A canvas in blue chiffon,
My saree bore marks
In the ink blue
Of ancient hands; the
Aquamarine of the Arabian Sea;
And, the cerulean of
High skies.
Blackly shimmering, my hair
Conflicted the pasty pale
Of the jasmine strand
I coiled through, without pins
Like my mother,
Incensing the air with
A woman’s promise
Around the now empty house
I lit wicks buried in fragrant wax
And doused tungsten within glass.
I refused the comfort of
Moving air, and let the sweat
And jasmine commingle
Like chaos before peace
But you let the Sun out;
Helped it find a way around
The dark ropes of night
I bound it with…
The half moon I used to
Pin it down, lay forgotten
Behind bottomless clouds.
My Wilting jasmine wailed,
‘You hadn’t come, then’
The wicks lay wasted
Smoking like pyres
Where each fantasy
Burnt unrealised.
In this polluted silence,
I stood blue like death.
13.077165
80.277786