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

Two feet

Two feet witness
those toiling to reach home,
witness the sum of all things unjust,
all seasons adverse, weathered,
shaped by the unprecedented.

Two feet find
the will to break barriers
that segregate, cage, dictate
leap over fears that open out
possibilities to be shared as humans.

Two feet unravel
knots around identity,
enriching such choices
of what is imbibed and what is kept out,
find their way through a tunnel that connects.

18.05.2020

Published in hākārā: a bilingual journal of creative expression, Turbulence, Issue 12 in September 2020 

https://www.hakara.in/pooja-ugrani/

To giraffes who keep their necks above the clouds

aspire to reach the sun
pine hard, long enough
that anatomy changes

crane up to bask
in the effervescent sunlit sky
at a hot air balloon's height

then, also, stick your head
into the bedazzling brilliance
of a jumped-in monsoon puddle

follow the sun to the ground
the linear path imagined
shall curl into a spiral

bend down harder and
you may see light shining
under you, inside you

laden clouds around your neck
cast shadows, obscure vision
'other' the world

don't you want to be
bigger than what shaped you?



30.04.2020

Published in hākārā: a bilingual journal of creative expression, Turbulence, Issue 12 in September 2020 

https://www.hakara.in/pooja-ugrani/

Knife and phone

I sit down to enjoy my art

with a knife and phone

a faint hunger works up
after listless hours of scrolling,
satiated by plating colours,
textures, guising gnawing boredom

an elaborate post production
followed by regular reporting
to imagined drools, likes,
hearts and compliments

a click later, the deafening roar of
aeon travelled stomachs
shatter my plate. I gulp splinters

stab what is left
of hunger inside

15.04.2020

Published in hākārā: a bilingual journal of creative expression, Turbulence, Issue 12 in September 2020 

https://www.hakara.in/pooja-ugrani/

C

"I can draw a C on your bum
when you stand sideways"
was when i started using
three limp layers
to drown a C of flesh

extending below waistline
slits on the sides
of a straight cut,
accommodate the C
aid locomotion, on land

to inspire flight,
one would need
to cut, rotate and hinge
these fluttering flaps
along a perpendicular axis

today
they instigate
agonizing, culture driven,
guilt ridden cover-ups
of what is already covered

anarkalis, with spacious insides,
expand auras, promise more fun;
they billow, cajole to spin,
to mirror infamous aunts
blown up by Harry Potter

An accessible grab
in the washroom
a swift pull ensuring
friction between cloth, skin, hair
To savour blissful dry hours

Fabric finds function
satiates by sucking moisture

I step out with wet patches
over time moved consciously
to improbable locations
hoping they dry off, unnoticed
for basic social acceptance

olfactory traces of rubbing my insides out
on the C covering garb marks my body
filtering heads that are invited into my lap

10.03.2020

Published in Cafe Dissensus Everyday blog in April 2020

https://cafedissensusblog.com/2020/04/07/three-poems-by-pooja-ugrani/