A rare blend of creativity and commitment, Rajitha waved the banner of women’s liberation till her last breath
Poet, singer, activist, orator, and essayist Anisetti Rajitha—popularly known as Ma Necheli—passed away on August 11 in Warangal after a heart attack. A founding member of the Democratic Writers’ Forum and its current national president, Rajitha embodied a rare blend of creativity and commitment. In every sphere of life, she waved the banner of women’s liberation, holding it high until her very last breath. Her death is an irreparable loss to the people’s democratic and cultural movements.
Rajitha’s journey as an activist began in her student years. As a high school student, she participated in the 1969 Telangana movement, and later, as an intermediate student, she responded to the call of the Progressive Women’s Association (POW). From the very beginning, her poems carried the spirit of resistance, giving voice and strength to contemporary social movements. In 1982, she became a partner in the Women’s Empowerment Study Institute, organized by student activists, where she helped build a culture of study circles and practice-based programs focusing on women’s issues.
Rajitha’s contribution was never confined to the written word. As a folk singer, she expressed the struggles, aspirations, and necessities of the women’s movement with stirring clarity. She played an active role in several historic struggles, including the Sarah Movement, the Malidasa Telangana Movement, the anti-Polavaram project campaign, the anti-Mallannasagar struggle, and the Muzaffarnagar Movement. During the Telangana statehood agitation, she built platforms for writers, particularly women, to channel their creativity into political consciousness. Through her efforts, democratic writers found both a voice and a stage. She also held important responsibilities in executive committees that shaped the cultural-political discourse of the time.
Her literary legacy is both prolific and powerful. She produced four major collections of poetry:
- Nenokanalla Mabbunavuta (1997) – “Shall I Become a Cloud?”
- Sweat Tree (1998)
- Usuru (2002) – “Breath”
- Aana Anaga Time (2005) – “Once Upon a Time”
Other notable works include Dastakhat (2005) – “Signature”, Nanilu Goranthadeepalu (2005) – “Small Lamps of Sandalwood”, Nanhe O Nanhe (2007) – “Little One, O Little One”, O Lachavva (2005) – “O Lachavva”, and Market Smart Mrs. (2010).
In 2016, as part of ongoing social and cultural mobilizations, she published Under the Sky, a collection of poems inspired by processions and struggles. Almost all her writings reflected the lived realities of women and symbolized broader social contradictions. Her language defied convention, brimming with contempt for patriarchal norms and expressing the raw truths of women’s lives. In one of her poems, she wrote:
“Do not ask me to stitch silence
on the wound of my tongue.
My words are rivers—
they will not stop flowing.”
Elsewhere, reflecting the daily grind of women’s survival, she sang:
“The sweat of my brow
waters the barren soil of your power.
But one day,
my sweat will become a tree
under which you can no longer hide.”
Rajitha was not only a creator but also a tireless organizer. She never undertook a task without consulting people, and once she began, she carried it through with uncompromising dedication. Whether traveling long distances to remote villages or engaging in intense discussions, she explored every contradiction and fermenting conflict of society with clarity and compassion.
Her life was one of relentless struggle and luminous creativity. She was uncompromising in her politics, yet tender in her solidarity—always listening before leading, always giving others the courage to speak. To countless young women, she was not only a poet and activist, but also a mentor, a sister, and a beacon of strength.
At the same time, her role in people’s movements places her firmly in the political history of democratic struggles in India. She bridged poetry with politics, culture with activism, and literature with the pulse of the streets. In remembering Rajitha, one remembers a tradition of writers who refused neutrality, who chose to side with the oppressed, and who wielded the pen and the song as weapons of liberation.
Rajitha’s passing leaves a void that cannot be easily filled. But her words, her songs, and her struggles will continue to inspire new generations of writers, activists, and women who refuse to be silenced. The banner of women’s liberation that she held aloft will not fall—it will be carried forward by those she awakened.
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Harsh Thakor is a freelance journalist
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