Fleshened Bones

Because she can.
Isn`t that great?

Re: # 30 FV

Me being a bad guy is irrelevant to this discussion. The question remains that if `modern woman`` is so much more emancipated then why so much bitching and moaning.

Hi Ozer:

I did not see much flattery here; rather more of an exploration – just the way I like it.

Thank you for sharing your poem and going through this with a fine toothcomb, and although this board is on its way out, I would still like to respond…

[Yet associating a sense of possession with such lofty responses such as ``my Mumbai`` typecasts a jealously guarded sense of sub-conscious greed ?]

Possessiveness is not greed; you get possessive of what you own or own up to…

[Maybe those intense eyes represent an alternative sanctuary for them? One they can only dream of? And in the sheer vastness of those deep dark insatiable eyes they ponder about a safe-haven… yet that institutional metaphor carries with it an ``unconscious hostility`` of commitment ?]

I’d say a temporary sanctuary, therefore the transposition of tents with home.

[Farzana Im about to type something thorny. All such “claims” may not be mala fide. Percieved transgressions, voices, situations, and sexual/carnal desires and experiences are vastly different. There is an interesting contrast of different interpretations on “bodies for sale”. An understanding of womanhood against the backdrop of various perspectives.
Prostitution, at least in England, unlike India, is OFTEN out of free volition.]

I agree with the ‘free volition’ aspect; but freedom too becomes a burden. For now ‘availability’ is assigned proprietorial rights by default. Bodies for sale may be bought, not claimed.

[Hence do you not think Farzana that sometimes the ``victimization`` tag is over-rated? At least in the West? Do you not feel that this somewhat epitomises a sexual/moral double-standard?]

If victimisation is a mere tag, then it could be over-rated; but as a reality it cannot be dismissed. Sexual mores are always built on the foundation of some sort of morality, even if it is to protest it. More than a victim, the whore is the outsider. The numb recipient who is ironically also the one in charge at that point in time when her services are required.

[So Farzana a teasing and quirky question for desert
Are you a rose shut in a book
Inside which only women may look ?]

I gather this query is about my writing! Wasn’t it Thoreau who said there is always a part of oneself that is unknowable to anyone else? I would say that part is between the lines, the black spaces that punctuate the black on white. No, it isn’t just women that may look…anyone who gets beyond the cover jacket may try. Oftentimes souls in search of themselves prefer to lip read and be spoon-fed!

[Leikin Farzana shukur hay kei iss chowk par aap aag jalateen hain. Kuch lowg issey ``aag`` ke taur par dekhte hein, leikin kuch tanhai ruhaun issey ``roshnee`` ki akhian say samajh letey hein....]

Lekin, jaise kisine kahaa hai…

“Roshni dene waaley ko bhi kumse kum
Eik diya chahiye apne ghar ke liye…”

[Well Farzana we are all akin to the Madonna/Magdalene mentality the My Fair Lady stereotypes lurk beneath the surface of our ``gentle`` desi society, ostensibly a bastardised gentleness inherited from an imperialist bygone victorian society.]

The Madonna and Magdalene are merely ‘progressions’. The My Fair lady stereotype is an overhauling…a puppet, whereas both the M women were pretty much in charge of their destinies and their definitions of ‘purity’.

[``Her`` cool detachment and lack of sentiment is often a blessing in disguise. Even in the face of male ``wickedness`` and ``moral laxity`` they stand steadfast.]

Defence mechanism? Auto-suggestion?

[The prostitute is not of another species--she is a flesh and blood woman like any other ``made of the same lump [of clay]`` to quote religious scripture.]

I did elaborate on this in an earlier post where I said that the whore is also just another woman. Perhaps the threat is because she is for a certain purpose only a ‘woman’ and yet ‘man enough’ to ‘take it’ that provokes such strong emotions.

Although I did say earlier that the footnote reads separately, your post has made me think about it further. For Mumbai (the whore metaphor as used here), the only love that will last…why did one say that? Can the ephemeral be eternal? This is where we can talk about commitment to an idealised temptation, a moment that gets embedded forever in memory…

“Ab ke hum bichhdey tau shaayad kabhi khwaabon mein miley
Jis tarah sookhe phool kitaabon mein miley…”

Farzana I do not like to flatter people but this is the best poem I have read on Chowk thus far. For you wax very eloquently on several thought-provoking points. This poem should feature in some anthology.

Perhaps only when ``the noise of life`` ceases does one really think about the ``unthinkable`` woman--the pejoratively labelled ``whore``. As per usual interactors vomited religious and sexual excess, lesbianism notwithstanding, when their locus of attention could have been more far-reaching, and their observations more discerning. Enough on the self-appointed “janitorial-sages” on this e-forum. Now to focus on the substance of your work:

In your poem, I sniffed, through ``my very strong sense of smell`` (LOL) the embodiment of moral degradation, both lust and love divine which becomes delightfully yet inexorably entangled with your notion of injustice, gender, sexual proclivity and calamity. An ode to Mumbai, the dramatic verses, your exploring notions of womanhood, the parallels you draw with the citadels of caviar and corruption are powerful and evocative. Yet associating a sense of possession with such lofty responses such as ``my Mumbai`` typecasts a jealously guarded sense of sub-conscious greed ?

Farzana surely the sky of Mumbai belongeth not unto thyself. For the intellectual property of its limitless blue requires no sanction. From no one?


“Thick-skinned Mamma
They call you
Wretch
Wet
With gutter water
Where mosquitoes slaughter
Bastards bred in blood”


A poignant opening and indicative of how morality is a jealous creature
Farzana in fact your prologue enticed me to write my own home-grown 2 Rupees worth:

``Vile words`` leech onto a flower that remains immortal
Her petals, withered as they maybe are breath-taking
Envy`s voice at virtue`s pitch
Mocks you because your gown is ill-stitched
Vice is seldom clad in rags
Virtue isn`t always its own reward,
Ill clad grace and toil proclaim a strength that society will never applaud
Strength`` of character always chooses virtuous poverty
Over sinful splendor.
Even if it means breeding bastards in blood
The blood and threadbare clothes give you an unmatched impetus
To discover. Explore. And Question.


“They make promises to you
They make promises to me too
As they pitch their tents precariously
And see a home in our eyes”

So those “Mercedes driving caviar-tasting stench men” also seeketh a form of solace and sanctuary by peering into the ocean of those delectable eyes? Maybe those intense eyes represent an alternative sanctuary for them? One they can only dream of? And in the sheer vastness of those deep dark insatiable eyes they ponder about a safe-haven rankling in their minds until the break of dawn. No doubt, they would have preferred a night of passion under a Tuscan sun strewn with rings and bells of a ceremonious wedding yet that institutional metaphor carries with it an ``unconscious hostility`` of commitment ?
Man`s pitiless doom must now comply with lifelong hell ?
Does it not Farzana ?

“They use you
To strike out at others
Dealers, wheelers, brokers”


These are the grotesque “graciously” anointed goons who have institutionalised prostitution as a form of bonded labour. But their greedy insatiable bellies, with a feeding frenzy, will one day die of consumption. Their ill-gotten and insubstantial finery is finite. Their skewed calculating application of social desires and ambitions garner ruin and displacement. They pretend to be alpha-males yet they have not discovered their own proper sexual identification/orientation. People are blinded by their pimping outward signs of gentility.
Yet this is all transient.
Like the blink of an eye.

“They hail you
Only to acquire halos
Fake words froth in lip corners
As they make claims over your body”

Farzana Im about to type something thorny. All such “claims” may not be mala fide. Percieved transgressions, voices, situations, and sexual/carnal desires and experiences are vastly different. There is an interesting contrast of different interpretations on “bodies for sale”. An understanding of womanhood against the backdrop of various perspectives.
Prostitution, at least in England, unlike India, is OFTEN out of free volition.

Although my utterances are taboo in polite company, moralists of the Germaine Greer ilk ``fallen women`` chorus whilst endeavouring to embody their laudable concerns overlook that in the ``scourge of society`` supposedly ``victimized`` women can often be stereotyped as “pitiful peons”. Such neat categorization blurs differences in experience, opinion, and viewpoints regarding contrasting views of prostitution. Hence do you not think Farzana that sometimes the ``victimization`` tag is over-rated? At least in the West? Do you not feel that this somewhat epitomises a sexual/moral double-standard?




“They pumped you up with implants”

Quite true the “saffron brigade” (as coined by FV) often overlook that these nipped and tucked surgically enhanced botoxed Paris Hiltons with hearts of ice and credit cards of platinum enjoy doing this for a living.

“Minions
Of practised emotions”

And well-contrived orchestrated social scripts ?


”To conceal your scars
They cannot bear to watch
The wounds they have caused”

“”dried bones” Farzana without the “luscious flesh” ?

When our lips quivered
With the ache from arrows
Let us smile together some more
For we know
That grab us they might
They haven’t got as far as our souls

So Farzana a teasing and quirky question for desert
Are you a rose shut in a book
Inside which only women may look ?

Farzana in one of your responses you articulated “It truly made me happy that you called this a “work of art”. We have such standardised ideas of what constitutes art – it usually has to be sublime and other-worldly. And if it is a woman writing then she must speak only about love (the pretty kind), about beauty (the fair-and-lovely kind), and pining (the ‘main tulsi tere aangan ki’ kind, not the ‘yeh aag kab bujheygi’ sort).

Leikin Farzana shukur hay kei iss chowk par aap aag jalateen hain. Kuch lowg issey ``aag`` ke taur par dekhte hein, leikin kuch tanhai ruhaun issey ``roshnee`` ki akhian say samajh letey hein....

Well Farzana we are all akin to the Madonna/Magdalene mentality the My Fair Lady stereotypes lurk beneath the surface of our ``gentle`` desi society, ostensibly a bastardised gentleness inherited from an imperialist bygone victorian society.

Moving on to certain stanzas from ``Fleshened Bones``


What Im about to type is thorny. ``My baby, my baby, they slobbered
Paedophiles scavenging for your innocence``

Thank goodness for section 292 of the Indian Penal Code yet surely the sanction of 2000 Ruppees and/or 2 years in prison under its auspices illustrate what a mockery the legal system can be.

``They are flexing imaginary muscles
To face the tussle with their low self-esteem``

The fact that in macho testosterone-driven gears these South Asian men, especially under Shariah Law, have a lack of social release. Hence they dangle, in more ways than one, into dissolute lifestyles. At least in the Occident they can ventilate on the lack of their sexual prowess with shrinks ! It is this low self-esteem and lack of social/sexual release that makes them drive their Mercedes SLR`s deeper into the Heera Mandis where they concert with ``escort girls`` or ``glamour models`` as they are gloriously labelled in this country. These men with low-self esteem flock to flaunt their flabbergasted yet not fully erect ``flagpoles``.

In Pakistan army bases and naval ports are swamped with wife-swapping where venereal diseases run rife among the men with moustachesmilitary`s enlisted men. The question is Farzana how can this contagion of low male self-esteem be alleviated? Do try and look at this from a male point of view. Maybe “desi” societies will one day come of age and downplay the testicles of testosterone and own up to what it really is- a pile of stench. The stigmata of impotence is hidden

``It’s the same thing
Still catering to hounds``

But surely Farzana a lot of these ``hounds`` may have a bark.
Yet they cant bite.
For they remain impotent.
In more ways than one.

``The scented flames rise
To seal every orifice
With candle-wax
And starve you``

But surely they can never ``starve`` her intellect.
Her soul.
Her emotions
Are ``Impenetrable``

``Her`` cool detachment and lack of sentiment is often a blessing in disguise. Even in the face of male ``wickedness`` and ``moral laxity`` they stand steadfast.
Our bent for moralizing displaces a more profound reality that these women are bound yet free from other schackles.
Schackles of a violent husband.
The schackles of a forced marriage.
The schackles of dowry.

Faceless intellectual conductors are quick to point the finger at ``whores`` when they themselves are lower k9 species of the cheapest pedigree.

Only through a more sanctified envisionment of women, a broader debate rather than moralising the issue by empty-headed nut-shells can we make these women freer, more independent and oxygenised.
We cannot designate certain women into ``separate spheres.`` Im NOT trying to justify prostitution I`m saying that it is more of a complex issue than people purport. Even avowed feminists like myself throw my own thoughts into heaps of doubt.

The prostitute is not of another species--she is a flesh and blood woman like any other ``made of the same lump [of clay]`` to quote religious scripture.

Prostitution as a debate is a topic which both repels and entices us to probe deeper with our own thoughts.

Montag:

Thank you.
- - -
hamzahsaif:

It truly made me happy that you called this a “work of art”. We have such standardised ideas of what constitutes art – it usually has to be sublime and other-worldly. And if it is a woman writing then she must speak only about love (the pretty kind), about beauty (the fair-and-lovely kind), and pining (the ‘main tulsi tere aangan ki’ kind, not the ‘yeh aag kab bujheygi’ sort).

True art is artless; it does not mean it has no technique, but that technique is not something striven for. I think I like coal to be coal, I don’t want it to become a diamond.

However, these comments are general. What is relevant to this poem is that for me it was the immediacy that mattered. After a few days, it may or may not have the same potency – it may be just a lot of words that sound disgusting/exciting, depending on one’s own proclivities.

Sometimes, the point if not whether something stands the test of time, but of timing. And I won’t even go into any raw analogy here!

Your second post was extremely interesting, where you posited the mother with the whore.
- - -
Urstruly (#26):

[If the descent of modern woman from being a mother, sister, wife, and daughter to merely a bitch is not a yardstick then what is.]

First, you often have a problem with the concept of the modern woman, so for you her descent is a given. Besides, ‘modern’ is not one standard. The wife who gets a bit aggressive IS called a bitch. The corporate woman who manages to rise in her profession is called a floozy (why, this writer has been called one for her….political views!). The bitch is also a mother, sister, wife. She does not exist in a vacuum, much as you would like.

[Logically, the next step of evolution of woman should have been one step above being a mother, sister, wife, and daughter and not that to a level of animal. If this is the progress and this is the modernization of woman has to offer then the humanity is doomed. lahol wila quwat.]

How completely dotty is this. Even by your strange logic, why can a woman not have animalistic instincts? I am surprised that you have no words to chastise the ‘they’ who exploit the woman. If it is indeed descent, then she is being pushed down that road. If at some point she does take charge of her own destiny, turning the tables and becoming the supreme whore, that makes the patriarchal structure quake. The survival of a large section of humanity is because of the existence of the oldest profession, just in case you don’t know. Had it not been for this woman then mothers, sisters, wives, daughters would not be safe from the male uprising, so to speak, as opposed to ‘descent’.

[Is there a single woman on this forum who can claim that woman has gained more respect than before - if there claims to be one, I`d scream - liar.]

You would scream liar anyway, because it goes against your comfortable existence of being in denial. I know for a fact that had a man written this, your reaction would have been vastly different. None of the women on this board has objected, and they are perfectly cabable of doing so. I might add that had any of them done so, I would still oppose the view.

I really feel sorry it takes so little from women to bring humanity to doom.
- - -
#29 by BeeJay:

I am glad you read this differently each time!

I have already elaborated on certain aspects. But your para 3 & 4 are absolutely apt.

Having said that, there is no way I would discard the footnote. I took away the word Mumbai from the main body (in an earlier post I did mention this). A footnote is a stand-alone…you do not read it together with the poem.

While I appreciate your take, I would not go along with it. For me it had to end with “virgin whore”. No doubts on that one. I am afraid I am not as gracious as many others are, mainly because poetry is more than an intensely personal expression – it is a lived and died-with emotion. I respect other points of view, but, I am stubborn and possessive. You – as in anyone reading it – may rubbish the words, fight them, but the fact is that I have already devoured them.

“Mujhey khauf aatish-e-gul se hai
Ke kaheen chaman ko jalaa na de…”

Having completed my travel travails, I finally sat down with this poem and spent a little more time. I think I understand it a bit better and must revise some of my earlier remarks. (No wisecracks this time, and I’ll try my best to hold them in future, too! Also, no more “janitorial” stuff!)

It’s said that the third time is the lucky time. There may be something to that, since I read this poem quite differently now from the first two times. (Warning: no high-bro stuff from me. Also, I’m sorry if I have missed out anything.)

I see this as a (symbolic) comparison between the way things are for an individual and for the metropolis. Both are maligned by outsiders. Both carry scars of abuse and disillusionment from past promises made and broken. Both are also used as instruments to hurt others, by various seedy characters, for personal, political, or other narrow benefits. Neither really has a choice in the matter – except to make itself available (therefore the comparison with “whore”). Both get exploited. As in case of the individual, the ones which end up hurting the city the most are the ones which are supposedly closest to it – its supposed protectors.

Yet, both are capable of surprises. The surprise comes in form of the torrential rain in case of the city, and perhaps a supernatural ability to handle “deep” suffering in case of the individual. And only those who have truly suffered such pain can understand it – not those who merely simulate it – they would be the fakers. The rest of the poem, I believe simply elaborates these points more vividly.

I must admit that – even with my limited understanding – this stuff is very powerful!

The only change I would have recommended to this poem would be to dispense with the footnote (which explicitly mentions Mumbai and also kind of sticks out) in favor of perhaps a few additional lines that lead up to the city – so the poem becomes self-contained and ends on a more resolute note! My own trivial attempt would be like this –

“…Yes, virgin whore
So are – and stay
In eyes – that see
A whore – and more
Yet still – just stay
A life that’s love
And love that’ll last
For now – and ever
Mumbai – I’m you
And both – though rot
And down – though are
But out – are not!”

I think that it is in the divorce of the female from the mother/daughter/sister role that women (and by admittedly questionable extension, men) have truly been liberated. Hate to use pop symblosim here, but there`s a dialogue in Fight Club that goes something like, ``In losing everything, have we truly become something.`` When a woman`s nothing but, is when we`ve reached a point where she might mould herself into what she chooses, a point where respect is a consequence of HER, and not of her participation in established socio-communal machinery.
Stipped of its thin veneer, in this motehr/beti/etsetrca schema, respect comesnot from being human - being a woman, a bitch, but from being a maan/beti/whatnot. Lets respect a woman for being a woman, not for being a mother/daughter/sister. Let`s not let being a whore confer any disrespect on a woman. And let`s not letbeing a motehr confer any respect on her.
In any case, this poem just incredible...

Wow... My first time at chowk...
What a wonderful piece of art... so raw and powerful. I`m blown away.

Re: # 24 FV

If the descent of modern woman from being a mother, sister, wife, and daughter to merely a bitch is not a yardstick then what is. Logically, the next step of evolution of woman should have been one step above being a mother, sister, wife, and daughter and not that to a level of animal. If this is the progress and this is the modernization of woman has to offer then the humanity is doomed. lahol wila quwat. Is there a single woman on this forum who can claim that woman has gained more respect than before - if there claims to be one, I`d scream - liar.

This is brilliance by Ms Versey. Time for Nobel in literature?

shockthemonk:

Behold! Besides bread-butter benighted bodies brood...bees sting `b`s :)

urstruly:

You can ``lahol`` all you want...but what does ``no one can insult a woman more than a woman herself`` mean? Where is the insult? Some of us see a whore as a woman too, and we do not see them in a negative light. And what is the yardstick for judging ``more``? Are we to go by your male benchmark?

BeeJay:

[Even as the author uses (for her) “strong” words – in an apparent bid to provoke the reader – she fails completely since the outrage appears so half-hearted – with a ring of plaintiveness coming through loud and clear to the discerning reader.]

This just so sweet. It encapsulates the spirit of the poem -- the provocation being a thin crust holding beneath it the plaintiveness!

Jawahara:

I am glad you saw Mumbai in this. In fact, while I handwrote it first I did use the word Mumbai a couple of times, but then decided to leave it out.

[I think the last line though ``Yes, virgin whore,`` took me away from the intensity of the poem.]

Now, this is a disappointment. For me the whole basis was this term and what it stood for. You could say it was the skeleton on which the poem was fleshened out, and then I flash that skeleton again. I honestly did not think it would take away from the intensity...but you `read` well (and write even better), so let us just say it is difficult for me to let go off anything I love so obsessively!

sajal:

Thank you. Reality hurts, those who see it or are shown it...And where have you been?

Regards,
Farzana

Hi Farzana,

After a long absence I read your piece today and it completely blew me off.
It is a powerful potent dose of reality which we do not like to hear hence the lahul from not so truly.

FV, this was beautiful. It really gripped me and yes, I could see Mumbai in every nuance of this poem. I think the last line though ``Yes, virgin whore,`` took me away from the intensity of the poem. To me, that line was sort of hitting the reader over the head and it was not needed.

More poems please.

(Additional feedback)

Okay, I thought about this poem some more, after I had some free time and after considering the author’s earlier response, so here go my few additional thoughts on this poem. (Not that anybody asked for those thoughts, but I do exercise my rights to express my opinions – wisecracks notwithstanding!)

There is no other way to say it – in this poem, there is just too much emphasis on sex, exploitation, and the like – in fact it is overfilled with those ingredients – and little else. Accepting the author’s claim that this poem is about the metropolis (and I see no reason to disbelieve her, even though – if one were to be truthful – that’s not the first thing which comes to the mind upon the first reading (well, let’s not go there)), there is hardly any mention of the positive attributes of the metropolis. In her response, she refers to “my city” – almost sounding possessive of it – but let us face it – does she REALLY have any more exclusive right to that hellhole of humanity than its twelve plus million other inhabitants? Obviously, no – one would have to be truly deluded to believe that! This special bonding with a city – if there can indeed be such a thing – is highly one-sided and exists only in her mind and occurs only in fits and spurts – considering how often she has derided the same city in her past pieces of literary accomplishments which – unlike this example – have attracted interactors in droves – like marauding flies headed madly toward the sweets-store – driven by one, and only one desire – to gobble up pieces of those sweets – with little realization of the highly detrimental effect on health!

The poem appears almost super-saturated with an element of shrillness – shrillness which runs through it consistently – shrillness which takes away a lot – a lot which could have been done with it – making it virtually impossible to read into this poem any genuine cry for help, it appears more like an expression of simulated outrage! Even as the author uses (for her) “strong” words – in an apparent bid to provoke the reader – she fails completely since the outrage appears so half-hearted – with a ring of plaintiveness coming through loud and clear to the discerning reader.

Even the symbolism appears not carefully thought out. For example, let’s say Mumbai is the woman being talked to, but then it’s completely unclear who “they” could be – after all, if “they” represents individuals then “they” are inhabitants of the city, too – in fact a city has no separate identity of its own – a city is nothing but the combined entity of countless such individuals – so who is the accuser, who is the victim, and who is the criminal? They are all one – the city! It’s all so confusing – perhaps not by design, since the author may have been less than clear herself regarding what she really had in mind.

This reader sometimes feels that this author occasionally comes up with stuff like this just to confuse simple folks – stuff which apparently only her high-bro crowd of literary folks – who go “wah, wah” on every other word dropped by every other one of them, can understand or appreciate – or pretend to. If the author does not wish her work to remain exclusive to just such folks – if she wishes to extend her reach and the appeal of her work to simple folks too, shouldn’t she make a genuine attempt to come up with simpler analogies? The author needs to consider it!

Also, I hope the author does not mind my repeating some advice I suggested earlier and am feeling emboldened to repeat at this time (since I appear to be going so strong – and also since I am physically located a safe distance away out of reach – for projectiles (slippers, for example) to reach or hurt me). Therefore, I would like to suggest the following one more time – author, consider trying your hand at humor – perhaps something you have never done before (at least I can not seem to find it in your articles (irony, yes; ridicule, yes; humor, no!)).

The author needs to consider how to stop being so serious! That way, she can instantly generate a large number of favorably-disposed readers! In fact, becoming humorous would not require too much extra work compared to the amount of significant effort that she already appears to put into what she writes.

In fact, instead of just making general recommendations, let me go one step further and provide a concrete example of how it could be so easily done – let’s look at the following excerpt from her earlier article “The Dour Ascetic”.

“I also planned to dress for the man – I wore khadi.”

This line had SO much potential! If only she were to rewrite it the humorous way I suggested – then she would have made just one small change so it would read –

“I also planned to dress for the man – I wore khadi (good thing he was not a Digambar Jain ascetic)!”

You see, just one little change and the whole effect vastly improves. Instead of her laughing alone at whatever the current object of ridicule is – everyone would be laughing with her! Instead of sounding self-conscious and appearing full of self-puffery, that line would turn into self-deprecating humor. (Of course, nobody would actually think the ridiculous thought that she would REALLY have done anything outrageous along those lines (Tauba!))

Just the thoughts of a simple janitor!

Re: # 18
Your point being? Never mind and that ``lahol`` should confirm the fact that you are an honourable man.

FV
hmmmm,so,you would be out of room,errrr(slip of tongue) I mean,out of closet.