Kartikey Sehgal

On being asked what ‘what people do at an auto-expo’, and not willing to speak, I wrote the following on some napkins: 

let us go to an auto expo
scratch our chins
and act informed.

like in a fashion show,
which is a gift to hypocrisy
where we watch the models
but ogle at the fabrics

let us discuss 
engines and powers - 
not of the model,
who sashays around the bonnet
moving hers in style, - 
but of the car

let us take photos of the machine
and once in a while tilt the camera,
and act in despair,
for the car’s curves
have been lost
to the model’s.

let us hate
the objectification of women
as we point out 
to the model
again
and again
while talking - 
‘what have those creamy thighs
with a few minute moles on them
which are admittedly juicy
got to do 
with cars.
do aroused men buy more cars?’

a few lines about women issues
let us then walk…

let us then walk to the model
and ask - 
‘excuse me, who can give me more information?’
staring at her face,
and as she points out the person,
stealing glances
here and there.

Then when a representative asks,
‘may I help you’
you go to the washroom instead.

let us go to an auto expo
where you can’t afford a single car

Source

Kartikey Sehgal

It takes only 2 photos to understand. Plus, enjoy the poem at the end.

This is slutwalk-Delhi’s founder Umang Sabarwal’s Facebook profile photo [edit: changed today]. And this is what the movement is really about.   

[the smileys are my creations]

Sometimes, fun things indicate much more.

Male-shaming

Starts at school. Makes minions out of men.

This is:

a. a regular photo. nothing to read into.

b. a photo designed to imply servility – man looking up to woman

c. role-reversal: woman as ‘Romeo’ taking the eve-teasing stance

d. a photo designed to show the much maligned ‘male-gaze’

a tough man said to his gal, “what bothers you lady?”
’the trees are too high, the birds eat the fruit, the clouds don’t listen to my song. I want to play.’- the lady told him.

the tough man told her – “cheer up. I’ll play with you”.
Then he bent, and the little girl pulled his cheeks and spoiled his hair and pinched him and laughed.

“I liked what just happened. I think I will grow up and start a slutwalk movement”

The man frowned and proceeded to smack her bottom.

“Stop”. the girl shrieked. “I was just joking”.

The s-walk poem. [or what the movement is really about]

So bored are lady beings
All they want is lovely weengs
To fly high in the sky
And then say ‘Oh my’!

I am being repressed
Solidly un-dressed
By their menacing eyes

But I am so wise
I will throw in their eyes
Chilly powder and curd

Men are bastards
Men are bastards.

Kartikey Sehgal

Fragrant flowers along the river
let their fragrance bathe us
we are at one with oblivion
till human voices wake us

the boat, it rows, a-lone.
the poets walk the shore
the boat passes –

time is anathema to life
and the flowers take a lifetime
to fill our hearts with joy
we are at one with oblivion
till human voices wake us

the bird, it flies, a-far.
the poets walk the shore
the bird passes –

- often chirping songs of joy
calls of flight to people.
we, though, are singers of our souls
our walk is rhythm to song
let us be –
- we are at one with oblivion
till human voices wake us

P.S: Do you like the poems? Tell the writers that you do and they’ll eat well

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Some more poems of Benita and Shaival will appear the next time