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The poem is a living reminder of the monotonous life spent by a large number of Muslim women. Their desires and passion don’t die but are repressed by the gratuitous burden of pride and honour enforced by the patriarchal society.
Veiled behind the walls of honour and pride
There roams in a den
One pregnant woman;
Chirp, wail, clamour, purr
Razing her fragile sleep
Shred by shred,
Till its shards sting
And she sleeps no more;
Absorbing the suffocation
Immune to claims
Boring the countless seeds
Planted in her womb,
Keeps her busy;
But as the moon deliberately blends
Into the sun,
Sneaks out from underneath the countless layers
Her buried daring desire,
To be exposed in the arms of sharp chilled wind;
Fearless, boundless, she unveils
Her timely possession
Basking in the solace of wind
One pregnant woman.
A Socialist feminist repulsed by the hypocrisy, cruelty, and oppression, a voracious reader with specialized interest in Literature and the search for the self is still on.