Mention Not

By Sneha

"will they listen to me?

if they listen, will they believe me?

and my heart whispered - mention not!"

"will they listen to me?

if they listen, will they believe me?

and my heart whispered - mention not!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto Publishing
• Release date: Jul 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9789361728266

Book preview

Mention not

sneha

Ukiyoto Publishing

All global publishing rights are held by

Ukiyoto Publishing

Published in 2023

Content Copyright © Sneha

ISBN

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

poetry is possible only with people who love or hurt you and i thank both.

Introduction

i thought dirt under fingernails was normal,

listened to all problems, then took it casual

ate sugarcanes by the fields,

blessings were the only shields.

i quickly predicted what would happen in my grandmother's story.

i always did but never wanted to bow to patriarchal culture and its glory.

going to school on foot and returning home on foot was routine.

doing nothing was the hobby, pointless talks with friends at the river’s bank added the bling

made a model of my future home from the sands,

when there was nothing to play with, i made paper and clay toys with my hands

i used to doze off by 8 pm,

i used to look at snakes and lizards with curiosity,

and getting even more curious to know if we can die from its venom

used to wake up before sunrise,

used to think that more talks can make you wise

played without toys,

laughed without reason,

celebrated without any occasion,

felt like a princess without any mansion,

grew up without needing attention.

mention not, is a passionate expression of my journey. it is a collection of those challenges and limits i experienced, dreams, and moments i cherished from childhood to survive. being born in a rural area, where health and education are a dream of most, i used to wonder why it is so difficult to live and why there are so many challenges we have to face every day. why can’t life be easier if not fully favorable for us? i lived my days and nights surrounded by these ‘why;’ some got answered, and some still reside in me.

this anthology talks about the world which i see, people in my surrounding, fellow women and their experiences, my relations, my family and how it impacts my life, and about the world which i wish i could have lived in, the kind of environment, relations and support i dream for.

this collection is not meant to ridicule or exploit anybody but to reach someone who struggles to make choices to cope with what life throws at them. i know you will not agree with me on everything; we all live with various places, people, and perceptions, and that is something i welcome.

contents

1-13

14-27

28-40

about the author

1-13

in the park, in the backyard, inside the well, on top of the dump heap or at the riverside. at so many unusual places can her presence be easily sensed. the grass you are walking on, the flower you are holding, the land you are standing on, is as lovely as it is because it was, one day, fertilized by a pure soul like hers. her eyes never saw anything outside the watery womb. her noses never inhaled mothers’ sweaty armpits. her lips never got a chance to speak. her body, wrapped in various pieces of cloth, were lucky enough to feel the warmth of the first and the last person who held her. buried not so deeply in the soil, like so many others, she does not feel lonely here.

their creators were different, the