The Walls I Dare Not Climb
- 2 days ago
- 2 min read
Originally published in The Madras Courier
From cradle to a home we built with care,
Me and my husband, our lovely pair.
Brick by brick, we built the walls,
Those that stand mighty and all.
Sometimes I dream of climbing them,
But fear engulfs me of a deadly mayhem.
I try every day, at times too hard,
I serve, I slave, yet end up scarred.
Baba said I was born a warrior,
Rising beyond shame and barriers.
The war of birth I bravely won,
In marriage I fail, courage, I have none.
Don’t be mistaken, I’m smart,
Housewife I am, but with a passion for art.
In a small basement where the stairs lead,
Hidden away from the rest, my art breeds.
Yes, I do paint, I paint quite well,
In my stories, women freely dwell.
They read, they dance, and come alive,
They have what I can’t aspire to strive.
A door of opportunities awaits me,
My 30-year-old self wants to break free.
No temptation I must carry, no dreams,
No whining on beatings, no screams.
In his shrine I abode, oh dear,
I reside for love, not fear.
Most days is harmony, some is noise.
Gentle I stay, for provocation destroys.
From cradle to a home I built with love,
With my younger self, hand in glove.
Brick by brick, I erected the walls,
Of a house, that was not mine at all.
About Madras Courier
The Madras Courier is the first newspaper to be established in the Madras Presidency, British India. Published on October 12, 1785, it was the leading newspaper of its time. Selling for a princely sum of one rupee, it thrived for three decades. Two centuries later, this legacy is revived digitally. Today, the Madras Courier serves a global audience of curious, intelligent readers interested in South Asian affairs. We curate interesting stories that enhance our understanding of the world in meaningful ways.