Reading poetry

I jump into your quagmire

wading through greys 

like a sieve, between fiction

and places that aren't.

Stained with what sticks 

I wish the rest remains 

water under a bridge.

Tell me, 

did you jump in naked too?

Published in The Woman Inc Poetry Series on 03/02/2021 link: https://thewomaninc.com/2021/02/03/twi-poetry-reading-poetry-vaira-mookkutti/

Vaira mookutti

keloids shine alongside stones,
survival of the right nostril
threatened by her maamiyaar
who aggressively strives
to home in a fat pin
into allergic skin
with an almost,
maternal enthusiasm

she rescues herself
resorting to
talagaani mantram
after the third attempt.

decades later,
her great grand daughter yelps
as she pushes it home,
satisfied that she looks
vintage, traditional, kitsch.


Vaira mookutti : diamond nose pin
Maamiyaar : mother in law
Talahaani mantram : pillow talk

Published in The Woman Inc Poetry Series on 03/02/2021 link: https://thewomaninc.com/2021/02/03/twi-poetry-reading-poetry-vaira-mookkutti/

Thud!

A familiar sound

drops boulders in my belly
a second before i open the door.

a skull that hit the floor, now bobs up
to greet me in silent relief

Guilt boils over, I let out an angry yowl,
She joins in, confused
I hug her, kneeling on the floor

amidst debris of broken embankments
pillows and bolsters mis-navigated
in her flight from the bed

Fear drives shame away. For a while,
I keep the bathroom door open as vigil,
postponing worldly lessons
to a later date.

Published in The Mom Egg Review, Range of Motherhood folio on 14/09/2020 

link: http://momeggreview.com/2020/09/14/thud-by-pooja-ugrani/

Cheluvi

streaked with rivulets 

you run through me, 

fragmented islands 

submerge, resurface 

in eyes that hold 

azure tessellations.

I blush a bristly persistent pink,

tear away only to know 

I am consumed.

I let you in 

to become the raintree.

Cheluvi- 

a film directed by Girish Karnad (1992) is the story of a girl who could convert herself to a tree.

Published in The Tiger Moth Review, Issue 5 on 26/01/2021
link: https://www.thetigermothreview.com/blog/cheluvi

Jamun

Over a bowl, we share
our stories of the fruit.
I sing a song from Jait Re Jait
about a dhol played under a tree.
She sticks her tongue out
wanting it to emerge purple
like Neema's from her story book.

A cautious bite, a clean roll
and a seed spat out,
leave terrains on my agile tongue
that I stick out to entice her.
Unconvinced, she decides
to lick a jamun, only for its colour.

The astringent bites her tongue.
She runs behind me, wanting
to cleave my frozen ruts,
plough through tightened textures,
waving a pink comb for relief.

Jamun – Java plum

Jait Re Jait is a 1977 Indian Marathi language film directed by Dr. Jabbar Patel whose story revolves around a tribe named Thakar

Dhol - drum

Published in The Alipore Post as 3 poems on Motherhood on 17/02/2021

https://www.thealiporepost.com/post/3-poems-on-motherhood-by-pooja-ugrani

Holes

she punches my eye blue
a toe nail, storing clotted blood
remains black for months
after she drops a heavy vessel
on it

the reflex to strike back
that I never tamed
and always gave back to the world
I now withhold with caution

count, breathe, seethe. don't act
she doesn't know it hurts,
sees me in pain and hugs me
still confused about what she did
it is always a game for her

yet, when all hell breaks loose
for the umpteenth time
after I have, in a low sincere voice
tried to explain
she still refuses to listen

the physical force of her body
overpowers me,
flailing limbs land hurtful kicks
punches make my arms give way

I bite my lower lip,
make big eyes, hold her arm
and place a carefully weighed
whack on her behind
with a third of the force
I feel inside

rage boils over, a moment
of regained control sears holes
in me and in her
that may take a lifetime to heal

01.06.2020

Published in The Alipore Post as 3 poems on Motherhood on 17/02/2021

https://www.thealiporepost.com/post/3-poems-on-motherhood-by-pooja-ugrani

Expecto Patronum

my toddler in the colony park
breaks out into a wild dance
celebrating the wind
that sways huge trees all around her,
just when the evening storm is setting in
I egg her home
run behind her screaming "Slow, slow!"
with my jhola full of groceries
as she speeds up in her pink scooter.

This creates my shield
fights a world that has become so gory
I cannot understand it anymore
I need help today
for I have knelt down
hung my head in shame

She makes me get up and dance with her,
we blow raspberries at each other,
create bubbles with our saliva,
birth marks become burp marks
we hunt for muddy puddles
where three different bow bows
and diaper wearing snakes made caca

She makes me
forget a little, live a little.
She is not my Horcrux,
she is what my Patronus is made of.

01.06.2020

Published in The Alipore Post as 3 poems on Motherhood on 17/02/2021

https://www.thealiporepost.com/post/3-poems-on-motherhood-by-pooja-ugrani