RETARD

This poem is a deeply personal and emotional reflection on the labels and judgments women endure, often imposed by a society steeped in misogyny. From a young age, I’ve been vocal against the derogatory terms and stereotypes used to demean women, particularly those who have been victims of abuse. I remember standing up for a woman who had been sexually abused in her youth, only to be dismissed as “PAGAL” when her suffering led to a mental imbalance. Even as a child who had faced molestation like countless women, I understood how one traumatic incident could leave a lasting scar on a person’s psyche.

This awareness made me fiercely protective of children, regardless of their gender. It also sharpened my insight into the hypocrisy of some men—those who insult and demean the daughters of others while demanding respect for their own families. These actions reflect deep-rooted misogyny, where men fail to see how their behaviour violates the nurturing instincts of women and perceive any retaliation as irrational or unwarranted.

What is the point, then, of men who chant, “अम्बे तू है जगदम्बे काली, जय दुर्गे खप्पर वाली, तेरे ही गुण गावें भारती, ओ मैया हम सब उतारे तेरी आरती,” when they have zero respect for women in everyday life? They glorify the divine feminine with their words but fail to embody that reverence in their actions. The truth is, the harm done to a woman is not just a disrespect to her—it’s an affront to their own mothers and to the divine feminine they claim to revere.

To women, I urge you: to stop competing in the disgusting fields of these men or using newfound liberty and empowerment to imitate their ways. Know your true worth, for you are not here just to create life—but to create life itself. Don’t diminish your essence to fit into a world that fails to honour the depth of your power and the sacredness of your being. Embrace your inherent strength and stand firm in your truth.

They call you a RETARD,

Claiming you're far too slow,

While they race like a DARTER,

Chasing wealth with nowhere to go.

They deal in trust like a TRADER,

Tossing lives for a quick exchange,

They’ve TARED you down to ashes,

And RATED you as something strange.

They think themselves a godly RATER,

A shining DATER in the dark,

Yet they laugh at your quiet DREAR,

While you bear the weight of their mark.

They mock you when you shed a TEAR,

But RATE you for your pain,

READ your story through shallow eyes,

And twist it with their truth and DARE.

They clutch the ones they call DEAR,

And TARE the rest without a care,

Building lives with no glance REAR,

Calling your truth RARE, unaware.

They breed like a RAT in shadows,

Throwing TAR to blot your name,

But when you call them to account,

Their RED face reveals their shame.

They sip on the TEA of others' lives,

Think they’re so RAD, refined,

Yet turn a deaf EAR to real issues,

Calling it ART to cross the line.

And so they brand you a RETARD,

Twisting means to shred you apart,

But you know the truth, in every shard,

You're the one with the human heart.