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

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