Behenchara

Behenchara

“I have always wanted children, but now that I’m about to get married to the love of my life, I don’t want to. Everything is dying and going to shit, What is the point of it? But I’d be lying if I said a part of me doesn’t actually want a child…”

Dear Appa, I have a problem thats eating me up very bad. And its something noone around me can help me with.    All my life I was convinced I wanted to have children but then I grew up in this society and now my mind is changing. Im about to get married to the …

“I have always wanted children, but now that I’m about to get married to the love of my life, I don’t want to. Everything is dying and going to shit, What is the point of it? But I’d be lying if I said a part of me doesn’t actually want a child…” Read More »

Women Ask Directions to a Place Where We Can Feel Safe

Artwork by Misha Ali (@nicenichecartoons) Excuse me Sir, will you be kind enough to point us to a direction where we can feel safe, where our bodies do not feel like  crimes waiting to be committed, where hungry eyes don’t follow  us like we are the next prey in a long assembled line  where our hands do not need  to clutch pepper sprays and cars keys like weapons as a last resort (because you know what I mean)  and our lips are not numb from repeating Surah Yaseen on hundreds of prayer beads. Tell me where should we go in order to exist without becoming another rape or violence statistic?   We have lived for far too long  in a society where our choices become crimes that we have to pay for by bleaching their sins of our skin,  by walking into the light at all times even if it means blinding our eyes; everyone knows that  darkness is an open invite for monsters to hide in plain sight. At the age of 17 I have started to fear for my life, for my future, for innocence  that might be stolen but most of all I fear for the justice we are not being given.   We are a a generation of women  whose mothers have sewn silence into  our mouths like a first language and our tongues have become lead from lack of use because we were told that men might not hurt the mute, our smiles are rusted and bruised  since if they are used someone might confuse and abuse it as a sign of consent.  Us teenage girls with silent rebellions and switch blades tucked in our purses, Us women with chains around our necks and anger that doesn’t burn anything  other than ourselves let alone the patriarchy.   What does it mean to have a home? How will we know when we are told that our bodies are the ones that  …

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Can you hear me

Art by Arisha (@sitaradoodles) “Can you hear me?”  “Yeah, can you?” “Yep.”    We said those mundane statements  All the time.  Never really put any thought into it After all, it was just clarification  If we could see and hear.  Right?    But that day was different.  I woke up with northern downpour in my …

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Dear Jism

Artwork by Ayesha Sultan (@meat_eating.orchids) To my body, mera jism.  I am sorry. I am sorry for my unkindness towards you, for all the times that I abandoned you when you yelled for help.  At eight, as you squirmed in disgust when Qaari Sahb touched but you were too young to process what he was …

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Poems

Artwork by her @everrglo.w Poem 1: Aesthetics-In Tongues / My body has aesthetics A taste/ A style it abide’s with me.   But the aesthetics diminish I have been led on, On the tracks/ in the shoes of same brand It doesn’t works with me-the brand Yet I’m forced to walk(in them) The world i felt on my shoulders It conspired against me,  My aesthetics  Are just accessories? Accessories of the same brand,   I’m forced to embrace? I was brought in the world just so I can be an accessory? What about my aesthetics, aren’t they really what makes me distinctive?   My body has aesthetics  A taste/ A style it abide’s with me. But I lost it.   Poem 2: Air of Patriarchy   lingering and breathing in air of patriarchy. Posters of grief, aur ye unkahi baatein crumbled under your footsteps.  life that accepted man’s actions and repelled women’s azaadi- Footsteps towards takabur. Birth of the lost boy who was taught love but defined envy within the char deevari. You called it a jung, while the torment sweeps away the dead remains of aurat aur uski izzat. Aurat to bus aurat hai,  kisi kinaare per toot pari Yahi dil behta chala gaya  Raaste, ye waade sub jhaar gaye Aur lehro mein iski izaat doob    Bakhtawar I’m Bakhtawar Azhar 16 years old currently …

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