Thursday, 13 April 2017

[Poem] The Woman in the Woods - An Ekphrastic Poem

                   
                            Painting by Sushmita Gupta
-->
I spied her among the forest trees
Her soft humming echoing in the dusk’s stillness
A forest nymph swathed in green georgette
Hiding her long lustrous hair in a tight oiled coil
I lost myself at the brink of the deep swirl of her liquid eyes
Evocative, their power moated by kohled rims

She plucked a hibiscus and struck it absently in her hair
I knew it would remain there
Secure – much like her fastened thoughts

The stark vermillion mark on her forehead
Was it there, to ward off advances
Or was it a symbol of her own confinement?
I wondered…

For, her lissome beauty
Would enslave all that she surveyed

Even the modest beads swinging from her ears and neck
Shone in borrowed glory

Yet, the downward curl of her lips,
The angry red spots on her cheeks
Invaded my aesthetic ruminations…

I drew closer.

Dear woman, you are no Ravi Varma damsel with bashful eyes
Life had visited you Time and again -
You bear its marks
The angry red streak on your forehead, perhaps sustained from a fall
Your cheeks roughened by vicious assault

Yet you go on
Defiance burns in your eyes
And in the firm set of your lips
Life’s attempts to break you fail
You fight back
And sport with the dragon flies

Saturday, 11 March 2017

[Poem] The Curse of Modernity



This poem was written in response to a contest conducted by Dr Saantosh Bakayya, who took the above picture. It was declared as a winning entry along with four other poems, in the literary group The Significant League. 

Please click on this link to hear the audio recording of the poem

https://soundcloud.com/bhuvaneshwari-shankar/the-curse-of-modernity


When did my world begin to change?
Frozen in a dizzying time warp,
I stand nailed to the ground
Feeling a a giant train blast through me
Littering my world with alien debris

The television came
With it, the advertisements
That bid to change with the times
Oh! the relentless bombardment
Day after day
Bewilderment
Day after day

Watching shadows, I could tell the time
Unlearnt it - to own a watch
My spun cotton no longer trendy
I spend a better part of my earning
On clothes that no longer fit
In pantaloons badly stitched

The local grocer changed his ware
Traditional was passe
Potato silvers, biscuits, soft drinks in the display
We ate that too, because the advertisements told us to

The rich own the world
They always do
They get the best slice of the consumer pie
We get the crumbs
 And call it nectar

All this talk of organic farming
But we have always been organic
Till the pesticides came on the scene
Our water ways on the verge of pollution
The village air
Toxin free for now
I dread the sick world
Which is my child's inheritance

The local shaman has been shamed
 By men in white coats
He has not the wherewithal
To fight diseases of the modern world

The city - a tantalizing temptress beckons
Dimmed- the senses lie, in the bright lights
 But I have come not to drown in her pleasures
Disease is a demon at my back
And, I have come gathering  all that I ever owned
Fear compels, so does hope for a death postponed

The giant shark waits
Its mouth wide open, fangs exposed
It swallows all
And hungers for more
My money, my dignity, even my footwear
My life is a study in despair

I await the word of the shaman in a white coat
Little realizing that he is but a sham
I squat here my defilement complete
In a shabby road unkempt
The corporate shark has sucked
My life's blood
Barely have I, anything left
for a meal or even a bottle of water
A hotel stay is but a pipe dream

All around me vehicles blare and hurry past
Men and women move fast
Hurrying towards something
I am all alone
In a loveless world
Shorn of everything
I squat in the filthy street
Dreaming of the green fields back home

Friday, 3 March 2017

[Poem] Temptress- A Feminist Reading

                          Image source:https://www.arab-painting.com/pic/Oil

The Virgin and the Temptress
Have always been here
Since Creation

Born and reborn in myth
Only, the Temptress
Siren Eve, Shurpanaka, 
Time and again
Reinvented
She is a courtesan
A dancer, musician, an entertainer

The temptress today
Unveil her many graces
In celluloid
As voyeuristic cameras
Explore her in the minutest detail

Men will of course call her a goddess
worship her in the silver screen
Yet
Gape at her posters
Salivate in private
Call her
Unfactually
Unfaithful

Neither goddess nor nymphet,
She is
A mere puppet
In the (film) Maker's hand

Tuesday, 14 February 2017

[Short Story] Tall Tales We Tell

Arjun sat on the sofa, changing the songs on his play list agitatedly,  tiring easily of each one. Either he didn't know the whole song, or the lyrics were bad, or it was too tough.

He felt his mother's touch on his shoulder.

'What is all that frustration for? 
I pity the music player.'

He plucked out the headphones and flung the iPod along with it on the sofa. 

'The culturals start tomorrow.
The music competitions is day after.
The seniors are banking on me.
And I haven't even chosen the song yet...'

She sat next to him, and rubbed his back.  He slumped down on her lap. He even let her ruffle his hair, which he had stopped her from doing ever since he joined college. 
 
 I think I can help you there.  I have saved some new songs in a playlist... you know... the ones that you haven't heard ... maybe you'll find something interesting...' 

Mothers know their sons best - he did find that magical song.

The beautiful love song, sung in his earnest voice moved almost everyone in the audience. 
 
'She floated into my vision 
 
Like 
A Blooming rose
A Poet's dream
A brilliant sun beam
A deer in flight
A moonlit night
A soft word of delight
A lone lamp in a temple aglow

Every girl present there felt, that he sang the song just for her.

The song helped him meet and marry his future wife Kanishka.

II

Arjun stood in the kitchen, making dhal and parathas. Masala chai simmered on another burner.  The kitchen was an absolute mess. It didn't bother him though since the cleaning lady would take care of it in the morning. 
 
Marriage was fine but it involved sacrifices, chief of which was his inability to meet his friends often or have late night parties with them. He hated having to behave so responsibly all the time.

Now that his wife was away after their first big fight, he wanted to make the best use of his time. ‘Freedom from bland cooking! Freedom from rampant nagging! Freedom from over snooping! Freedom from sermonizing!’ he laughed out loud. He felt rather proud about how he was able to vocalize his frustrations poetically. He slathered more ghee over an already soggy paratha with vengeance.

he was tingling with excitement for the evening that lay ahead. 

Finally, he was having all his friends over. All they wanted was a simple meal, loads of fun, his songs and chai to keep them going till the wee hours.

There was a lively song that was on everyone's lips and he was eager to present it that evening.

He sang it loudly experimenting with dance moves to go with it. 

In his enthusiasm, he failed to notice the generous drippings of ghee that had enriched not just the parathas, but the floor as well.

He feet slid down and he fell in a perfect straddle that any gymnast would have been proud of. He felt  a little dizzy and intense pain. He watched helplessly as the paratha burned and the dhal and the the tea spilled over shutting out the flame. As he dragged himself painfully towards the stove to turn it off a scream escaped his lips and his eyes welled up.
 
He contemplated hoisting himself up slowly to get his phone and call for help. He heard the key turn in the door. 
 
 Kanishka had chosen to cut short her visit and come back early.  She helped him up, contritely, her eyes brimming with love. 
 
III

Over the years she pruned and perfected the retelling of their 'story' to her children and to any one else who cared to listen  of how her husband, had loved her the very instant that he had set eyes on her and how he had even changed the song that he had planned to sing since he was so besotted with her. 
She would say how deeply in love they were and of their first fight  ages ago and how upon her early return plagued as she was by pangs of guilt, she had found him slumped on the kitchen floor, crying his heart out for her.


She would also tell them of her firm resolve to never leave his side, ever again…

And that, my friends, is how myths are born.

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

[Poem] Hymn to Defeat

                                  Image was found at http://dods.gamebanana.com/maps/664

I walk this road
Alone
Axing
Beastly foliage
with bare hands
If I fall
I crawl
With the insects in the dust

I walk
Clawing at cobwebs
Mummified in grey tendrils
A noose gripping my throat

In dark caves
I cower 
Fear laughs
And swings from the roof
Or hovers
Overhead, leering
Waiting to taste despair

Yet

There is no turning back
There never was
Will each trudge
Towards the Promised Light

The landscape shifts
Paths become roads
Roads turn to ruin
Dust powders buildings
Rust and grime reign tall

Monday, 21 November 2016

[Poem] Empathy?


I see the tears in your eyes
In a broken voice you share your pain
I offer comfort
My words sound hollow
Even to me
For within me too lies
A crater
A void
Where pain and self doubt
Rage
My eyes rain tears
And hurt wrecks my heart
You are of this earth and so am I
I can neither feel you pain
Nor halt its return

Yet, I say the things you want to hear
Hoping, praying
it will bring you lasting cheer

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

[Poem] In the Land of Sindhu


Proudly flows the Sindhu river
In the land that is named after her
And today that same nation, voices in unison
Your name in one breath, lauds your mission
You, the young star on the horizon
Have pirouetted the country in jubilation
India, your women have finally arrived
Sindhu's Silver, our birthday present, delivered Indian style!

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

[Poem] Adrift

We live in troubled times. There are approximately 65 million displaced people who are fleeing their homelands either because their country is in conflict or because they face persecution or are poverty stricken. The 19th of June is observed as World Refugee Day.
This poem originally appeared in the online portal Different Truths. 

Adrift

The monster roars
Dropping shells
I now know what shell-shocked is –
Shell shocked is to lose a neighborhood
Friends, familiarity
In one stroke
To have history erased
In one stroke
Shell shock is red paint splayed on a domestic scene
Rough hearts wipe my canvas clean

Streets become rivers
Ferrying the dead and the living
I desperately pray for a branch, a log, a twig
To anchor me to my land

Death drops its mantle on the fortuitous
Hope gathers up the dammed in his folds
Oh! This foolish hope
Oh! This foolish wish to live
Riding a wispy fate I flee
I run for days
And drift over seas

I had a job, a routine
I had hopes I had dreams
All in an another life
Now I am a cell in a mass of surging humanity
A nameless hopeless spectre
Without an identity
I am a rudderless refugee
Will I ever wrest back my dignity?

Monday, 13 June 2016

[Short Story] The Diverging Road

-->


It was early afternoon. Venu surveyed her surroundings doubtfully. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found the signboard. It read Venpani Peak. What lay ahead was a steep slope. She began the ascent, lips pursed.

She panted a little. The heavy camera that hung around her neck swayed and twisted heavily, with every stride, as she negotiated the jagged steps. Sharp branches of dead wood that grew alongside the path, grazed her elbows and legs.

‘Damn! I should have worn something more sensible!’ she exclaimed as she looked down with dismay at her sleeveless short dress. Several red marks marred the smoothness of her arms and legs. She rubbed them to relieve the pain.
She slowed down to catch her breath and clicked pictures of the golden sunlight filtering in through the curtain of leaves.
The charm of her surroundings engulfed her and she gave in to the pure mountain air, the greenery and the sound of the wind that whooshed through the trees.

Venu was pleased with herself when she finally reached the peak. She spied a wooden bench a little distance away and rushed towards it to rest her aching limbs. But as soon as she sat down, she stood up again drawing in her breath sharply. She was greeted by a sight that she had only seen in the screen savers in her computer. She ran to the brink to drink in the panoramic view of the hills covered in green, dotted with rocky precipices and straight ahead of her, lay a white, misty, waterfall that fell several meters below into a wide river that meandered and vanished through a bend in the rocks. She stood transfixed for a long while and then began photographing it all in a frenzy, eager to capture the sheer beauty and transfer it all into her camera.

She heard the soft rush of a mountain stream and set out to find it. She washed her face and drank the cool water thirstily. Rejuvenated, she moved about capturing wild flowers through her lens, all the while imagining the ripples and the envy it would stir up among her classmates, who were at the base camp. She and her college mates had arrived just that morning on a botanical expedition to the mountains and she had slipped out quietly at lunchtime for her own little adventure in the hills. Will they miss me? Would they perhaps look for me? Would Akil stall them? she wondered.

Venu wasn't the adventurous type at all, but Akil had challenged her to do it and she was never one to back down from a dare.

Thank you Akil, I have the entire hills to myself!’
She shouted hands cupping her mouth, waiting eagerly for the reverberation.

But thoughts of nature, beauty and peace gave place to fear doubt and panic.
Venu was seized by the thought that she had not seen another human being all through.

Her survival instincts kicked in.

She looked around anxiously for the path that would take her back.

But a few false trails later, Venu realized that she was completely lost.

What sort of a boyfriend was this stupid Akil?
He could have easily slipped out with me or he should not have put me up to this! She lamented.

Hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach. Just take any path downhill …it would lead to civilization, a sane voice spoke in her head.

She began her descent and came upon a clearing.

Then she saw him.

He was of a diminutive height, small made. He was brown skinned with an angular face. He wore an embroidered shawl of red black and white over his right shoulder leaving his left shoulder bare.

She ran towards him and began animatedly. ‘Oh thank god, you are here …’
She switched to Tamizh when he fixed her in a quizzical stare.
But when he continued to stare at her in puzzlement, she broke of a twig and began drawing on the ground. She spoke the words slowly and gestured animatedly with both her hands. He nodded and pointed to a pathway through the trees.
She drew money from her pocket and held it out to him. He slowly but firmly pushed her hand away.

As she made her way down hill, sending up a silent prayer, she saw another man.

He came up the stone path effortlessly, twirling a cane. He must have been in his thirties. Everything about him spelt style and fine taste, right from his khaki shorts, blue shirt to the Gucci sunglasses carelessly pushed back to his crown. An unlit cigarette dangled rakishly from a corner of his mouth. He waved at her and Venu waved back a little hesitantly.
He came closer.

'Are you part of that college expedition? She nodded smiling sheepishly.

‘Hmm… That’s what I thought, when I saw you from a distance!’

He gave an easy laugh.

‘What are you doing here all by yourself?’

‘ Oh, I am Sanjay, by the way’

He held out his hand.

She shook it with her fingertips.

‘I am a geologist … I am staying in the same resort.’

Venu merely nodded.

He continued

‘Are you lost or something?

What are you doing with him?’ He gestured to the adivasi, who stood patiently during the exchange.

‘Come with me. I could take you back. I can always come up here tomorrow. Twilight is almost upon us …’ he laughed again.

Venu deliberated for a long moment. She cast a sidelong glance at the adivasi who waited patiently.

‘No’ she began apologetically ‘I think I will go with him ... He has agreed to take me back and it would be impolite.’

He laughed.

‘Don't be silly. I could give him some money and send him away… let me speak to him.’

She turned and blocked his path. She looked him firmly in the eye. 'It's alright. I'll go with him. I am pretty sure we will have plenty of occasions to meet later on…’

She signaled to her guide to lead her and followed him, head bent.

The Noble Savage won the day.

Image Source: 7-themes.com

Thursday, 21 April 2016

[Poem] I search

Image by: HelgaMcL

I search for him
In smiles strange
In hands extended -I search
For the one touch

Rummaging
Through words that fall of alien lips

Sifting through tones
I search for The Voice

In the light of a thousand eyes
I scour
For the look that delights

In the gloom of the night
When dreams walk free
I hunt for reunion

In slideshows of memories
That collapse and rise
In constant auto play
I search

Tears pry open
Crumpled eyes
Sluice gates
Rise
To release
The misery
Threatening to explode
A tormented heart

Loss teaches love
Alas, when all is lost

Tuesday, 12 April 2016

[Poem] Jouissance


I unfurl
Ungather
Unravel
A knotted self
  With scissors sometimes
 In music
In dance
 In moon tide
I lie awash in the waves
Or glide on the breeze
Till my wings burn

Into the fire I go
I step in, recoil, step in again
Over coals
Till my toes burn
The tingle of an ice cube
On an expectant tongue
Shuddering fingertips
Running over ice
The tremble and the shiver
Of cascading cold water

Rafting the rapids
Scaling mountains
Diving oceans
Planking the wind
My body arched
My curves
Pulsate to release
To transcend

I am
Always in search
Of the essence
The ineffable
Jouissance

[Blog] Language and the Politics of Chauvinism

       A friend shared an Instagram reel in a WhatsApp group about the impossibility of having a one word English translation of the Tamil w...