Amanita Sen, INDIA

THE NEW LIFE

Just when we worried
to no ends on how she

could sail through this
vast sea of widowhood

after four busy decades
of shared mundanities,

traumas, trivia, nitty-gritties,
incessant fights and making-up,

if she could ascend the steps
remaining, without the walking-stick,

her lost partner- our father,
mother surprised us one morning

by wearing the Kashmiri shawl,
kept hidden so far, as her husband

didn’t quite approve of its colour.
Not a transgression anymore, her

small defiant act, may be her own
likings she could now redefine, explore.


YET THE SWEETS 

On the first visit to
his hometown, after

I was born, (the second
girl in the family) my

father fed his folks
with Rosogollas.

Of this sweet event-
a little too sweet for

those having fetish
for the male child,

I came to know from one,
who fixed his gaze at me

longer than usual, perhaps
to find in it the cue to this

unusual happening of sweetmeats,
the story of which made rounds,

thanks to his burping of this
much-exclaimed memory of

the wrong chromosomes
granting drool-worthy sweets.

Rosogolla - Indian Sweet made with balls of cottage-cheese and sugary syrup.


THE UNPRECEDENTED RAIN

Until that reckless pall of rain happened
wetting my tops in the clothesline
I knew dryness was the only way to be,
symbol of a tutored sanity.

Those wet clothes would give out
the contour of the body
in a manner they call 'revealing'
and senses might be hurting.

Chastity, sanctity, purity as virtues
will perhaps rise from the grave
if they are already there, to haunt,
womanhood - you better not flaunt!

Dryness will be synonymous to opacity
concealing all that needed to be and more,
sometimes through gritted teeth and tired brains,
O but for those unprecedented rains!


Amanita Sen‘s first book “Candle in My dream” was published by Writers Workshop. Since then, her works have been published in numerous anthologies and journals in her own country and abroad. She works as a mental health professional, is married and lives in Kolkata, India.

1 comment :

  1. Style is a programmed beauty perceived by the most elite centre of our brain.The cascading lines like coagulation factors keep you glued to the metaphors,silent humours and other attributes with magnetic attraction.The choice of a woman with or without a partner , wet or dry adds value to her skills and observation omnipotent in all the poems published herewith...

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