Beneath Their stare

By Dr. Mamatha Suthar

I walked through the city streets — vast, endless, waiting to be explored.

Yet with every step, I felt eyes on me — like tentacles wrapping around my skin, leaving me in a state of unease.

I adjusted my kurta, the fabric a fragile armour against a world trying to pierce through my clothes.

The experience burrowed deep into my soft heart, leaving behind traces of fear.

Dreams became haunted by the echoes of those stares — my subconscious, a canvas stained with anxiety.

I once wished to be a blooming flower, unfolding myself to the warmth of the sun.

But I felt my soul being jagged by the creeping shadows that followed me.

Though my family is my beacon, how do I explain the weight of this trauma?

We walk — they stare.

We travel — they follow.

The words echoed in my mind like a litany of frustration and helplessness.

How could I compete with these shadows, these fears that scream in my ears?

I yearn to fly — to soar on the wings of wisdom and empowerment —

but the world seems determined to keep me grounded, pinned down by the relentless gaze of others.

How do I escape this tragedy?

How do I explain this feeble feeling?

How do I tell them I am not a material to be looked upon like this?

How am I supposed to stop this?

Yet even beneath their stare,I remind myself 

I am not what they see.

I am what I choose to become.

By Dr. Mamatha Suthar