#Metoo, Me three, Me four
Let the silences unschackle and make a way for an outpour.

That brutal gaze, that unwanted touch, those lewd remarks,
With a sly smile, mock laughter or those numerous fake pleas.

In dark alleys, on morning runs,
in a broad daylight bazaar, amidst ganpati processions.

That builder in slippers on the train , the whats his name lad drowning in perfume at the bar, the man in a suit with a fancy car.

Empty promises, emotional blackmail or unwarranted threats,
Sober or drunk, in isolation or crowded streets.

My chiffon sari, my friend’s floral dress, my sisters short skirt
Will tell you the same story of vulnerability,
Of burning rage, of unspoken words, of moral guilt trips, of repressed shame.
Ofcourse, the person responsible was
Only Me.

With no safe place to disclose, hush your tone, what will They think, it happens, you will fall flat on your nose.

Time we address a change and create an uproar.
Because it has been MeToo, Me Three and Me Four.

17 October 2017