Posted in Poem

Silence Of The Skin

Recently I had a chance to collaborate with Smriti Gautam on a project with subject that we share a mutual interest for- women and the overpowering emotions.

Here is a glimpse of a very strong emotion- insecurity, that women face often and how they deal with it or choose to live with it.

Artworks by Smriti Gautam

A birth mark that looks a lil’ uncanny
A beauty spot in place revealing which feels funny
Scars from the everyday battle called life
Etched on my skin is my story.
Gazing at the color-
The pensive pigments and frivolous freckles
I see myself from a stranger’s eyes
The eyes with a shattering voice caging me in notions of beauty
Peeping at the mirror- I stand, I quiver, I introspect
A narrative of glory was written only to be trapped in qualms of unfortunate desire
Alas! I cover most of it-
Forging a smile attempting to embrace silence of my skin.

Days, weeks, months and years pass
I question who am I-
I discover many talents and some experiences worth tooting
Only. If only, I had the courage to stand tall with no fear of those wretched eyes and unkind voices
Alas! I stand covering myself in a piece of cloth constantly feeling naked.
The day I break away from the chains of being wanted
The moment I learn to savour my unconventional beauty
That day shall my skin recite the glorious tale of “becoming”
Till then I’ll stumble upon zones beyond comfort wishing to nurture who I am.

A big thanks to Smriti Gautam and all the lovely ladies who shared a piece of themselves and their stories with us.

Posted in Artwork, Poem

Horrors Of The Female Body

Media: pencils, 2B and 5B

Each morning she would wake up to a dream-

A dream so deluded with perfection

Ball gowns and dainty glass slippers scattered across her boudoir

Alas! It would vanish opening her eyes to the difficulties and the forbidden realities.

She stood in front of the mirror-

Thinking of the norms of beauty

She skipped a heartbeat or two

As the realisation dawned upon her that she was hideous-

Or was it her vision for the eye to be pleased that she fained to redeem with!

Each noon she would come across women-

Frivolous and jittery; dispersed all along in a fashion too random

To her a few were pretty; And a few blatantly ugly.

Each night she would go home

Undressed- standing in front of the mirror yet again

She knew she wasn’t perfect

Analysing herself from head to toe-

She felt captured by her endless flaws

Her expression would shrink to that of personified melancholy

All she wished for was a procrastinated meet with the horrors of the female body.

Posted in Experience, People, Photography, Poem

PILGRIMS OF OUR OWN SCARS

Inscribed on the skin- narrates the stories of our heroism
And of failures and debt,
Your body- it tells a tale
I wish so could mine
Alas! It speaks silence-
Peeping through the plight of a blank verse.
The scars- they are intriguing
I wish so might be your charm
The ones we inherit
And the ones we create
The ones we dare to embark
We recreate and recreate untill the changed us could reconnect
Indeed, we are the pilgrims of our own scars.