My Grandmother’s House
There is a house now far away where once
I received love. The woman died,
The house withdrew into silence, snakes moved
among books, I was then too young
to read, and my blood turned cold like the moon
How often I think of going there,
to peer through blind eyes of windows or
just listen to the frozen air,
or in wild despair, pick an armful of
darkness to bring it here to lie
behind my bedroom door like a brooding
dog…you cannot believe, darling,
can you, that I lived in such a house and
was proud, and loved, I who have lost
my way and beg now at strangers’ doors to
receive love, at least in small change?
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Kamala Das, Kerala
(Born in Kerala on March 31, 1934, Kamala Das was an influential Indian poet. Das commenced her literary journey with her poetry collection, Summer in Calcutta, in 1965. Her poetry was deeply personal, exploring desire and the complexities of womanhood. Fearlessly confronting societal taboos, she explored sensuality and relationships with raw honesty.)
Bhatti (Furnace)
In the furnaces of their homes
Women offer their entire lives
And keep thinking
Perhaps!
They are ripening
Slowly but surely they will be refined
Into pure gold
Then suddenly…
Upon feeling the heat
They take a look at themselves
And realise
Hardly anything has matured
However
So much has been burned.
—Translated from Hindi by Nikhil Pandhi
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भट्टी
गृहस्थी की भट्टी
में औरतें झोंक देती हैं
अपना समूचा जीवन
और सोचती रहती हैं
शायद!
कि वे पक रही हैं
धीरे - धीरे निखर
जाएंगी कुनंदन सी
फिर अचानक...
महसूसती हैं ताप
निहारती हैं खुद को
फिर सोचती हैं कि
पका तो कुछ नहीं
किन्तु...
बहुत कुछ जल गया।
Poonam Tushamad, Delhi
(Poonam Tushamad is a Dalit feminist writer, poet, academic and activist who is the author of several publications, including Madari (2019) and Hindi Dalit Sahitya Mein Jantantrik Mulya: Ek Adhyayan (2022).)
