Jyothy Sreedhar




May it be a nuance

of the syllabic silence

in femaleness.


May it be the roaring

of the stars to my destiny,

breaking apart

the columns and rows

by what is known as


the ultimate decision.


In this society that makes me ‘female’,

in this horoscope that makes me a drawing,

or in destiny that disowns me often-

where have my breaths hidden?


Do I exist,

apart from being

a burdened genre?


I doubt…


Again a thunder!