Wednesday, February 25, 2009

If It Could Be Said

If it could be said.

We would not muddle over mojitos
All night. We passed by this road
And kept getting lost at the same
Red light. Turning a violent green of the
The heart. But it aches and nothing will
Kill this pain. Not until

It has been said.


He slapped me for no reason she said.

When Emilia asked what the blue face was all about.

Then she thought of all the other men she could have been with right now.

Men who had sworn to love her perfectly.

And amongst them she thought of that boy,

Who, would stand under her window,

Drunk like the gondola he was on

Plucking an elaborate tune on his guitar.

She thought of his slightly ugly face

How his hair had curled, in all the wrong ways.

She thought how pathetic he had seemed back then

On his daddy’s boat.

But today she took out her phone book

And called him before she could change her mind.

She wanted out of this prison island for good.

And his daddy’s boat didn’t seem so bad after all.

She dialed his number, hoping he’d still be there.

It rang and she could tell he was on roaming.

First ring, second ring, third ring, she decided she’d hang up if he didn’t pick up by the fifth ring.

Fourth ring, she was desperate…she decided to hang up on the seventh ring.

Fifth ring, then a beep and a voice on the other side said “hello”.

She lifted her head and looked into the mirror. The voice said “hello” again.

In the mirror she saw her life with him, in shades of pink and blue.

She ran to her bathroom because she thought she would be sick.

She hung up.


But that night she went to bed with a swan – song and a dagger.

The song was for her husband. So was the dagger.

Tomorrow she thought to herself, as she lay in the dark for him to come to bed.

Tomorrow will be mine…





Sunday, February 15, 2009

Spring...is a very long wait...

After the cages
one day a very sudden day
the sun will be just right.
And its heat will travel deep into
the bones of an old woman
so she exhales with all her might.
This smells like spring.

After all the solidity of drudgery
one day everything begins to float
not on water but on nothing.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Wednesday

"Estas astravesada como el dia Miercoles"*...
..because you bring with you the hindsight of hope
and the foresight of heartbreak...
sometimes you're like an impossibly bad film
at others you're a friendly cafe in the middle of nowhere
when I've walked for four hours and there's only four more to go...


*"You are like a wednesday"
These lines are from a fantastic play by Sarah Kane called Crave

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

To you all; the keepers of my culture,honour and shame...


Dear Boys from the Ram Sene (and such like),
I admit that I have been a complete failure at upholding my "honor" even though I am an educated, intelligent adult citizen of this country. I have been quite vexed at my own actions and I must confess my crimes immediately to you -
-occasionally having a quiet drink with friends at a pub.
-going out dancing because I love to dance and have always thought it a great way of unwinding after a long and tiring week.
-going back home on a bus with a boy who studies in my college. I see why even though we live close to each other we must not get on the same bus to go to college (i will suggest to him that he should always take the later bus, so what if he misses a lecture...afterall we're talking of "honor" here).
-wearing "western" clothes because they're comfortable and easy to manage.
-speaking my mind and striving to forge my own identity as a woman and a human-being.
-falling in love and showing the person I love that I love him.
-acknowledging my body and its needs and desires.

You have opened my eyes now. But I regret to inform you that since I've spent too many years in the habit of being shameless try as I may I am unable to do things differently. This worried me quite a bit until last week when I saw you all on t.v. I am so delighted that I no longer have to worry about my honor since you have decided to take care of me. What would women like me do without you?

And so I am thrilled to send you my pink panties today. As keepers of my shame I hope you will take care of them. I will now roam the world less burdened with this matter of my honor and reassured that my shame is well taken care of by all of you who have so graciously taken the role of being the "keepers of my culture, honour and shame."

Yours sincerely,

A Shameless (& now obviously panty-less) Indian Woman.