Protest Poem

i wore my protest on my sleeve,

and stepped out of the bathroom.

'ek chai bana de, jaan,' the husband said,

although he was saffron, he let me be red.

so i got him a cup of tea.

my toddler, by then, had made airplanes

of my poster, i hugged her,

(tho i could put her into a toaster!)

second day, bhai said, 'chhoti!

dhop tez hai, na jaa, lekin,

mere dost aane wale hain,

samose bana kar jaa!'

bhabi thi maayke, bhai yaad mein hua tha aadha

hum bhi bhool gaye protest ka vaada.

the third night seemed easy,

i made it to the front door,

then a feeble voice stopped me,

'betaaaaa, garam paani!'

i swallowed my feelings,

i swallowed my pride,

i served my family, tho it felt

like my citizenship died.

at dinner then i found my way,

i laid the table but put out no food.

a printed sheet on every plate,

'read it out and read it good,'i say,

'no vadani kaval gheta* before you eat,

we the people, is what we will now read.'

*vadani kaval gheta is the marathi grace before a meal.

this was written because so few of us know our rights, everyone needs to know the preamble to our Constitution

book

i could be a book

in a rare books section

quietly breathing in shop dust

waiting patiently for you.

hoping you might pick me up.

i’ve seen you like old fashioned 

binding, and gilt edged pages. 

i’m much too ordinary perhaps.

i imagine you do find me some day

and sigh a quiet, ‘Hmm’

as you turn the pages

and discover me, I shiver

he now knows my name.

hope dislodges 

a sudden dust swirl 

that disappears into the light

shining above your head.

it’s enough to distract you

check the time on your phone.

you leave me

on the table with self help books

and silly space romances.