a decade had passed since i've been brought to this sorrowful land of nature in a boisterous crying glory. my body had, since the fateful beginnings, prospered into its new form. my bosom blossomed, my stomach pudgy with amma's love. other's seemed to sense it too. mother nature seemed to sense it too. i was hugged less by my relatives. appa would not massage coconut oil into my burnt umber skin on the stone paved backyard anymore. they said i was becoming a woman, and women shall not roam naked in the seams of banana leaf curtains, and shall begin constricting their bosoms in a wired cage disguised in peachy skin tone fabric.
the femininity in me hid herself in my ribs, in my heart, counting the arteries and counting the ribs, until she swelled out from her sheer concentration and spilled into my life, staining everything i had felt ever since with her tough onus. she arrived after a decade, and she had never left since; constantly multiplying and procreating herself into every mediocrity of my life. her presence will never be forgotten. for, when i close my eyes i can see her in all her glory, and when i open i can see her residue in all that had touched my life.
a week before my 13th birthday, my panties were stained red. red, the colour of kumkum in the temple shrines. they hissed to me the secret shared by all women, the famous secret that wasn't a secret afterall. they told i became a woman now, from a child to a woman. i realised there were 3 categories of people; child, men and women. and men didn't need blood from their intimate flesh to indicate their category. do they remain as children forever? i wonder.
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lentil rice
Poetryyouth grows on branches of mango trees. pluck them early green and bury them in rice baskets to ripen them quick. love grows on branches of guava trees. pluck them early green and they are solid teeth-breakers. pluck them late white, love melts in...
