Two flailing oiled chotis
slap me out of stupor.
The Goddess arches out
hinged at the pole,
her saucer hands clasped
below mine.
A hooting call answered
with crystal stare
from wideapart eyes
that grazes my shoulder,
wounding me. Incoherent slang
shot through with a nasal twang.
A crisp line scarred
by ghosts of stitches drawn
on scalp with the edge of a comb
down, down the valley
of her marred maang.
The milkmaid, having borne
the consequences
of an agitated udder,
the warrior princess
sporting the memento
of unanticipated victory.
An ecstatic partner
with clammy palms, thrown
off a phugdi rotation,
Devdas marks Paro
with expressions of love
garnished with glass shards.
*** This happened one morning as I shared the foot board of a Mumbai local train with a most astonishing girl, standing in front of me.
slap me out of stupor.
The Goddess arches out
hinged at the pole,
her saucer hands clasped
below mine.
A hooting call answered
with crystal stare
from wideapart eyes
that grazes my shoulder,
wounding me. Incoherent slang
shot through with a nasal twang.
A crisp line scarred
by ghosts of stitches drawn
on scalp with the edge of a comb
down, down the valley
of her marred maang.
The milkmaid, having borne
the consequences
of an agitated udder,
the warrior princess
sporting the memento
of unanticipated victory.
An ecstatic partner
with clammy palms, thrown
off a phugdi rotation,
Devdas marks Paro
with expressions of love
garnished with glass shards.
*** This happened one morning as I shared the foot board of a Mumbai local train with a most astonishing girl, standing in front of me.
Published in The Punch Magazine, the Byword on 14/12/2019
https://thepunchmagazine.com/the-byword/poetry/her-marred-maang-and-other-poems
