Showing posts with label surmayikhatana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surmayikhatana. Show all posts

Friday, 30 December 2022

Teen Belle Magazine

Teen Belle Magazine was introduced to the world in 2019 with the aim, "flourish, educate, and rebel".  A volunteer-based magazine. It was founded by Sam, one of the best poets I knew and the nicest person to work with. 

Here are the articles I wrote for them. 


A Mirror in a Doll's House

A review of A Doll’s House, a three-act play by Henrik Ibsen. Published in 1879, at a time when the first wave of feminism was hitting the shore, the Norwegian playwright’s work brought about extensive debates about ‘The Woman Question’. 


Ghosts in the Archives

Exploring the 'male as norm' principle and the erasure of women in history. A brief exploration of the Matilda Effect. 


A brief history of women's cricket in India.


Women Led Movements : The Spirit Comes Naturally

Protests and strikes led by women along with how their rebellion interacts with patriarchy.


Marble and Pedestals: Of Accountability and Symbolism

The toppling of statues that 2020 saw, the symbolism of demolition and accountability in history. 


Wednesday, 10 November 2021

bleeding-heart

My father’s demons lap the back of my eyes

Drinking in the dreary sights 

Breathing out fire

They live right here


Most mornings I wake with

A stab wound in my chest

Grave grey gargoyles

Gaggling in the garden I call my body


I am sorry, I think my heart is bleeding


Dozens of days I spend looking 

For threads to stitch me up

The shock of the metal cutting

My flesh is fresh


The edge of the knife is dull

I lost my edge too

A single slow thought you can cull out

Rattling in the depths of my skull


I forget why I was finding the thread 

Stitching a shift out of my shroud

Swaddled in the cloth of dread


I am sorry, I think my heart is bleeding


Watching warped videos 

On television sets in a store

Like a vulture 

Each screen slightly different


I never learnt to see myself

I put on a show for an invisible audience

They laugh, they cry

My blood runs dry


I am sorry, I think my heart is bleeding