Nalini Priyadarshni writes

We Are The Wild Things

We are the wild things

that grew up too soon 

and submitted to taming, only to be

haunted by dreams of wilderness the rest of our lives

We are the wild things 

that looked wide eyed at the ordered world 

and let it entice us with the fallacy 

that perfect is better than good

We are the wild things

that fell in love with moon

and thought shackles are garlands

that all lovers must be adorned with

We are the wild things 

that wore their yokes of charity

with Dunkirk-spirit

but longed to fly away every night

We are the wild things 

that survived the banality of wont

and found a way to sow our oats 

hitching a ride on whirlwinds

We are the wild things

lathered with wild honey and hibiscus pollen

waggle dancing in forest fire

heedless, pinned against time

We are the wild things

that refused to be tamed 

cleaving to our wantonness

as our last act of charity

Shackles of Nature --  Anika Nagpal

Nalini Priyadarshni writes

Confessions of a Philophile

A new ecstasy takes root every time I think of you
blooming into a jungle of exhilaration
redolent with shenanigans

Stripping subterfuge on muggy afternoons
we plunge into ourselves
let go of the world as we know it

Hold our breath as we explore our allness
right from the shallowness of our skin
to the deepest end of our beings

Unfettered by fears of going under
we fondle the precious in us
unleashing the joy in spurts

You were not the first
you won't be last
for I become love
every time I think of you

 temple relief at Khajuraho, Madhya Pradesh, India

Nalini Priyadarshni writes

Ananku

Femininity that goes unaccepted remains unforgiving

Vengeance of Kamakhya in the month of Ashaad

Brahmaputra devoid of ichor

Corroding muliebrity till it shrivels into a vestigial flicker

Decades later, when lovers celebrate your womanhood

you fail to find beauty in yourself

no matter how long you gaze at the mirror

reflecting your glistening nakedness

after the vigor of copulation

Half hearted attempts to love what you could not accept

do nothing to assuage the annihilation

you fostered in the pit of your womb

sown by the discontent of your mother at your birth

reiterated into a receptacle of guilt

that outweighs rings of smoke you blow

by rolling joints of any self esteem accrued

despite waging endless war with hirsutism

We don’t always get to choose our battles

Certainly not those that start with

a blade wedged against our necks  

But end them we must, with Shakta striding atop

Femininity that goes unaccepted remains unforgiving

Ananku - Female sexual power vested in menarche and mensuration, mostly considered dangerous and something to be controlled. 

Kamakhya - The Bleeding Goddess. The mythical womb and vagina of Shakti are supposedly installed in the 'Garvagriha' or sanctum of the temple. In the month of Ashaad (June), the goddess bleeds or menstruates. At this time, the Brahmaputra river near Kamakhya turns red. The temple then remains closed for 3 days and holy water is distributed among the devotees of Kamakhya devi. There is no scientific proof that the blood actually turns the river red. Some people say that the priests pour vermilion into the waters. But symbolically, menstruation is the symbol of a woman's creativity and power to give birth. So, the deity and temple of Kamakhya celebrates this 'shakti' or power within every woman.

Shakta - Female part of divinity