Friday, September 2, 2016


Young fresh faces with not a fine line
frown at you 
at the entrance
sashaying in neatly pressed uniforms 
hats that are perfectly balanced on a head
standing straight, smiles sacrificed 
in call for duty, talk with a wild posture of hands
learning directions that will set us free,
painted lips curve to not hurt the jaws
serving coffee and food on a 6 am flight
minds still imprisoned in beds that shook them off
money is their honey, a comatose mind luxury
their choice is a will
to buy objects that demand a price
as misogyny's mistresses, a size zero figure 
tip-toes on pencil heels 
slapping the floor rudely
disguises  dissapear every time
a passenger presses a button
flying freely to places 
with strange names, the only perk
for wearing this camouflage of colours.

A charade of blue and red lights
hang like swords on our heads
moving from left to right 
impatiently slaying the human sounds
cutting through the shadows of people 
swiftly jumping around the place
the curtain is raised
a woman neatly draped in yellow silk
sways wildly like the leaves of a lone bamboo tree
feet thumping on the ground, rooted to mudras
her fingers threaded with music
to weave a garment of spectacle
swallowing silence in parts
fish eyes, red lips 
flesh coloured powder 
hides marks and stains 
gulping black holes in full
after oscillating like a pendulum
her body comes to rest
as though the clock struck twelve,
a loud cheer awaits 
this dramatization of epics
that earthly brides of Gods
were once forced to gyrate to,
traditions trip as face paint peels
until the next climb on a stage
where sexualized gestures
compensate the loss of freedom.

The flight board informs me of departure
from a city that gave me a new name,
changing colours in yellow and white
neatly positioned alphabets communicate
a message, I hallucinate and imagine you
standing at the arrival gate waving at me 
like an excited child,
my travel bag is a burden I can't carry
my stooping shoulders want to rest 
my eyes will spill any moment
like heavily pregnant clouds
I remembered the last time I ever saw you
when you stood by your door
your half eaten words 
churned in my head 
if only you'd have said 
something, but your nothingness
was more than many something(s)
I gathered all of them in a moment
making a note in my phone
recalling the exact time and date
when you struggled to say goodbye
and numbed by your silence
I hoped that your mask would fall
before I enter the old creaking lift
of your building.

                              Picture Credit:


Anonymous said...

Very impressive, very touching, very poetic. Compliments.

Jitendra Mathur

Tomichan Matheikal said...

Survival depends on masks. Beautiful lines. Profound.

Durga Prasad Dash said...

Too bad the mask did not fall :(.
Loved reading it.

A Delhi Dame said...

Thank you so much.

A Delhi Dame said...

Thank you so much. I agree, most of the times masks save us.

A Delhi Dame said...

Thank you so much.

sunaina sharma said...

I loved the dancer and her mask......Brilliant...!

A Delhi Dame said...

Thank you so much.