March 8 is International Women's day. We present four new voices here who have conveyed with simplicity their even more simple thoughts. Today may be just another day but each day counts.
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I’m a Woman, No Goddess Am I by Mariam Riaz

Place me not on a pedestal high,
So high that you may not hear my sigh,
For I am but human, not a statue of stone,
Place me not on that unwanted throne.

I am not perfect, no human can be,
Why do you expect so much of me?
I wish not to be worshipped in your eye,
I deserve not a station so high.

If you may happen to do such a thing,
And place me higher than any king,
Expect me not to thus always stay,
For I may, quite suddenly, fall one day.

And when I do, leave not my side,
Do look on me with your eye kind,
For I am but human, not a being divine,
If my virtues are plenty, faults too are mine.
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When Idols Fall by Nahida Sunil

When Idols fall
There’s no loud noise
No rolling thunder
No crashing sound
No screaming winds
No terrifying storms
No trumpets blare
No heralds declare
No bells are rung
No eulogies sung
No mournful melodies played again and again
No violent, searing, shattering pain

When Idols fall
They simply crumble
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A Bedtime Story? by Farah Shams

I never like being out on a cold night,
I cannot conceive of ever leaving
My warm walls, my snug ceiling
And step out.
Where chilly darkness seeps into skin…
My nails blue, my lips shivering
The breeze a knife tearing my gown
Breaching my warmth, searing my bones
I hate being cold…
I suppose they stayed out all night -
Those few who could.
I hope they didn’t hate being cold,
I hope they didn’t hate being cold and lying out at night,
On that day and next and next -
And how many more?

I never like being wet in winter rain
The clothes clinging to my body; a second skin
Their ugly wetness trapping the chill of winds.
The water dripping, creeping, crawling
And shamelessly invading,
Chilling those veins cool winds can’t reach;
It sets the teeth jittering.
I hate being wet in winter rain…
I cannot think straight
I cannot even pray
I feel as if happiness was never real
But a dream, when I’m that cold…
And they have been wet in winter rain,
Those few who stayed outside
Those few who could…
On that day and next and next –
And how many more?
They must be thinking this by now
A dementor’s kiss is better somehow.

I have never been hungrier more than a day,
I have due to excesses, such nasty ways
Of wasting food.
Leaving it on plates, in mugs, in fridge
Letting it rot and throwing it away
I guess I don’t need to say,
I would be looking in garbage heaps
If I were they.

I have never lost a loved one by now
I lost a baby brother when I was one
I don’t think I loved him,
I couldn’t love an unknown someone.
But sometimes on some lonely night
I dream of him and weep.
I suppose my mother dreams every night and weeps
Motherhood’s bane…
I cannot even imagine losing a child, my own,
Imagination pulls a break there, I cannot think anymore -
I shudder to think of their horror,
To lose one and an other,
And an other,
And so many more…
They must be wishing they were with them inside,
They must be wishing they never got outside.

I never liked being late for school
I rarely took a day off –
I would get up and ready in a jiffy
All fresh and shining clean.
Kissing my mother and waving goodbye…
I was a good kid –
So were they; so were all of them,
So were all thousands of them.
They all got up and ready in a jiffy,
All fresh and shining clean.
Kissed their mother and waved goodbye…
Why did they have to be good kids?
Why did they reach on time?
Why didn’t they dally on the way?
And reach long after nine?
But they came –
They came and they came,
For they were good kids and they wanted to learn,
So they came to learn in classes,
They came in twittering masses,
And died.
Their mothers must be wishing they weren’t good kids.
Their mothers must be wishing they too had died.
- - -

Night’s Lost Sleep by Seema Kurup

night’s lost sleep
wide eyes of the dawn

kohl in your eyes
persistent liar

silence mirrors
those running streaks

vagabond look
wandering yet again

world to the loners
long, patient gaze

dreaming and waking
being real again

nudging in and out
endless images

weary, girl-mind
thinking yet again?

night’s lost sleep
wide eyes of the dawn

that you ask of me
i cannot find

that you wish for me
i cannot have

darkened, inky mind
come, heed me now

come rest wanderer
come tire no more...