We rise high, with our breasts held as weapons to the sky,
Tracing history, and its consequences
How grandmother tells stories of once upon a shomaj
that was accepting and safe,
where the fresh signature of breath could be felt
and how things changed drastically
But now we have come out from ondormohols and harems,
we have come out of the woods, rising to powers,
smashing the structures of inequality,
We are emerging like portrayals of Shakti,
like Kali rising to an inexorable zest to fight all disparities.
We are coming out of the swishing silences and the hush of the forests,
we are coming out of the palkis,
the paragon perfection of how
we ought to be put forward by paradigms of society
We are galvanising the spaces and
places of residence, changing the so-called norms,
we are storming and forming, rejuvenating the world to a light,
brilliantly bright
We are learning to stride forward and own our rights.