When God carved Eve 

Out of Adam’s rib,

it was gross injustice!

Parity was murdered

In the name of companionship.

And the suppression continues:

Emotional, mental, physical.

Eve is a wife 

Yet she cries!

Eve is a mother

Yet she cries!

Eve is a daughter

Yet she cries!

Eve is a sister

Yet she cries!

Why did you carve

The apt from the inapt Lord?

What design was that

Conceptualised equivalent

For a woman,

Which never happened.

Today this injustice is the Great Flood !

And that flood sums nothing

To the upheavals 

In the woman’s breast;

That flood was naught 

Compared to the tears and schisms

In woman’s template covers.

That flood mowed nothing

To what contemporary Adam

Has achieved,

Mowing today’s Eve,

to smoking peat.

This is not a feminist speak,

For one in two figures

Cut out their heart,

The chakras all mushy dark,

Throat choked to a poisonous blue

Red spiralling out from roots.

From where comes this strength

To outpour raw nakedness,

Certainly not from Adam!

He is a good keeper 

Of the self,

Priceless humanist

Recording victories, 

Recording trophies

Recording skulls

Recording wrung out hearts!

The story can go on 

For ages, centuries

For universes untold

Till it becomes 

Brahmas’ play

Shivas’ Tandav

Durgas’ lion;

The beads scatter

Waiting for someone

To gather!!