Cement progeny
Like all the girls in the world, she also, in the beginning with the veil pulled down to her face, was like a jasmine bud feeling shy even to open the petals out. In her legs deers would dance. Dreams would take over her eyelids. Black clouds like musty elephants in a group would enter her hair. Feet, hands, and every body part, jump up like brooks of youthful scent. Moonlight spilling on to her lips, greeting the tooth line, would get sunk into the body.
While walking she would be like a walking Aarti.
That girl’s father's feet, hands and brain would keep working all the while somewhere. At midnight he would reach home with eyes flaring up like lanterns with their last fire. He would suffer from poverty like leprosy. Poverty was eating away all his body parts gradually. That disease is transmitted on to the house walls, into the material in the place, and to the people there.
Mother was a dirty wiping cloth in the kitchen. She turns into an incessant cough and curl on the torn mat. She submits self to family life, that comes home at midnight with smoke-smitten lantern eyes and half and half body parts.
There's not much difference between the home and the dirt heap on the street. Like a rose plant on the garbage heap that girl grew up even before watching herself.
All the body parts turned into beautiful blossoms. That he would plant her in a pot, watch against goats eating her away, would patch up and make many more beautiful flowers bloom, a young man came flying from the books and next street.
In his words, intoxicating drinks are there.
In his eyes flower arrows that would never miss the aim are there.
In his sighs tender creepers that would sweetly bind up are there.
His shirt has jingling pocket.
His body has boiling blood lake.
In his hands a secret key is there that would silently open hearts.
Even before she could decide whether to permit it or not, he opened her heart and took over the entire body. Days burnt away like incense sticks.
Beads of promises turned into fragrant plant leaves.
Holidays were over.
Equally fast as he came, he ran away into distant college books.
Never closed the windows while departing. Not even closed the doors. When dreams took over the eyes opening the heart wide, hurt it and went away.
Right at the main door, turning into a tree, though a sapling she was, with eyes whose lids are plucked away, the girl searched.
Later many kinds of lock sellers came to the door. All of them were thieves of locks and never were able to listen to the heart’s sounds. Some of them exchange new locks for the old, the others could turn new locks also into rusty ones fast. All those iron sellers need keys to open iron safes. That's all.
They would all bring many animals along. All those animals would forever bark in human language, bite, father and son, brothers, uncle nephews, brothers in law many kinds of animals used to come.
One with his paunchy belly smells of khaddar. Another reeks of contracts. One spits into the body for a while and run away climbing on to a bus or a rickshaw like a sinner. Another one spits all through the night noisily and even before dawn would slip away with the normal face stuck on to him. The dermal language of all of them is the same. None of them listens to the heart beats.
Skin cracking up in the way of spitting. Bark of the body tree is falling in pieces. Even then desire never dies. One time or the other, he would come this way. Feels pity. Would make once again, love blossom in the heart. Weaves a jasmine trellis with home, children and happy family. She never stopped looking into the faces on the road, for him, going around streets whenever possible, sitting in a corner of the park and coming back.
One day it was very late in the park itself. No food for the last two days. Weakness all over. When started thinking of going home, rain started. She ran towards the shed in a corner of the park and entered it. Whatever was there on the body as clothes were already wet. Rain increased along with lightning. Stony floor below, and tin sheets on the top. Rain was not spilling onto her. Thinking it was no problem she snuggled in a corner. No one was there around. Faint light from a far-off lamp. Rain.
In lightning when seen
it appeared, somebody was sleeping next there. She felt like sinking and looked
carefully. When once again lightning was there and she saw, felt like laughing
even at that sad moment.
That was the statue of a great political leader who once ruled that village like a monarch. While alive he adorned many a position. They said he has no bone in his hand. They also said Sri Maha Vishnu took himself incarnation in this form just to serve people. They said he was a treasure for the poor people. Reformer they said. Statue that once stood majestically upon a platform in the middle of the park and received adoration is lying in the shed after opposition leaders came to power.
She leaned on to the cement statue and rested. Not aware when the sleep crept over. Rain continued falling. Body curling on the floor in the corner, she fell off like a tree in the typhoon. She slipped into a sweet sleep.
Old dream.
Dream of the day when she is spent with him covered her as a blanket.
He came along with an innocent animal face. Knocked at the door.
He repented. Asked to be excused.
Again, opened lock of the heart. Filled the entire house with autumn heavily, forcefully with intoxicating smells of words. She closed her eyes in his embrace. Flew away in ecstasy. Tired, she reached the coast and fell.
Rain swelled. What started as beating with pebbles, gradually turned into boulders being rolled in the sky. Water sword cutting the wind with vengeance. It is chasing the earth. Somewhere a thunderbolt fell. That thunderbolt landed on her eyelids. It fell in her heart. Landed on her dream.
In a moment she woke up. Sleeping prone tried to get up. She could not. Collecting all the strength in the body she tried to get up but could not. Something is sleeping on her heavily. It's like a log. It's like a stone slab and is not allowing her to move. Feeling like being pressed into the earth. Once again, lightning boomed. In that light she could see where she was and what was on her. Collecting the strength of all the atoms in her body, she pushed aside the cement body lying on her and stood up. In another flash she looked below.
Cement statue. Statue of the political leader looking only at her and smiling. It is again trying to pull her into his hands. She was trying to pull the displaced saree again around her body.
So, in the dream she was in that statue’s embrace. Statue’s hands were coming forward laughing lecherously to catch hold of her again. She lost her senses and came out running into the rain. In confusion lost the path. Later some time she reached home.
She was pregnant.
With cement strength, another plant’s body took roots in among the stones. She could not pluck out that plant.
Lightning as if skies’ belly split and guts thrown out.
Incessant dirty rain on the body. All over the world's burial ground, howling wild animals with their keylike faces like skeletons growing in numbers. Even so hope in her never abated. Some time or the other he would come. Would wash wounds. Would blow love flute next to the heart once again.
Another rose sapling is growing on the garbage heap. It is going to bloom with a thousand petals. It is going to come into the cement hands, under the feet, and all the filthy organs and would be suppressed.
Political leader beasts not just while alive but even after death and turning into statues would turn futures of people dark and add numbers to own offsprings.
Does nature also not want to monitor its own creation!
Creation is shameless.
