- Vol. 04
- Chapter 04
Image by National Museum of Denmark
RIGHTSIDE WRONGYou may turn me inside out, outside in, pull me topsy-turvy, or hurl me up and above, down and below. But you can never prove my right side wrong and your wrong side right. I may look malleable, adaptable, flexible and gullible, but when it comes to my desires and the rights to those desires, I am unmovable. I will bend and fold to slip through a fissure, and widen it into an open alley for more like me. The more you twist my arm and pin it behind my back, the more I know of the cold wind that I can brave upon my open exposed chest. The whip that crushes my spirit and the fist that crunches my wrist, do not know that my hand can also turn around to smack the face, but I choose to smother instead. You may holler at me in the kitchen, cuss me on the bed, warn me in the shop or shout at me on the cross-roads, but my whisper of mutiny, of redemption, will roar the loudest. My curves are not made of delicacy, but carved out of strenuous activity. They are not for your eyes to slip on them, but for my efforts to rise up on them, and make me a string wound around a guitar, taut to play the music, to dictate the notes to the world. The shine in my eyes is from hot fumes of molten perseverance that gushes through my veins, while I look like a waterfall rolling down a gleeful dale. Do not be fooled by the elevation of my lip-ends, it is not a smile of innocence but a smirk mocking your wise ignorance. You may banish me, but I shall thrive to challenge every restriction and defy every ratification.
But if you decide to cherish me, nurture me and make space for me, I won’t be forced into a hand-stand to create my own identity. Our life will be a melodious symphony- a sweet melisma to follow a meend, a hand to link another hatheli - and humanity to uphold sanctity.