Hunger

Rains are about to come

I await the wetness

The first drops will awaken that

First rain smell

My hair will be drenched again

The droplets will be fingers

Caressing my waist, I will be

Reminded I am a woman again

I shall think of my unborn children

How I haven't held them yet

How I haven't held their children yet

I shall think of books, so many books

Ideas, genres, domains

I haven't explored yet

Data mine fields

I haven't exploded yet

I shall think of books and volumes

I haven't written yet

Virgin paper that I haven't inked yet

I shall think of songs and movies

That I haven't adored yet

The plays, the recitals, the performances

I haven't been to yet 

I shall think of my students

My wonderful, brilliant students 

Whose minds (and hearts) 

I haven't touched yet

I shall think of my remarkable friends

Whose laughter, warmth, goodness

I haven't soaked yet

I shall think of my lover

Whom I haven't met yet

Whose kisses I haven't stolen yet

Tomorrow if death takes me suddenly

I shall go with her as her comrade

But she should know

And should all who knew me know

That I wasn't 

I wasn't 

I wasn't 

I wasn't done yet.

-

Chandni Girija

April 30, 2021 

Day 30 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National/Global Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo

This is it. The journey of 30 days ends here. A slight sadness in me as I hit 'publish.' 

Life is a gift. Have unabashed hunger for it. Only that will help you hold on tenaciously, and fight! Have patience. The rains are about to come. :) 

Dog with a Vanity Purse

Dog with a vanity purse

Went to Hydra-bath

Dog had a bath

Dog had a terrible bath

A dog terrible bath

Dog did a towel-y 

Dog did a howl-y

Dog went to temple

Dog did a beg-gy

Dog earned no money

Dog did a curse-y

Dog took a train

Dog popped some peanuts

Dog enjoyed the scenery

Dog was caught by TC

And scooped with a crane

Dog was so much dumped-y

Dog was depressed grumpy

Dog went to parlour

Dog was welcomed royally

Dog was given trimming

Dog was given facial

Dog opened the vanity bag

Dog promptly took to make-up

Dog was loved by the ladies

Dog was given no peace

And when they chanted "bikini wax"

Dog took a whole, huge dump-y

Microscopic feces hanging to butt hair

Dog now had only a place to go

Dog, good dog, with a vanity purse

Promptly hounded to Hydra-bath

-

Chandni Girija

April 29, 2021

Day 29 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

The Bleakness of Yellow

Night ends miserably
She wakes to her friend's face
"How could she be gone?"
"What were her last thoughts?"
"She must have been scared"
She didn't have the strength
To muster yesterday's rage
The bleakness of yellow 
Spins through the day
Buzzing like a bee
A hypnotic buzz
Hanging like a blackness
"How could this be,
Isn't yellow a bright colour?"
Chores are done
Work is done
Somehow the day is done
She awaits sleep
Fatigue would translate
Quickly to sleep, wont it?
But the buzz returns
It then occurs to her
"The colour of pyres is yellow."
-
Chandni Girija
April 28, 2021

Day 28 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

This will be Remembered

Why are people surprised?

If in 2002 

You could run your hands 

Under the tap

Dry it off on a saffron towel

And seat yourself

Nonchalantly on your seat of power

Why not today

Then it was the blood of hundreds

And now it is of thousands

Rinse, repeat 

They ask

How can you sleep at night

The fools!

Haven't they understood by now

The fetters of normal humanity

Do not hold you

You snore at night!

Why in the name of current Indian hell

Are people even surprised? 

-

Chandni Girija

April 27, 2021

Day 27 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Lost my former classmate and hostel-mate of three years. Had pledged to send out hope and positivity in the closing of this writing month. But Charu's news has shaken many of us. 

Reason

Are you standing alone on the rock?
Dwarfed pitiably by the stretching horizon?
Intimidated by the roaring waves of the ocean?
Raging silently at your ridiculous frailty? 
You have forgotten
Reason
Your ability to reason is what makes you human
To weigh, to compare, to accept, to reject
It tells you how
And that is how
You will not jump into the ocean
If pulled by the waves, you won't drown:
You will simply remember to swim
Stop cursing your weaknesses
Reason is your biggest strength
Reason is all you need
Watch the horizon shrink now
As your posture changes.
-
Chandni Girija
April 26, 2021

Day 26 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Their Wombs

Flecks of dust fly upwards

His each step creating a chaos 

His forgotten umbrella hangs

Behind the bedroom door  

His reminiscent wife hangs 

By the local's door 

She would reach Dadar now

An hour earlier than him

He would alight at Vity

She had whispered a secret

To the universe

Morning, today morning

The dust, the umbrella

The rod she clung to

Dadar and Vity

All had heard it

Wind carries her hair

Momentum tousles his

He didn't know yet

She would tell him

Evening, today evening

They both smile

The same instant

He thinks it is

The craziness of his run

She knows it is

Their blooming tiny secret

He presses his belly

With his left hand

Calming the running stitch

And with her free right hand

She hugs her waist

Completing the still picture

-

Chandni Girija

April 25, 2021

Day 25 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

 

हम कैद रहेंगे

मौत दरवाजे पर हैं 

घंटी बजा रही 

उम्मीद खिड़की पर हैं 

कहती हैं कूदेगी 

हमने अब सोच लिया हैं 

दरवाजा और खिड़की 

दोनों बंद रहेंगे 

उम्मीद के साथ 

हम घरपर कैद रहेंगे 

जो साथी छोड़कर चले गए हैं 

जो फेफड़ों से संघर्ष कर रहें हैं 

नीली-हरी में जो सीमा पर लढ रहें हैं 

हमारे बच्चे, हमारे बूढ़े 

मित्र-बंधू 

जो साँस साथ हमारे ले रहें हैं 

हमारी जिस्मों में बस्ती जानें 

कर्जदार इनके रहें हैं 

सरकार साथ दे भी ना अगर 

हम मिलकर श्रृंखला तोड़ेंगे 

हौसले कि श्रृंखला जोड़ेंगे 

अटल रहेंगे 

सतर्क रहेंगे 

उम्मीद के साथ 

हम घरपर कैद रहेंगे

-

चाँदनी गिरिजा 

अप्रैल २४, २०२१ 

This poem is as an attempt to honour Ravindra Bansode's memory. Ravindra was a PhD scholar from our centre (Centre for Study of Social Exclusion and Inclusive Policies, TISS) who passed away yesterday due to Covid-related complications. I never had the good fortune of interacting directly with him. But I remember him distinctly from our group meetings. He was humble and soft-spoken. It is unsettling to think that someone whose face I saw, voice I heard over Zoom calls, just a few months back, is no more. We have lost such a young person, a future doctorate and, as so many Ambedkarite brothers and sisters have lamented, a valuable part of the Ambedkarite movement. An abrupt end to so many possibilities and dreams. It saddens and angers me. But we owe to Ravindra and the others like him, who left us too soon, to not be broken. 

I wish strength to his wife, two children and dear ones. 

Jai Bhim, Ravindra!

Day 24 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Wronged

Let’s say you’re opposed to the ghost

in principle, your pragmatism disallows it  

yet, let’s say you secretly desire it,

so that he could have a way back in,

find manifestation to the lake in you,

carefully shored from the world,

where his former friends and family,

no longer speak his name, which is lost,

and yet you treasure it, repeating lovingly

the alliteration in your names;

so let's say you unabashedly desire

to see him, selfishly seek utterance,

to your undying grief, 

and let's say you are probably,

still smarting, a little crazy, bitter,

it's just that you want him to appear,

so that you could screech at him,

Why, why did we not have time?

-

Chandni Girija

April 23, 2021

Inspired by today's NaPoWriMo's challenge to write a poem in response to another poem. 'Wronged' is a response to Jeet Thayil's 'Life Sentence.' Thayil is an author who has stayed and talked in my head. His 'Narcopolis' was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2012. Thayil was one of the judges of the 2020 International Booker Prize. 

I have contrasted with Thayil's conception. I have followed his form, while differing in some instances. However, it is my feeling that has largely taken over. Poems, I suspect, write themselves :)

Photo by Pixabay, procured at Pexels

Day 23 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Diary Entry: April 22, 2021

Time

Time is not a construct

Time is real, a physical reality

Time is my prematurely grey hair

Time is my healed dog bite scar

Time is my cracked laptop cover

Time is Amma's dilapidating arm chair

Time is the death of our known ones

Time is the death of unknown ones

Time is election time

Time is political priorities

Time is a crumbling healthcare system

Time is my friend's daughter's fifth birthday

Time is the new litter of my niece's cat

Time is the omnipresent blueness

Time is the pulsating frustration

Time is dejection

Time is hopelessness

Time is real, ask these physical realities

Time is not a construct

-

Chandni Girija

April 22, 2021

An experimentation of form, inspired from napowrimo's Day 21 prompt to use a 'repetitive set-up' 

Day 22 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

The Dance of Rage

No

The earth is not shaking

It is the elephants

They are dancing

They are trumpeting 

Listen, listen, listen

Such a mad, mad tune

This is crazy!

Look, look, look

Our feet are dancing too

Dhoom tikine dhoom

Tikine tikine dhoom

Let us join the dark ones

Their song is wise and true

Their song is right and true

Let our dancing feet

Become a march song

Let our marching feet

Become the great dance

Let us ripple across

Kanyakumari to Kashmir

Let us vibrate from

Gujarat to Arunachal

Let us slap awake sleep

Let us punch sense in stupor

Stupor, the dangerous one

Stupor, the deeply slept

Let us break the front teeth

Two front teeth of stupor

And when stupor finally smiles

The toothless smile

Let us mark its forehead

With the blood from its gums

Let us mark it

With a proud tilak

Let us then finally all

The awake

The revived 

Us all

Sway into Delhi

Our marching, dancing feet

A crescendo

Let us bring the leeches

The bespectacled leeches

Down to free maidan

Then in a single, unified motion

Our legs melded as one

A single leg of a great asur

Let us, let us

Crack their skulls

-

Chandni Girija

April 21, 2021

Day 21 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Comics: Sanitary Panels

News Clip: Live Mint

 

 

The Silent Song

In the mundaneness of daily routine

In the pristine perfection of my work

In the chugging rhythm of commingled commute

In the Sunday group walk banter

In the domestic chatter

In the bedroom moments

No one

No one notices

The glassiness of my eyes

How I disappear for moments

Into emptiness 

How latched to my laughter

Is a melancholy

No one

No one notices

Stifled underneath my perfume

Is a stink

A stink I have mastered

In hiding

No one

No one knows

My world is divided into two

Their world

And my world

I camouflage to the dot

Yet

No one

No one knows

I do not belong in their world

And I cannot escape my own

My curse is I carry goodness

Buttoned with my darkness

It never lets me forget

No one

No one knows

I am a ghost

Going through a man's motions

Only I know

And so I sing

In the silent loudness of my head. 

-

Chandni Girija

April 20, 2021

Inspired from Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name is Red' 

Day 20 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

शेवटचा पत्र

पडू दे प्रकाश,

कोवळ्या उन्हाचा 

बसुया आता शांतपणे

बाकेवर आपल्या

तू बस उत्तराकडे तोंडकरून

मी बसते दक्षिणेकडे पाहत

वाहू दे काळाच्या समुद्राला आपल्या पायांखाली

वाहू दे काळाला

तुझ्या-माझ्या पायांना स्पर्शुन निघतील

अवशेष भूतकाळातले

आपण जगलेल्या काळाचे

स्पर्शूदे!

तुझं वाहतुक वेगळं असेन, माझं वेगळं

माझ्या करड्या वेल्क्रो शू-ला आता ती

आइस-क्रीम स्टिक येऊन चिटकलिये

त्या आठवणीच्या कुशीत,

माझे डोळे खुदु-खुदु हसतायेत

तू बरोबर बोललेलीस,

"इट ट्रॅव्हललेड हॅप्पीली एव्हर आफ्टर"

कारण ती स्टिक काळाच्या कुठल्याही ऍक्सिस वर सापडली,

हासूच आणते

कसली ती  स्टिक गं!

माझ्या शू-मध्ये काही काटे रुतलेले

नकळत,

घेऊन चालत होते,

आणी अचानक एकेदिवशी मी झटकलं त्या पायाला

त्यासोबत आजून काही गोष्टींना

काळांतराने एक-एक काटा ढासळत गेला

एक-एक भोक भरत गेला

चुका तर कुणाचेच न्हवते

फक्त तो काळ होता, अनोळखीचा, अलवचिकपणाचा

नाहीतर हाताळलो असतो व्यवस्तीत

पण ते सगळं पुढे वाहिलंय

वाहतंय

वाहणार

प्रकाशमय मनांना शेवटी प्रकाश सापडतोच

माझ्या शू-ला आजून काही अवशेष

झर-झर स्पर्शून निघतायेत 

झाडाखालचा तो तपकिरी प्रकाश

टेबलावरचं तो डब्बा

तीन-वाजताची चहा

फार्म-रोडवरची पावलं

देवनार-ते-दादरचा बस

'तोरण' मधला प्रशस्त जेवण

'वोक' मधला फालतू सिझ्झलर

तासन-तासांचा ऑफिस-पलायन

गाणी, कित्येक गाणी!

संदीप खरे!

तासन-तासांच्या व्हाट्सेप गप्पा

मध्यरात्रीची लुकलुकणारी सह-लिखित कविता

आजून काय काय!

बघ ना पाण्याकडे,

हासवे वाहावताना किती जलद वाहते

आणि आसवे वाहावताना किती हळू

वाहू दे पाण्याला.

तुझ्या क्रीम स्लिप-ऑनला आता काय चिटकलाय गं?

तुझी वाहतुक कशी आहे-

वेगवान कि मंद?

मंद असेन

तुझे हात गुंतलेत ना!

कित्येक जबाबदाऱ्यांमध्ये

अभ्यास, घर, घरचे, ऑफिस

वाहू दे जसं वाहतंय.

मीही गुंतलेले

इतर-इत्यादी मध्ये

बाकेवरची माझी जागा रिकामी पडलेली

स्तब्ध होते, बर्फ़ासारखी

पुन्हा मग माझ्या दिशेने सूर्य उगवला

जमलं विरघळायला

विरघळतीये

गेल्या काही दिवसांच्या विचारात

अश्रू ही वाहतायेत

वाहू दे अश्रूंना!

हे वाहणं तर मनाचच

बाह्य-मनाचा

अंतर-मन तर शांतच असतो

त्याला काहीच नकोय

त्याला सगळंच स्वीकार्य आहे

आणि तेच सत्य आहे

आपलं म्हणून खरं काहीच नाही

सुदैवाने जगण्याची हि संधी मिळालीये

आणि आपण जगतोय

जगू दे किरधारांना!

हो सखे,

शांत होऊया

बसुया शांतपणे

बाकेवर आपल्या

तू बस उत्तराकडे तोंडकरून

मी बसते दक्षिणेकडे पाहत    

एक दिवस पश्चिमेकडुन उगवेल सूर्य

आणि आपल्या सावल्या भेटतील पूर्वाकडे

बाकेच्या मध्यभागी

त्या दिवशी उठूया

मी माझा वेल्क्रो-शू काढून टाकेन

तू तुझा स्लिप-ऑन

आणि अनवाणी पायांनी

समुद्र किनाऱ्यावर सोबत चालूया

किंवा सूर्य जर उगवलाच नाही

हिवाळा गाठून बसला आपल्या बाकेला

तर त्या दिवशी उठूया

तू चाल उत्तराच्या दिशेने

मी चालेन दक्षिणेकडे

सोडूया आपला बाक

आठवणींच्या एका कप्यात

तुझ्या मनातला एका कप्यात

आणि माझ्या मेंदूतला एका कप्यात

आणि काळाच्या कुठल्या ऍक्सिस वर

तो कप्पा हलला

तर बसत जाऊया त्या बाकेवर

वेग-वेगळं, एकटं

होऊ दे जसं होतंय!

सध्या वाहू दे काळाला

फक्त वाहतूक मुक्त असू दे

पाण्याच्या खारटपणात

गोडी हरवायला नको

हासवे विसरायला नको

तू दिलेला तपकिरी प्रकाश विसरायला न
को

हसण्याचे

जिवंत, सक्रिय होण्याचे

दिलेली छोटी-छोटी कारणे विसरायला नको

बाकी सगळं

आकाश, तारका, चंद्र

दगड, खडक

निर्मिती, विश्व, अस्तित्व

लावलेला जीव

त्याचा

कच्च, कोरं

सत्य आणि सातत्य

तसंच राहीन.

-

चाँदनी गिरीजा

एप्रिल १९, २०२१ 

Day 19 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Bhima Gold

I would wave it before her

The jewellery ad 

On the magazine page

The model decked

Neck to navel in gold

I would ask her excitedly,

"Would you give me,

This much gold

For my marriage?"

It was like a skit we played

So often 

It had become

A ritual

Amma would nod

A no

Then I would hold

My palm to my stomach

"This much?"

"No" again

I would then raise

My palm a bit higher

"This much?"

She would nod again

A nay

On my palm would go

From stomach

To chest

To neck

Each time

She would answer

"No"

Finally I would ask

"Would you give me

One necklace

Amma?"

She would nod

A yes this time

And we would all

Burst out laughing

-

Chandni Girija

April 18, 2021

Note: Usually a poem should stand alone. However, I would like to add an appendix to this one. The recent ad by Bhima Gold. In the poem, it could have been any jeweller's ad. However, it has been titled 'Bhima Gold' in honour of the watershed moment they have created in mainstream ad world - showing a family helping a trans-woman accept and blossom into her identity. There are some questions embedded within and around this poem and this ad. Why still dowry? Why do girlhood dreams have gold? And why can't a trans-woman have the same conventional dreams privileged to cis-women? Let us keep thinking, and answer them gradually, together. Right now though, the Bhima golden moment ought to be cheered. 

Day 18 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Immaculate Conception

Blankness

Stares out of the page

Stares out through my eyes

Blanknesses

Collide

Text squeezes out

Tired, black letters

Crawl onto the horizon

Like sun-beaten camels

In an arid desert 

A word is a word

Given, given

Not to be broken

"A poem a day"

"A poem a day"

My hard taskmaster

You have bled me dry

Slow stanzas form

With no humidity

No moistness 

A poem has now sprouted

This is outrageous!

This is immaculate conception!

Funny, funny

How this turns out

Reader, mine

My lovely

Reader, mine

Tell me 

What make you

Of this

Noble, noble

Bastard-child?   

-

Chandni Girija

April 17, 2021

Day 17 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Nearing Dawn

She fell involuntarily

Slipping underneath

Like a crocodile head

The world was cool here

Cool and comfortable 

Yet foreign somehow

Like well-fitting snakeskin

She hung there

Like a floating embryo

The currents took charge

Showing her about

Shapes shifted about her

First monochrome

Then technicolor

A whole movie unfurled

From this technicolority 

On it went

With its 

Eccentric direction

Captivating screenplay

The currents' hold loosened

Her back touched the surface

She bobbed there

Like a dead body

She turned suddenly

The movement so easy

The water had turned now

To smooth sand

She lay on her back

Eyes open now

Staring at the fog above

She then sat up

The ceiling fan broke 

Into the familiar song

Like waves hitting the shore

In high speed motion

The dream slipped from her pupils

Like a dejected sun on canvas

She remembered not a thing

Only the residue of a feeling

Somewhere on her

On the hair of her arm probably

Or her eyelashes

She swung her legs

Down to the floor

Her feet met the chappals

The to-do list snapped open

Like an abruptly drawn bamboo curtain

Her foot began to rise

To step

Step into

The certainty of the day

-

Chandni Girija

April 16, 2021

Day 16 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Orange-brown

Everything is such a blur

We had spoken

Probably

I must have congratulated him

I had loved his documentary

People were milling about

Everything is such a blur

Except for that moment

So clear

Seared in my memory

With the 'Tilt-Shift' filter

Of Instagram

My view of him was blocked

Partially

Another bobbing head

Did we turn to each other?

The same instant?

Or was I standing there

Looking at him 

And he turned to me?

There occurred an instant

We looked at each other

Him with one eye

The right

That could see me

And that I could see

His eye, oh

His eye had an orange tint

On the light brown

There's an imprint 

Of his smile

On the memory

From our earlier conversation

Probably

Or probably

From his knowledge

His knowing

Of my attraction 

Hmm... he knew

In the instant 

He looked at me

Probably

Half an instant earlier

We had stood that way

In the few seconds

Of this knowing

Or him knowing

And me transfixed

Today as I remember again

I feel the force again

Rooting me somehow

To the past moment

That merges into now

A cord, a pole

Affixing me

Through the center

Of my throat

I think I am smiling

A half-smile

A tilt on my right lip corner

I think I have been kissed

There

By this memory

A soft orange-brown kiss

-

Chandni Girija

April 15, 2021

Day 15 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

നിലാവിന്റെ ദുഃഖം

കവിതക്ക് കൂട്ടുണ്ടല്ലോ ഞാൻ ചൊല്ലി ചൊല്ലി രസിക്കാൻ എന്റെ തലകത്തുള്ള പാട്ടുണ്ടല്ലോ മച്ചിൻമേൽ ഞാൻ മാത്രം തനിച്ച് ഞാനും ആകാശത്തിലെ ചന്ദ്രനും ചന്ദ്രനിൽനിന്ന് ഉദിച്ചത് നിലാവല്ലേ പക്ഷെ നിലാവിനും ചന്ദ്രനും ഇടക്ക് പാലമായ ഭാഷ ഏതാ? ഭാഷയുണ്ടോ? കൈനീട്ടിയാൽ നിലാവിന് ചന്ദ്രനെ തൊടാൻ കഴിയുമോ? ചന്ദ്രനെ ഒന്ന് നോക്കാൻ നിലാവിന് വളയാൻ കഴിയുമോ? കഴിയില്ല താഴേക്ക് വീഴാനാണ് നിലാവിന്റെ ധർമ്മം നെഞ്ചിൽ പിടിയ്ക്കുന്ന ചന്ദ്രോനോടുള്ള സ്നേഹം ചന്ദ്രന് കൊടുക്കാൻ കഴിയുകയില്ലയെന്നറിയാം നിലവാസ്‌നേഹം മച്ചിന് നൽകും മുടങ്ങാതെ എല്ലാ രാത്രികളിലും നിലാവിന്റെ സ്നേഹത്തിൽ മച്ച് പൂക്കും എല്ലാ രാത്രികളിലും മുടങ്ങാതെ ഞാൻ ഇത് കാണാറുണ്ട്‌ തനിച്ച്

-

ചാന്ദിനി ഗിരിജ ഏപ്രിൽ 14, 2021

Day 14 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

The TV and Me

He storms out of the room

Huffing and panting

All civility and class

That had left his body

Wafting back to him

I straighten up

I realise the solidness of the sofa

I stare ahead

The TV screen returns my blankness

We sit in silence

The TV and me

For how long?

I now notice my reflection

A blackish shape on a black screen

How could black

Have so many contrasts?

My hand reaches to my face

My forefinger caresses my lip corner

Something rises in my chest

Slowly, slowly

Bile?

No, it's laughter

No sound escapes my mouth

My eyes are probably alive now

I pick up the remote

And press 'On'

Nimisha Sajayan throwing

Drain water 

On Suraj Venjaramoodu*

Now the sound comes

Now I cannot stop

The neighbours might hear me

My gaze falls on

The crimson on the 'On' button

The laughter gurgles to a stop

I get up

The wipe cloth must be retrieved. 

-

Chandni Girija

April 13, 2021

*Scene from the movie 'The Great Indian Kitchen'

Day 13 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Misunderstood

Black

Of colours

The most misunderstood

And most misrepresented

Elegant as elephant tuskers

Serpentine smooth

Layered like coral

Oceanically deep

An emphatic force

That can stand individually

So much so

Even the rainbow is secretly jealous

Black is judged

When onto others

Felt as a feeling

Relatively 

Thrust as derogatory

On those below

Black is

Rarely owned

Maybe blindness is blackness

But remember

Whiteness is what

Causes blindness

So step out of the light

Wear a pair of shades maybe

The world will be

Of softer hues

Much more bearable

And in turn

Much more lovable

In fact

Bend your head

Look at yourself

In your chest

Hiding the memory

Of the deed

You did

You didn't

Or you almost did

Smiling at you

Sardonically

Is your very

Blackness

-

Chandni Girija

April 12, 2021

Day 12 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Good Feeling

I try to remember

Something different had happened today

The remnant feeling pulls attention

As space in my head clears

Sensation meets linguistic recognition

Memory box in the head is shaken

Reflection and rumination

Other feelings are stirred

A single human

A body

A brain

A mind

So many processes

I had laughed hard today

Very, very hard

Unusual exercise

For the stomach muscles

I remembered peeing my pants

I missed being with my friends

Maharashtra talks

Of another lockdown

I am here

With my walls

Me and my walls

We have gone around

The earth's axis once

Me and my walls

Snugly fixed

In this time-space axis

However,

In this moment

I have 

To treasure

A remnant belly ache

:)

- 

Chandni Girija

April 11, 2021

Day 11 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

Deromanticising

Wounds used to be my friends

I would romanticise them

Valorise them 

Like some religions valorised poverty

Like some leaders valorised 'Harijans' 

Like some cultures valorised women

No longer do I court them

I realised clarity is power

And sorted is super-cool

Some ghosts of past are angry

And some current poltergeists chagrined 

That I no longer

Walk into their traps

But I care not

The only loss I feel

Is of 

Good, dense poetry

Ha ha!

- 

Chandni Girija

April 10, 2021

Day 10 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo

The To-Do List

Howl into the wind

Occur in wife's dream

Talk to her cat in corner

Occur in girlfriend's nap dream

Scare her dog

Whoosh through grumpy retired postman

Accelerate puddle water as car passes

Hang with bats

Go down snakehole

Buzz with gutter mosquitoes

Shake down gulmohar blossoms

Catch daughter with bramble on her walk

Whistle night breeze tune

Roll down into dust

Lie flat for indefinite time arc 

-

Chandni Girija

April 09, 2021

Prompt by #napowrimo

Day 09 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month 

Fear

It screeches inside me

Like chalk on blackboard

I appear outwardly normal 

With, perhaps,

Only my pupils betraying

The silent scream

But no one is bothered

It's just me watching me

Out-of-body me watching

Trembling-inside me

I step onto the threshold

There's no going back

Both me's collide now

And freeze

My only awareness

Is the black form inside

It smiles at me

Gah!

The smile cuts into me

Like a knife

Something left my body

I could feel the 'whoosh'

I can feel my forehead's paleness

I dig my heels in

I hold my stare

It's now or never

It's now or never

C'mon ... 

- 

Chandni Girija

April 08, 2021

Day 08 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

Little Rascals

Meera plops over the tangled charging wire

Kanha on my right near my arm

My OCD bulb turns on

The table isn't 'neat' anymore

I suppress my urge to plonk them down

I look at them instead,

I take a pause

Meera sniffs the air with her chin up,

Her way of saying 'howdy'

Kanha is busy bathing himself

It occurs to me

For these little rascals

The lockdown has been good

Summer, rains, a winter has passed

They have had me by their side

Kanha in fact started having separation anxiety 

On closing the door to my room

"Yes mister, what about the time

When I wouldn't be home the whole day?"

He's just like a devious child

Learning new tactics to get his way

Meera healed from a nasty dog bite

Growing closer to me

As I nursed her

Teaching me

Distances between two companions 

Are malleable 

The neighbour's grandson just turned two

He loves going closer to them

His shrieks scare Meera and Kanha

They know not to drop in on weekends

When he would be visiting his grandma

We continue to be a rest stop

For Tillu

As soon as as she comes

All she wants is food

And a bit of my attention

Before settling into a deep slumber

In one of her favourite spots

Meera jumps down from the table

Kanha follows a bug's trail

I notice the smile on my face

It occurs to me

My lockdown has been easier

Due to these little rascals

-

Chandni Girija

April 07, 2021

Day 07 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

Also, this is my hundredth blog post! Yay!

Hope

"Rush!"

"Rush," I tell myself

I hasten my bath

I speed up my chores

Feed the cats hurriedly

I put the water to boil

I finally sit down

With the steaming cuppa 

At my table

I look outta the window

I am several knots of feelings

Anxiety rules I think

The biggest knot makes of work

Work and endless pile of work

Depression hides I guess

Like a carbonated bubble

It's evasive of the surface

It's hearkened by the long, dark path

That has snaking all of us through

Since more than a year

That still has us in its hold

Oh, where is deliverance?!

This knot has an unusual smell

And yet I know what it is

It smells of common human misery

Like hair burnt somewhere

You know it's hair burning

For you have smelt it before

Brown hair, black hair, grey hair

Long hair, curly hair, matted hair

Whatever hair!

Smells the same as it burns

Money is another knot

A pulsing knot

Of incessant calculations

Skip, keep skipping

Keep doing the dance

Ahead a step or half

Or this knot could become a noose

I look at the light outside

Bathing the plants, the road, the vehicles

I am greedy for these

These last snatches of sunlight

I have a naive wish upon them

I believe if I sit with them

If I sit with my work

My burdened body

These rays will carry me through

I could latch on to their momentum

Like a cyclist onto the back of a truck

Be accelerated 

Be given that extra push that I crave

And helped through this patch of my path

This one patch

And then tomorrow I could muster

For the next one

I take a sip of my tea

My dry eyes turn on to the screen

My fingers roll up their sleeves

I type my first word. 

- 

Chandni Girija

April 06, 2021

Day 06 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

एकांत

दरवळणारा गुलमोहराचा फूल बोलला-

"का तिथेच थांबलीस?

पाखरूबाई, ये ना जवळ

तुझ्या रंगांनी मला स्पर्श कर ना

तुझा जांभळा माझ्या पिवळ्यात मिसळू दे ना!"

फुलपाखरू म्हणाली,

"नाय राव, माझा इस्वास नाय तुझ्यावर

ह्यावर्षीला पिवळा, पुढच्याला लाल असशील नाय तू?

ग्वाड ग्वाड बोलून फसवून घेशील

माझं मग व्हायचं काय?"

फूल लबाड न्हवताच 

पण भूतकाळातली फसवणुकीची दोरी 

आजही फुलपाखरूच्या मानेवर 

गुंतून होती 

लांबशी दोरी, बर्याच गाठी 

फुलपाखरू कशी सुटेन?

आज फूल एकटाच राहिला 

फुलपाखरूही एकटीच 

तो जुणा अपराध मात्र 

काळाच्या ऍक्सिस वर 

लांबावत लांबावत चाललाय. 

-

चांदणी गिरीजा 

एप्रिल ०५, २०२१  

Day 05 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

Hierarchy of Gods

Somewhere in Shahpur Jat

Some people are heartbroken

Women are crying angrily

And cursing silently 

That is all they can do

They fear the local goons 

Who uprooted the Sai Baba idol

In their Purana Shiv Mandir

Could uproot them too

With the very same crowbar

Somewhere some pot-bellied men

Made a roster of gods

Sai Baba was annulled

For he was 'Chand Miyan'

He preached universal love

For he was a jihadi

As the goons struck the hammer

Five times

Into Baba

Ideas were murdered several times

The thumps fell

On rock-bed of syncretism

On folk forms of belief and faith

The thumps fell

On plurality of existence

Baba's rubble was thrown away

History was sanitised 

In his stead

Ganesha was installed

Marking the most auspicious of beginnings 

The temple bells now

Wait like udders.

- Chandni Girija

April 04, 2021

Day 04 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

*Shahpur Jat is a neighbourhood in South Delhi