December 20, 2021

“Thousand Faces,” Poetry by Gazala Khan

“Thousand Faces,” Poetry by Gazala Khan

1.    Thousand Faces    Ten thousand we saw in a blink,  It’s not daffodils moving along with zephyr,  With the bounties showered in plains.  This time, it’s the migrants.    The migrants,  Fighting two deadliest pandemics: COVID and hunger.  The latter is familiar   And former is in voices everywhere.    The beads of sweat rubbed by red gumcha* never evaporated,  The yearning to return home is discernible.    One of them named Sakina walked a thousand kilometers for days  So did many others.  The kaccha house** awaited her arrival  But the journey never culminated.    Abandonment commenced,  The invisible guest reigned   Bleeding toes, sunburnt faces and many empty stomachs  Fastened their way to homes.    Beyond every pain, the rest of us numbed still moved on.  And the second harrowing journey began.    * Hindi word used in India to describe cotton towel for wiping sweat.  ** A kind of…

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March 19, 2020

“The Woman of Kutch,” Poetry by Jonathan Lloyd

“The Woman of Kutch,” Poetry by Jonathan Lloyd

The Woman of Kutch    The woman of Kutch,  Living in grasslands  Favored by raj  And ibis, flees   The earthquake and  Monsoon that leveled  The Gujarat  Three or four   Thousand years ago.    For this occasion  She wears a dress  Embroidered in red  And yellow cotton  An aba covers  The sakral which  Begins the stem   Of a sunflower rising   To a shower   Of light, all in  Mirrors, surrounded   By grassy fields.    She carries three  Steel pots of water  On her head and   With her left arm  She caresses another.  With her right arm   She shields her eyes   Against the sun,  Into which she races.    ** At  the Track  She crosses her legs, this girl of twelve, her hat  A crown, brim bouncing in a breeze. She reads  Her book, maybe–maybe not–lost in thought  Or reverie, a boy…

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January 3, 2020

“Suzy, the New Girl” by Roopa Raveendran-Menon

“Suzy, the New Girl” by Roopa Raveendran-Menon

Suzy, the new girl, and I became best friends fairly quickly. It took us around five days to be inseparable but I swear that I could have been her best pal the day she walked into the classroom.  I even remember the time—It was ten minutes to the first recess gong. Chubby Chandini had already stuffed half of the contents of her tiffin box into her mouth. I knew she had bought potato pancake—bits of yellow potato laced the little fuzz above her thin lips. I had buried my head in my textbook to swallow the loud chortle that had threatened to sneak out.  That was when Suzy had walked in.  It was hard to believe that she was wearing our dull blue and white checked uniform because she wore it so well, with the flair and grace of a diva. I…

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