Of Closets, Birthrights, Azadi

People locked in closets, speak out. Hairy Antonette puts their voice to music.

 

Guilt, after pleasure. Lies to mask truth treasured. Can these ‘sinful’ hands hinde my desires from me?

Stolen kisses in empty houses,
Sneaking glances across busy hallways,
Hands intertwined, uneasy minds,
Where there should be love and bliss, there is fear
Fear of being found out
Of being disowned, of being fired
Or being imprisoned for daring-
to act on one’s most primal urges

The woman in me, craves for you, lady.

The throes of passion that can lead to the clicking of handcuffs
And the expression of love that can lead to the ruining of lives
A colonial era law they refuse to strike down
Turning ordinary citizens into criminals for daring to love

If I’ll look longer, I’ll fall in love. And where will that get me? Behind bars…

Don’t we all seek out hands to hold
Mouths to kiss, bodies to intertwine with
To love without fear, to make love without punishment?
The world’s largest democracy withholds us that privilege
Too many ‘fake’ marriages and lives ruined
Too many beautiful people trapped in closets
Too many lose their lives to prejudice and fear
Telling people the safe truth they want to hear

Why is Truth made to wear a mask? What Hinduism do they talk about, Father?

But fear hasn’t kept some of us from being loud
From organising and fighting, non conformists and proud
We rally on, we make love
We go to pride, we speak up
We come out, we change minds
We speak out, we change lives
And we won’t stop till we’re free
We demand our birthright – azaadi.

Erase out my love, my personality. My ink, they say is of the wrong colour.