By Chaitra Hegde
I live in a country
With mice, cattle
Cinemas, movies
Heroines, skins
Battles, battle-goers
Bad bad men
And godmen of many a kind.
I live in a country of
Wells, cattlehouses
Culling houses. Children cry
Jackfruits fall down from the tree
Mothers come running, lift the kid,
Look at the winkie
To make sure
Next generation of fathers
Comes out alright.
Crows caw at night
They don’t see seducers coming
They are all oblivious to the night
They have given up their sleeps, long ago
When we gained freedom
From the clutches of foreigners
Of white skin, pink noses, and labia of various shapes.
I am not complaining. River flows into sea
Looks around, and hides
All its genitalia
So that
Fish don’t eat it
Fish don’t devour it
Fish are naughty.
Yesterday night
I saw another godman
Devour my husband
He was holding his winkie
And winked at me
I became part of a goddess calendar
Looking at all people in my household
Even my own son
Holding his wife
In his bedroom.
I am a goddess now
Goddess alright.
I am an M F Hussain painting
A Tagorean muse.
I died long back
In Gandhi’s arms.
He tested me, my vagina, to test
His own virginity.
I am a big bosomed woman now. Feeding the country
The entire world. My arms are open.
You can ram into me, and ask me to open up.