can look to Shah Rukh Khan succumbing to alcoholism in his own sorrow and then later imbibing his sadness in Chandramukhi. “Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a lesson for us: Don’t be Shah Rukh Khan in Devdas, instead embody pre-incarnation Shah Rukh Khan in Om Shanti Om!
Sometimes when the moon abandons the sky, I wonder if I drove her away.
If she comes back, will she be the same? How I wish she would come back new, truly new! That way she’d have no memory of the sin I’ve confessed to her. You noxious insect. Sin-loving, ego-imbibing pest. You are no monster, for at least a monster has ideology, it sins with purpose. You sin just to chase ignominy.
But the moon won’t say that, she never does. She’ll just leave the sky and return days later, slowly. And I’ll wonder if she’s new, perhaps she won’t remember my past confessions. What does it matter? Were the moon replaced with one from a different god, I’d drive her away, too.
I organize play dates for my children. They’re friendships remind me of when I was younger when Fridays were consistently set aside for my friends. Now, it seems play is indeed meant for childhood and work is for aging adults. We often can’t find time for ourselves, let alone our friends, who are busy working mothers like ourselves. Or we moved into unreachable corners of this globe, far away from any means of physical communication. It’s fair to say, it’s hard to stay close to friends like when we were in college. Nowadays, it’s easier to travel, but more difficult to bond with others. “My Friend” asserts that we should not end let our friendships fall by the wayside. Even with physical distance and conflicting schedules, we keep our friendships close with kind words on phone calls, regular FaceTime calls, or even encouraging social media comments. Friendship doesn’t end once we become adults.
The opinions expressed by the guest writer/blogger and those providing comments are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any employee thereof. Brown Girl Magazine is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the guest writer/bloggers. This work is the opinion of the blogger. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.
NAKED: The Honest Musings of 2 Brown Women was born in the autumn of 2018, when Mimi Mutesa and Selvi M. Bunce began sharing their poetry collections. It was scary, beautiful, and terrifying when they decided to trust each other with their most intimate thoughts. Not only did they feel relieved after doing so, but Selvi and Mimi also felt more seen as women of color. They embarked on their publication journey, so others may feel as seen as they did on that fateful autumn.
“Ingrown Hair” deals with the themes of societal and family pressures that are reflected throughout NAKED. Mimi and Selvi have always written for themselves. They see poetry as an outlet, and their poems exemplify their personal frustration and vulnerability. “Ingrown Hair” speaks to Selvi’s experience with the societal pressures of South Asian women, such as getting married, being a good wife, becoming a good mother, and leading a certain kind of life.
There is something strange beneath my skin
telling me to build a house,
make a home,
mother children.
I am not sure how to reconcile it.
My mother was strong
and a mother after all.
My philosophy has been to spend my time
on myself and the world.
I have always thought
I could simply address the thing under my skin
when it finally crawled out.
But when my family starts guessing
who will get married first, and my father
has been saving wedding money for years,
I begin to wonder
if I will have to pluck it out.
The opinions expressed by the guest writer/blogger and those providing comments are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any employee thereof. Brown Girl Magazine is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the guest writer/bloggers. This work is the opinion of the blogger. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.
