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There'd be days like these her momma said.
Not the ones she'd like,
Not the ones she'd choose,
Days that are dark and she'll live the tales.
Mary knew John would come at the dawn,
A little late or later but sure he would.
Waiting made her happy,
So she would send him merrily,
Like always,
a day late was normal,
a few days later was odd,
weeks together was scary.
but some days later he came,
he came breathless,
like the dead fishes, he'd always bring her from the sea.
There'd be days like these her momma said,
'When we wait to hug somebody and only cry!'
It was June and not summer,
Splashy, muddy, slimy,
wind-kissing roads of Chennai in sight,
I hear, "Jennifer, Jennifer."
Aloysius' wife answers in.
Break - in the movie, I sip my coffee.
Water was rising in the southernmost state of India,
Destruction or development,
Recovery or renovation,
Right words struggled to meet right arms,
Jennifer and Aloysius buffered in the background,
House I was not in was sinking.
I stopped watching snowflakes in the Americas,
Wished for a sun-feast in Kerala,
I lapsed to places sitting at the window pane,
Netflix didn't help the cultural fix.
here, thoughts succumbed, coffee mug dried up.
While uninvited ants,
swept my coffee off the sugarcoat...
Sharon Thomas May 2017
you ‘why’ her.
While she is thrilled & happily beside you,
Telling you when she’s up to something new.
Your pre-existing notion of setting a “ya” for her limits,
Persistent "no" to her wishes,
She grows up to know that,
if she got to do something new
She got to fight over the, 5 Ws & 1 H!
Ow! & you convince it’s out of distress not mistrust!
And by the Indian parenting manual,
questionnaire weighs heavier at a girl.
ultimately,
“This time”, “That day”,
" This place", “Those people”
Would impregnate her!
Sons of yours -
Son of nights! freely hatching eggs past curfew.
Not foreseeing the evenings his sister would come crying.
Parents when you talk on equality & empowerment,
Let broad mind not hit the very ceiling of your house
Let rest mindset that proclaims gender roles,
The differential idea you set on them,
From who uses broom to who chooses groom.
If misogyny is permeated in the roots of society
Cleansing and changing begins in the family,
Before there in your minds, first.
Sharon Thomas May 2017
When it rains here once again
I remember the time we clenched hands that monsoon.
And we trailed down that railway track on a cloudy noon
We weren't alone did you know?
In a place unknown to fog and snow
The weather had lost its temper
The train had been blinded enough to lose track.
Who doesn't know it's all a knack!
Derailed, they say.
Before the next I wish they simply care
These are not mere accidents you bare,
But testimonies you claim on a paid fare.
Indian Railways or any other for that matter I say,
When they pass the word 'happy journey'
We simply wish it's not our last.
When it rains once again here,
I remember the time we clenched hands that monsoon.
And I wailed down the railway track on that tragic day,
I do not understand which side to stake.
Or wish for summer once again in my life
Or curse the rails, frames and journeys that shatter.
Shatter! Solely due to human hands that fell short,
short to value the lives that derail.
Sharon Thomas Jan 2017
THE Weird, unstoppable & unexplored thoughts,
Waggled down the curves of me
With beautiful words of thy,
That guided me,
Without the hands of clock stopping mine,
From feeling what it has to be
Numb yet warm, loved & tuned.
While you triggered the awkward convos we made,
For you, deep here praise remained.
The reel or real interest you showed in me
As we have read in all those tales be,
I've also left a part of myself to thee
When you drown again to the imagination' sea,
If your stick hooks upon the part I've left,
Then shall you see what I left wasn't silly!
Sharon Thomas Oct 2016
Sister who conceived was thrown outta the nunnery
This disgrace fed the top feeds hence.
Shunning all her exemplary works at once.
But where did the well-read ladies lose reference?
THE BOOK had revealed it all right there,
But when history repeated itself...
with just a track from heaven missing
And so this mother raised a fatherless child.
But in history when the father was a Carpenter.
Here in time the father was a Father
Who continued to raise "patriarchy" on the altar!
Sharon Thomas Jan 2016
If you become furious with every injustice!
He said once.
He fought till his last breathe..
he's still there,here and everywhere.
All the young men out there
He's more than that proud face on your tee & on the posters you see.

From Cuba to Kerala..His portrait hangs on every street
I say, it's not just about his proud face
           it claims the tale of a man who won a race!
           A race to raise humanity from vanity
Unlike the pastors who preach on peace with an ease
           He was pragmatic not dramatic
           Replaced fright with fight
           Placed righteous over mightiest
And yes he won that race to raise humanity back to sanity

You can either respect him for his dedication or detest him for his ruthlessness
You can either accompany the haters who call him a terrorist
Or follow the fellows who hail him as a REVOLUTIONARY
Nonetheless, he was victorious and victory lies with righteous alone!

Che was a rebel but not without a cause..
Yes for the Cubans !
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