Two poems in Aainanagar

I also have two poems: 'China: a Ghazal' and 'Cocooned' in Aainanagar. The editor is the poet, Nandini Dhar, with whom I had a hot and heated debate about animal factory farming. Although she did not include that specific animal poem, here are two others. I am putting the links as well as the poems below. The link to the poems is here.


China(a ghazal)
Made in China, wrapped in China, an alien world lives in China
cellphones censorship coats and cruelty, always the lair is China

Rumours and secrets are whispered in hushed tones about China
From behind the curtains,, we curiously peep and stare at China

Slogging workers strive and slave and struggle in China
But I ask you, maker of souvenirs, is it fair in China?

Do not sit idle, do not look away. Raise your voice, Republic of China
But would you dare face the wrath and the glare of the government of China?

Exiled from their country, fled to India, where are the Tibetans in China?
‘No Country for Tibetan Men’, how do they fare, in China?

Feeding poultry till they swell to ten times their size in China
Cutting baby birds’ beaks and tails of the young mares in China

Burning them alive for their meat, skin and bone in China
The pots boiling hot with geese, ducks and hares, in China

The hunted bear in the ‘frosted’ woods ‘lovely dark and deep’ in China
Skinned alive first, butchered later, howling jumping, a flare in China

They do not deem animal sentient beings in China
But objects to be bought and sold, traded, not reared, in China

The most heavily populous country in the world is China
But the roads and the airports are empty and bare in China

The masses of people hidden in the hush of secrecy in China
Tell me why are living people to be seen so rare in China?

Aghast at the picture of violence and bloodshed in China
Shruti asks in anguish, do you care, in China?



*

Cocooned

You lie enclosed in your cocoon
And I sleep oblivious in mine.
Neighbours,
We live as strangers.
Only the whispering wind brushes
Us together, and we touch, at times.
Stray insects that crawl over you
Crawl over me too.
When the cocoons burst, will we
Recognise, will we realise
That we are sisters born
Of the same butterfly?

'Anagapesis' in The Literary Nest and 'Radhika' in Lakeview Journal

So here is 'Anagapesis' which was published in The Literary Nest. I also have another poem 'Radhika' in Lakeview journal. Putting both of these below.

Anagapesis

They say that it happens. Most of them

in their old wisdom told me that it does.

That the cells of the body lose the sense

of affection for someone they once loved.

That one unfeels. That passion turns to apathy.

Perhaps it is a desired state. A happy state.

If apathy is happy. Perhaps I could tell you

ten years later. Make that twenty. If

anagapesis is messy. If it bleeds. If it stops

halfway. Or if it is a clean aseptic cut

that I can anaesthetise. The cells of my body

don't really believe in anagapesis. That a complete

lack of affection can ever happen.

A-na-ga-pe-sis. Long word. It is a difficult word

to remember. It is easy to forget it. A-na-ga-pe-sis.

I am terribly afraid of it. Perhaps, I secretly

don't even want it to happen.

 Link to 'Anagapesis' in The Literary Nest is here.

Radhika

Barbie dolls were just dolls but she was my live six month old baby gifted by my aunt in America.

I begged my mother and aunty for old baby clothes to dress her in.

In vain, I tried to neaten her short auburn hair that wouldn’t be made.

She was always there at every game I played.

From age – to twenty two, yes I took her to college too where they called her Chucky, my poor baby.

At home I tried to rescue her from a maid’s daughter who drew inky designs on her face and a cousin brother who threw her and broke her now re-stitched arm.

In later years, I tried to name the blue-eyed baby Robin but it never stuck.

At twenty two, I gave her away. Now she stares back at me with only one eye.

Every girl has her most precious baby and her most precious doll.

Everyone has a childhood and mine is now surely lost, as surely as the other blue eye.

 Link to 'Radhika' in Lakeview Journal is here. The poem is on page 174 of this biannual international journal.