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

The Wait

On the rock by the road

In the silence of absent breeze

As the leaves of the banyan solemnly watched

And a row of red ants dignifiedly approached 

On the rock by the road

The sparrow lay still

Waiting for the bus

- Chandni Girija

April 03, 2021

Day 03 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

Unticking the Boxes

Up and down

Up and down

Up and down

No, wait!

Step down from the seesaw

Pull out your phone

Take a pic of that seesaw

And share it on WhatsApp

But wait, before you send!

Do you see the 'edit' option?

Click the 'pen'

You get a range of colours

Arranged in a meshed, flowy manner

It's called a 'spectrum'

All your life you were taught

Gender was polar

North or south

Venus or Mars

XX or XY

Oh no, you knew, you say?

You knew about 'XXY'?

You saw the Hijras in train, you say?

You even gossiped how they were such a nuisance 

Or, you gave them five rupees for the 'blessings?'

Did you pause to think about them?

As an actual living person

Did you attempt to strike a conversation with them

A 'normal' conversation 

About your irritating spouse and your insufferable boss?

Impossible, isn't it?!

The Hijra in your train was a fringe co-traveller

To be noticed and then forgotten

Go back to your school

Did you ever wonder how many of your school mates

In the morning assembly

Did not fit into the 'girls' and 'boys' lines?

Were some of them suffocating their own truth?

Or did some not even make it to your school?

Separated from their families and 'normal' world

Forced to live in their own community?

When you raise your voice against rape

Did you know there are other genders routinely raped?

Did you know transgenders are often denied medical treatment

Their complaints not registered by police?

And did you know about people like Dr. Trinetra Haldar

Prof. Manabi Bandyopadhyay?

Judge Joyita Mondal 

Sub-inspector K Prithika Yashini?

All of them broke the shackles

Of the polar scale

And stamped their existence on the world

You say you read about them

But did you pause to think of the plights

We caused them?

Despite knowing there are many boxes

We insist on living on as if there were only two?

Just 'knowing' won't help

Break down those apostrophes around your eyebrows

Shake off the linear seesaw worldview

Go reach out to a transgender

Strike a real conversation

Befriend them 

That, my friend,

Will be a step towards liberation

Not for them

But for you!

- Chandni Girija

April 02, 2021 

Day 02 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021 #transpride

In honour of International Transgender Day of Visibility celebrated on March 31. Dedicated to all transgender people, living their lives openly and bravely and those, still closeted, in fear, biding their time. 

Madan Ice Cream Parlour

The street used to be much quieter then

Fewer vehicles, fewer people, fewer shops

I used to read its name as 'Madam'

And think it belonged to 'Madam'

Our school principal

Who incidentally lived on the same street

Hands held, we would be walking

As it would get near

A bubble of excitement would rise up my chest

And burst through a chirp out of my mouth

Looking at her askance

Eyes lit up, I would ask her,

"Which rank do you want, Amma?"

Madan Ice Cream Parlour was neither grand

Nor nondescript

Neither big nor small

But it was a happy place

It held dreams, tiny dreams of little children

It had so many flavours,

Of which chocolate was my favourite

I would negotiate with Amma

Starting from tenth 

I would go up to first three

I never stood among the first three in class

But I always got my ice cream

Warm-eyed, hiding a chuckle,

Amma would always indulge me

The only time I did not want ice cream

Was after my tonsils operation

The soft vanilla flavoured cream in a paper cup

Was a horror to swallow

I had to be forced as my throat screamed in agony

Days later, I would pass the shop again

With Acchan this time

I told him that the doctors had advised me ice cream

It was a full-bodied fib

My throat had completely healed

And yet I felt such glee

As I licked the ice cream

Amma was never fooled

But Acchan sincerely fell for it.

It feels fuzzily funny looking back

That I would desire something like this

Tiny, sweet, creamy dreams of a child,

Costing between 10 and 15 rupees

Spinning little machinations to fulfil them

Which was the flavour I had that day,

With Acchan?

Was it chocolate in a crunchy cone

Or was it a chocobar?

I should feel guilt,

At least a little bit

But I am filled with a glow

A warm, happy, fuzzy glow

As I remember.

Thank you Amma and Accha. 

- Chandni Girija

April 01, 2021

Day 01 of 30 | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo #napowrimottt2021

*Amma - Mother in Malayalam

*Acchan - Father in Malayalam 

तंटा

तुझा माझा तंटा

म्हातारा झालाय गं

तू तरुण आहेस अजून परी

तुझ्या 'घेऊन बसण्याल्या' अजून धार आहे

म्हातारी होशील ना

तेव्हा ज्या गोष्टींचा त्रास करुन घेतेस

त्यांचाच सौंदर्य दिसेल तुला बघ!

शरीराच्या म्हातारपणाचं एक आहे मात्र

शरीर कुठेना कुठे जाउन थांबतोच

मग त्या क्षणाला 

फोन लावायला 

ही म्हातारी मैत्रीण असेल का?

- चांदणी गिरीजा

बेचैनी

रंग भरना इतना आसान न होता

गर ये नादानी न होती

रंग तो भिखरे पडे थे

इन्हे परखना इतना आसान न होता

गर ये आतुरता न होती

फर्श तो बाँझ पडा था

इसका रंगोली से फुलना इतना आसान न होता

गर ये बेचैनी न होती

ये तेरी बेचैनी न होती

कुछ करने कीं

कुछ कुछ करने कीं

कुछ करते रेहने कीं

ये तेरी बेकली

ये खारिश न होती

दोस्त, सलाम मेरा

सलामत रहें तेरी ये लालसा!

- चांदनी गिरीजा

31-10-16

bobbing

Let's climb to the lighthouse like structure

The one bobbing over sea

Let's jump from this horizon to that

Let's enter the alienship like crown of the structure

Enter, close the glass

Enter, then look up

At the starry world above

Pupils dilating with wonder

Let each random thought bubble ease outta ears

And each bubble flow to each other

Let us each hear those bubbles

Let them fizzle out in our warmth

In a care ridden of everything

Let us, on the sea

Just bob for a while

Touch

 Don’t say you touch my skin

My skin is not mine

It is my mind’s

A mind that thinks

A mind that feels

Thinks so much that it explodes

Feels so much that it melts

Tell me now

Now, do you want to touch me?

And if we had to, now

If we did,

How would it be,

If we made love?

Discordance

The chords of my throat
Strum again that tune
The despicable tune of melancholy
The synchronicity is beautiful
Like the mewling of a goatling
Or the meowing of a kitten
That reaches the tender pockets of your bossom
You want to pick up that thing,
Stroke away its distress
That tune reaches a pocket in your head too
The pocket of flowiness
You want to pick up a paintbrush
And action that tune into colours
That thing here is me
That tune is me
The listener too is me
Only a larger pocket in my head speaks up
It says,
"Shut up, shut up, you ... thing.
Get up, get up
And go about your day."
I get up, get up
Sighing
I put the water to brew for the tea
I pull loose my pony-tail
I tie the rubber-band around the throat chords
Silence.
Work.
Adulthood.
- 07-10-18

चित्र

मला तुझ्यात काय आवडलं?

तसे काहीच नाही.

वर-वरचं हसून बोलायला शिकलेय मी

माझ्यातलं माझेपण लपवायला शिकलेय मी

मी तुझं कौतुक केला असेन तर

त्यावर जाऊ नकोस

पण एक चित्र डोळ्यांवर ठसून आहे

निरोप घेऊन मी वळत असतांना

तुझ्या सावलीचा एक भाग दिसत होता

तू दोन क्षण थांबला होतास तिथे

त्या थांबण्यात ओढ न्हवती

काळजी होती

"ही जात आहे का व्यवस्थित?"

मऊपण होतं त्या सावलीच्या तुकड्यात

बाकी तुझ्या वर-वरच्या रेषांशी 

माझं इतकं घेणं-देणं नाहीये

कळलं का आता

काय आवडलं ते?

-चा.गि.
13-10-18

Fire on my Tongue

I don't Wanna Write

"Are you afraid?"
"..."

"Of what?"
"..."
"It is okay to express; it is good"
"!!!"
"It is okay to be vulnerable; it is good"
"_"
"No, don't look down at those scars.
It is okay to have them; it is good"
"_#$_"
"Don't curse me silently"
":):)"
"Now you smile!"
"The world is noise.
Sometimes, it is okay to be silent; it is good."

- 18-01-19

हट्ट

थेंबाच्या मनात आलं
कोरड्याला जरा ओलं करावं
पण कोरडा हट्टीच

- Jan 27, 2019

मंटो

दोस्तों ने कहा, मैं पागल हूँ 

घरवालों ने इसके सबूत इखट्ठा किये 

मेरा तो खुदसे भरोसा उठ गया 

मैक्रोफोने को पकड़े थरथरा रही थी मैं आज

गले से आवाज रोंदी सी आ रही थी

वह शायद सीने से रोना ही निकल रहा था

भाषण के लब्ज़ों में 

लोगों को बुरा लगा 

भाषण के बाद पीठ थप-थपाये, प्रोत्साहित कर रहे थे

शाम को तुझसे मिली

लैपटॉप के परदेह पर तू हिल रहा था, और जी मैं रही थी 

अच्छा लगा

खुदसे मिलकर

मेरी मेरे पागलपन से पूरी पहचान हो गयी 

मुझे समझ आया 

जैसे माइग्रेन-वाले इंसान को रोशनी सहन नहीं होती

मैं उन्हें सहन नहीं होती 

उनके माइग्रेन-भरे सरों में 

मैं एक अपवाद हूँ 

बीमार तो वो हैं मंटो 

पागल तो वो हैं!

- चाँदनी गिरिजा 
२८-०१-१९

Unbecoming

I accept my unbecoming

Grace, oh grace!

As you crush my back

As I twist

Snap

And fall

As I fall,

In the falling

In the hitting

As my body hits the ground

As my limpness hugs the dust

In the hitting

In the hugging

In this burst of velocity

And the stillness after it all

I smile

Oh grace, oh grace,

I am uncontained with mirth

Look at it, grace!

Look how its crimson spreads above me

Gaseously 

Not swirling

Not in any proud clouds

Quietly lifting above

Hugging the world

On it goes, grace!

As you crouch near me

As we both wait

For the endness of the crimson

Which we know is not coming

In this moment

In this silence

In my complete giving

And my knowing

Oh grace,

We smile

Both of us

Like comrades of a batallion 

You through your twinkle

And me through my red, liquid gurgling

So beautiful this is, grace, 

A beauty such that it excruciates  

I accept this pulsating crucifixion, grace!

I accept your lesson

This unravelling

I accept my grace!

- July 12, 2020

निनाद

आवाज होतंय
आत आवाज होतंय
माझी मांजरं माझ्याशी बोलतात
तसलं काहीतरी
शब्द नेमके कळत नाहीये
पण स्वर कळत आहे
त्रस्त
त्रस्त
कोणालातरी सांगायला हवंय
पण सांगण्यासाठी शब्द कोठे माझ्यापाशी?
रौद्र स्वरात आवाज करू?
त्यांनातरी काय कळणार?
त्यांना ऐकायचं तरी असेल का?
नको
नकोना
झाडाच्या एकांतात का त्याची पानं पडतात?
हिवाळा नसतो, वारा नसतो
तरी त्याची पानं पडतात
त्यानेच पाडली असावीत,
नाही का?
झाड रडत ही न्हवता ना
पानांनी मग घेतलं असावा
झाडाचा निनाद त्यांच्या अंगात
म्हणून स्वतःहून फाडून घेतलं असावा
त्याच्या फांदीवरून
त्याच्या अंगावरून
स्वतःला
पानांना दुखलं असेल का?
आणि
ज्या मातीवर ती पानं पडली
त्या मातीने तरी ऐकलं असेल का?!
- 

०८-०३-२०

Little Fever

I get on in the bustling feminine crowd
It's huge for a 5 PM-Ghatkopar
A Karjat local can suprise you this way
It is consistently crowded :)
Ah, the consistensies of life!
The crowd is a creature
Irritable and heckling
Pitted deep
Like a silly, child-abused ragdoll
Pitted deep in the belly of this creature
I pause and look at myself
My ghost climbs up the railing
And lies peacefully on it
Unhindered by lady bags
I look down at myself
I look up at myself
Our eyes meet
And I realise
I am bored
Bored by disappointments
The dailiness of disappointments
The consistency :)
Life is hard, life is a battle
I accept
But each day, to swallow
That life is pedestrian too?!
Is caste the issue?
Gender?
Religion, identity?
Is poverty the issue?!
When I grew the eyes to see
It used to shock me
But when shocks are daily
Shocks become numb
Shocks become 'reality of life'
You learn 'acceptance'
You chug 'on' with it
Like a silly, child-abused rag doll
You sway sideways
You sway back-and-forth
You match pace with the violent rhythm
The violent rhythm the world teaches you
'Is life'
I blink at myself
I blink back
I look down and sigh
The belly of creature rumbles in angry tones
This creature
This, this, this creature
Would prefer to keep its ugliness
Would prefer to fest in it
It would prefer its pettiness
Its passive-aggressiveness
To harbour and cultivate its hurt
And to hurt and multiply the hurt
This, this, this creature
Would prefer anything but healing
I sigh again, and look up
My railing ghost is sleepy
She yawns at me,
Bored.

- 
31-01-20

Porous

Thank you.
Did you look above today?
Did you see the bird-shaped hole in the sky?
Flapping with your motion
Moving as you move
No, wait, I think it was the moon
Or was it my wound,
Revealed in milky momentum
On your silver-framed glasses?
I had forgotten how porous I am
Once touched,
The touch proceeds
Like filter coffee
To leak through
Through and through holes
Holes through holes
To dungeons
And whole hidden kingdoms.
I had forgotten,
Thank you.