White He earns high salary, Wakes up at 5, Gets ready for his work In an expensive suit and tie. His wife prepares his breakfast, Adds few extra muffins. Takes good care of his health, Cooking high-protein meals for tiffin. His daughter says Hi and Bye Everytime he leaves and returns, For her, he is a superhero because Whenever she calls, he promptly runs. His mother isn't with him anymore, But everything he has done. She must live on in his memories, He seems like a dutiful son. Until it's an unfamiliar woman Whom he can't judge, Doesn't treat her with the same respect And he sometimes does fudge. I don't know if it's a trait Or a habit we've normalised, But all women in the world Should be equally recognized. Whether she is yours or not, she exists, For someone, she is special. We need to change this And stop being partial. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White I must tell you, Now I write at 2 AM. I don't shake at night, I don't erase my poem. My hair are short And my eyes are still brown. Nobody ever looked at them They only checked if I had a Crown. I learned so much last year And I'm working on my book. I collect everything in my diary, Every piece of mine that you took. You don't read them anymore, The poetries I still write for you. So listen, I must tell you, I'm not the girl you once knew. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White I travel back to the 80s And I see a little boy. He is working in a field, There isn't any toy. I see a bright figure, Small but shining tall. I see someone next to him, then it makes sense and all. I realise it's his uncle Normalising many things for him, Like shouting at his wife And holding her at whim. They don't have a daughter So I guess he didn't learn, How to love a woman And how to blow on her burn. Later, at worst, he adds salt, Thinking it would be better. But this is not a recipe So his thoughts don't matter. He forgot to love And he will never understand. He will always feel inferior Whenever a woman takes a stand. And though he'll be great, He will not be satisfied. He will hurt many... His actions, cruel, yet glorified. And yet he will be called A Man. The false definitions will not change. She'll always be stepped over, They will always call her strange. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White We have similar hobbies So I thought you'd understand. If I can't write anymore, Tell me what can I do and... Will I still dream About skies and the sea? Will I work on myself And the person I want to be? Will I be a happy kid Like I pretend I am now? Will I manage my success If I do succeed somehow? Will I be patient and poised To talk to people without fear? If I ever need someone, Will they still be near? The world I didn't care about When I had my pen and diary, What happens when I am not me? Do I have to worry? ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White Mango Apple Banana Grapes Watermelon ©....Anym

....Anym

White He earns high salary, Wakes up at 5, Gets ready for his work In an expensive suit and tie. His wife prepares his breakfast, Adds few extra muffins. Takes good care of his health, Cooking high-protein meals for tiffin. His daughter says Hi and Bye Everytime he leaves and returns, For her, he is a superhero because Whenever she calls, he promptly runs. His mother isn't with him anymore, But everything he has done. She must live on in his memories, He seems like a dutiful son. Until it's an unfamiliar woman Whom he can't judge, Doesn't treat her with the same respect And he sometimes does fudge. I don't know if it's a trait Or a habit we've normalised, But all women in the world Should be equally recognized. Whether she is yours or not, she exists, For someone, she is special. We need to change this And stop being partial. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White I must tell you, Now I write at 2 AM. I don't shake at night, I don't erase my poem. My hair are short And my eyes are still brown. Nobody ever looked at them They only checked if I had a Crown. I learned so much last year And I'm working on my book. I collect everything in my diary, Every piece of mine that you took. You don't read them anymore, The poetries I still write for you. So listen, I must tell you, I'm not the girl you once knew. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White I travel back to the 80s And I see a little boy. He is working in a field, There isn't any toy. I see a bright figure, Small but shining tall. I see someone next to him, then it makes sense and all. I realise it's his uncle Normalising many things for him, Like shouting at his wife And holding her at whim. They don't have a daughter So I guess he didn't learn, How to love a woman And how to blow on her burn. Later, at worst, he adds salt, Thinking it would be better. But this is not a recipe So his thoughts don't matter. He forgot to love And he will never understand. He will always feel inferior Whenever a woman takes a stand. And though he'll be great, He will not be satisfied. He will hurt many... His actions, cruel, yet glorified. And yet he will be called A Man. The false definitions will not change. She'll always be stepped over, They will always call her strange. ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White We have similar hobbies So I thought you'd understand. If I can't write anymore, Tell me what can I do and... Will I still dream About skies and the sea? Will I work on myself And the person I want to be? Will I be a happy kid Like I pretend I am now? Will I manage my success If I do succeed somehow? Will I be patient and poised To talk to people without fear? If I ever need someone, Will they still be near? The world I didn't care about When I had my pen and diary, What happens when I am not me? Do I have to worry? ©Anagha Ukaskar

Anagha Ukaskar

White Mango Apple Banana Grapes Watermelon ©....Anym

....Anym