Here is Dr. Roopali’s evocative and soulful poem, exclusively for Different Truths
The large shady Bargad tree Its hard twisted tentacles hanging low swinging free Medusa like just outside the temple wall where from dawn to dusk the devout buy flower garlands at the makeshift stall. The mud hard baked platform around it where once sat blind musicians whose eyes did not see now sleepless Kanamma, the mad woman waits all day, her beloved left her, and she let grief take her mind away, those who bring incense and coconut, for the stone god with the elephant head say. His fingers had run through her long black tresses, sometimes touching her breasts stopping her breath his dark skin shining like Krishna, they had lain supine in the tingling sands of the river Yamuna. Her matted hair crawl full of lice the itchy fingers throwing pebbles at nibbling mice the scattered puffed rice offerings at the altar of an indifferent god. Kanamma is waiting. He is not coming. He has found a pretty girl whose skin is fair with golden hair… Boo boo shoo shoo. Mothers chase the jeering kids Don’t be bad She is mad Can’t you see she is raving mad? Her wild waiting eyes Her cracked mumbling lips Her scratched bleeding skin Her sunken hungry belly Her torn saree and blouse Her hair full of louse Her home without a house Her mind nobody can rouse. Will Krishna never come? Will Radha wait forever? The sun has dried up the river The anklets lie broken and scattered. The temple bells are ringing Come come let’s bathe with milk and honey and dress in satin our marble God.
Poet’s Note: A common sight in India as we grew up was the lone woman under a large banyan tree whose physical state, torn saree, torn blouse, an itchy lice filled head, a bag of torn rags and a dishevelled persona could be found in permanent residence under the tree. Turned out of home and hearth and labelled mad because mental health is a stigma, a victim of naughty children and predatory men.
Visual by Different Truths
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