A set of five poems inspired by newspaper headlines in recent times.
Two people set out from home (or whatever
It is unclear if their homes had been bombed
1. All
Eyes on HSC Results
how
many eyes are trained
on
the higher secondary exam results,
hard
to say but eyes are slitted sleek
with
yesterday's failing
eyes
follow monkey eyes gibbering
through
a bazaar, rubbing neon
out
of the black lids of night
eyes
are fixed upon a street gone
grey
with too much going away
lost
foundlings blinded by concrete,
eyes
wait on the road divider
holding
the skeleton of a bunch of red roses
that
grazed the shin of a passerby
who
looked but saw nothing
except
a flower pot that he used
as
a spittoon
eyes
are intent on sum assured
insurance
plans and a new toffee car
bought
by a semi-friendly neighbour
with
good skin
eyes
are wildly careening between
CAT,
MAT, GRE, TYBSc,
UPSC,
PMT-PET, NET
yet,
most days they are fixed upon
the
luminous face of a PhD guide
who
won a gold medal for every exam
he
ever sat and comes to uni in blue fleece
and
real leather sandals.
*
2. Nation
Outraged After X gangrape in Y town
forty
one percent of the population
recalled
other instances of mutilation,
murder
along with the caste and age
of
various name-changed victims.
twenty
point five percent of the population
silently
measured their hemlines against
newsprint
inches devoted to the said crime.
roughly
thirteen percent of the nation
was
looking at a girl of eighteen
crossing
the road.
an
unknownable fraction of the nation
was
buying bottles of acid.
zero
point five percent of the nation
roared
about state culpability and blocked
two
arterial roads that led to a jam that will
occupy
the front page tomorrow.
the
rest of the nation was busy watering
money
plants, relieving itself
between
stalks of sugarcane,
changing
diapers and being rocked
to
sleep.
less
than one percent of the nation
had
the stomach for details of intestine,
perineum,
bladder, womb and the neck
of
a girl who swung from a tree
that
did not belong to anyone in particular.
*
Call
us Munna.
A
single name will do
for
both, and for either one.
No,
we don't have school names.
Who
went to school?
BA-MA-Doctorate
in
loading-unloading,
huh?
About
that red carpet,
there
was actually more than one.
Twenty
feet long, each one and six feet across.
Before
all this loading rolling unrolling
there
was the weaving.
Carpets,
yes, much nicer than this junk.
No,
don't ask how long that was.
There
was no calendar in the room.
*
4. Year
on, dead couple not forgiven
Forgiveness
is a trick,
a
dirty one played by children
who
have not learnt to wipe
the
green stain of love from their eyes
after
they have been thrashed.
Forgiveness
is an exposed brick house
with
no boundary wall to stop the man
who
answers the call of a she-wolf
wearing
a plaited rope of debt for an anklet.
Forgiveness
is lovers hacked
for
their art of caress undress
the
exhumation of soul from under flesh.
Forgiveness
is a foreign thing.
A
denim jacket with rivets thing.
A
plastic tweety bird ring that nobody
in
the village had ever bought and
if
the young had any thought of such things,
they'll
think twice now.
*
5. Two
Palestinians Shot Dead After Attacking Israelis
Two
people armed with knives
were
killed after they (separately)
rushed
towards (different groups of) Israelis
armed
with guns.
Two people set out from home (or whatever
remained
of that feeling called home).
It
is unclear if they kissed anyone goodbye
but
preliminary imaginings indicate
they
held that thought awhile.
It is unclear if their homes had been bombed
or
if any children died in the shelling.
It
is unclear whether they rebuilt or relocated
and
if they had, whether they were bombed
a
second time.
It
is clear they had access to kitchen knives.
It
is clear they rushed towards wielders of guns.
It
is clear the guns would be used.
The
colour of their skin is clear.
Their
olive trees, their pets, their throaty
mother
tongue, their last words were
not
so clear.
*
(C)
Annie Zaidi
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