Meena Quotes

I did," Henric said, with a triumphant look.
"Oh," Meena said, opening the book to the page 74, the one from her dream. "You mean this
prince?" She pointed at the illustration of Lucifer.
Henric's grin faltered slightly. "Precisely."
"He's not a prince," Meena said. "As you know perfectly well, he's a fallen angel. And what was
Lucien's mother?"
"A p-princess," Henric stammered. But there was terror in his eyes.
"No," Lucien said, shaking his head. "She was an angel."
Meena swung around to look at him. Tears glittered in her eyes as she gazed up into his, which
had gone back to their normal deep brown.
"Yes, Lucien," she said, holding the book open in front of him. "That's why Henric was trying to
keep this from you. Because he realized it was the one thing that might help you remember what your
mother always taught you. You, of all people, really do have a choice. You can choose to be good . . .
because you are part good. No matter how hard you try to be the devil's son, you've still got an angel for
a mother. ~ Meg Cabot

The implicit social contract is that upper-class girls will keep their virtue, while young men will find satisfaction in the brothels. And the brothels will be staffed with slave girls trafficked from Nepal or Bangladesh or poor Indian villages. As long as the girls are uneducated, low-caste peasants like Meena, society will look the other way - just as many antebellum Americans turned away from the horrors of slavery because the people being lashed looked different from them. ~ Nicholas D. Kristof

I am the woman who is willing to display her scars and put them within exhibition frames. I am the madwoman of moon days. I am the breast-beating woman who howls. I am the woman who wills the skies to weep in my place. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Hope - as the cliché goes - is the last thing to disappear. I sometimes wish it had abandoned me first, with no farewell note or goodbye hug, and forced me to act. ~ Meena Kandasamy

What you went through is horrible. I'm not disputing it.'

'Okay. So?'

'Just that this man whom you depicted - it was like he was a monster. The sum total of all the evil things in the world.'

'No, I never said that.'

'But that's how it came across.'

'That's not what I intended. It was his violence. That's all.'

Here's a friend asking me if there was nothing redeemable about my ex-husband. I do not know how to justify myself. What do I tell people like him, who want a balanced picture, who want to know that this was a real person with a rainbow side, just so that they are reminded of their own humanity?

I realize that this is the curse of victimhood, to feel compelled to lend an appropriate colour of goodness to their abuser. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Everything is so precariously held together here that you might want a helping hand. Nobody is going to teach you that right after a harvest, poorly paid labourers were hungry enough to smoke out rodent holes and steal back the grains of paddy pilfered by rats. But you will manage. You will learn to relate without family trees. You will learn to make do without a village map. You will learn that criminal landlords can break civil laws to enforce caste codes. You will learn that handfuls of rice of rice can consume half a village. You will loafer learn that in the eyes of the law, the rich are incapable of soiling their hands with either mud or blood. You will learn to wait for revenge with the patience of a village awaiting rain. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Sometimes the shame is not the beatings, not the rape.
The shaming is in being asked to stand judgment. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Of all the things we could have said to the people of other planets, we chose to fire into space a capsule containing the model for the double helix structure, the composition of DNA and the formation of nucleotides. Not a message that declared: it is sunny here it also rains a lot we love colours and dope we sign and we dance we cook up a storm with anything we can find we are fucked up in too many ways but we are a funny bunch so may we request the pleasure of your company ~ Meena Kandasamy

This poem declares the absence of a Hindu canon.
This poem declares itself the Hindu canon.
This poem follows the monkey.
This poem worships the horse.
This poem supersedes the Vedas and the supreme scriptures.
This poem does not culture the jungle.
This poem jungles the culture.
This poem storms into temples with tanks.
This poem stands corrected: the RSS is BJP's mother.
This poem is not vulnerable.
This poem is Section 153-A proof.
This poem is also idiot-proof.
This poem quotes Dr.Ambedkar.
This poem considers Ramayana a hetero-normative novel.
This poem breaches Section 295A of the Indian Penile Code.
This poem is pure and total blasphemy. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Meena wasn't sure which she found more disturbing: that she'd been hunting her ex-boyfriend's murderous wife with a hair dryer beneath the streets of Manhattan, or that when she opened her eyes after having been knocked unconscious by this person, she realized she'd been rescued by another one of her ex-boyfriends. ~ Meg Cabot

Like most young Annawadians, the girls considered the caste obsession of their elders to be an irrelevant artifact. Manju and Meena had become friends because they both loved to dance, and stayed friends because they could keep each other's secrets. ~ Katherine Boo

I see his eyes where petals part
tired, remote, another coast. ~ Meena Alexander

The act of writing, it seems to me, makes up a shelter, allows space to what would otherwise be hidden, crossed out, mutilated. Sometimes writing can work toward a reparation, making a sheltering space for the mind. Yet it feeds off ruptures, tears in what might otherwise seem a seamless, oppressive fabric. ~ Meena Alexander

You have a big man's never she tells him. You need a old man's patience. ~ Meena Kandasamy

the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in the classroom. ~ Meena Srinivasan

The problem with thinking up a new and original idea within a novel is that you have to make sure that Kurt Vonnegut did not already think of it. ~ Meena Kandasamy

The future has no memory of your past or present. You are free to make it anything you choose. So make it great! ~ Meena Sarine

I never understood rape until it happened to me. It was a concept- of savagery, of violence, of disrespect. I had read my share of Kate Millet and Susan Brownmiller but nothing prepared me for how to handle it. Within a marriage, fighting back has consequences. The man who rapes me is not a stranger who runs away. The man who rapes me is not the silhouette in the car park, he is not the masked assaulter, he is not the acquaintance who has spiked my drinks. He is someone who wakes up next to me. He is the husband for whom I make coffee the following morning. He is the husband who can shrug it away and tell me to stop imagining things. He is the husband who can blame his action on unbridled passion the next day, while I hobble from room to room.
I begin to learn that there are no screams that are loud enough to make my husband stop. There are no scream that cannot be silenced by the shock of a tight slap. There is no organic defence that can protect against penetration. He covers himself with enough lubricant to slide part my resistance. My legs go limp. I come apart. ~ Meena Kandasamy

Sometime life is full of joy,and sometime life is full of pain and tears
but we have to defeat it ~ Meena Khan

This poem is a witness to the rape of Shurpanaka.
This poem smears Rama for his suspicious mind.
This poem was once forced into suttee.
This poem is now taking her revenge.
This poem is addicted to eating beef.
This poem knows the castes of all the thirty-three million Hindu Gods.
This poem got court summons for switching the castes of Gods.
This poem once dated Karna who was sure he was no test-tube baby.
This poem is not curious about who-was-the-father.
This poem is horizontally flipped.
This poem is a plagiarised version.
This poem is selectively chosen.
This poem is running paternity tests on Hindutva. ~ Meena Kandasamy

In the poem, there is always that present moment which is terribly important through which memory works. ~ Meena Alexander

I think what you know in a language shows who you are in relation to that language. Not an instance of language shaping your worldview, but its obtuse inverse, where your worldview shapes what parts of the language you pick up. Not just : your language makes you, your language holds you prisoner to a particular way of looking at the world. But also : who you are determines what language you inhabit, the prison-house of your existence permits you only to access and wield some parts of a language. ~ Meena Kandasamy

who knows what will happen tomorrow or next ~ Meena Khan

This One True Love - which flourished for two, three years - left me wounded. I spent months scooped in bed, howling my heart out. In learning to forget him, I had to pick up what was left of me, the little fragments of individuality [...] like broken bangles, chipped glass, colourful pebbles. [...] This was a lover who had become the landscape. Everything in Kerala reminded me of him. ~ Meena Kandasamy

I write letters to lovers I have never seen, or heard, to lovers who do not exist, to lovers I invent on a lonely morning. Open a file, write a paragraph or a page, erase before lunch. The sheer pleasure of being able to write something that my husband can never access. The revenge in writing the word lover, again and again and again. The knowledge that I can do it, that I can get away with doing it. The defiance, the spite. The eagerness to rub salt on his wounded pride, to reclaim my space, my right to write. ~ Meena Kandasamy

..Meanwhile, remember this: nobody lived happily. Nobody outlived the ever-after. ~ Meena Kandasamy