SAMRIDDHI RAJ - POEMS

Samriddhi Raj is Pursuing her Post Graduation degree in English Literature from Ramjas College, University of Delhi. She has previously published her work in the Criterion Journal and her poem is forthcoming on Kitaab.org.

VOLUNTARY ACTS ​

The trees dislodged the leaves off their branches.
The wind turned cold.
The clock rotated like a merry go round.
The corpse on the couch gazed at a mystical screen.
Screen with flashes of beauty.
The corpse was a living man.
Breathing away each day to reach its end.

The scene on the screen flashed a smiling beauty. 
A woman with glitzy eyes and flowing hair.
Mr. Malik gulped down spit.
His dry throat ached.

The woman embraced a snake.
Snake that traced her skin and curled around her neck to choke her.
Snake that bit her neck
to infect its venom.
Mr. Malik longed for such poison.

The morgue where he was locked
now felt the cold wind.
Coughs interrupted his breathing now and then.
Mr. Malik switched off the screen.
 
His weary eyes closed.
His right palm picked an executioner
and shot him at his head.

Breeze rushed out of the morgue.
The trees were stark bare.
The man ceased to breathe.

​

Humble Monday Morning
​

Radha adores Ghalib's ghazals
She sings his poetry to her son
sipping her suitable bitter coffee.
Yet a glimpse of her immediate neighbour, Abidah,
strains her..
It's a humble Monday morning.
She rushes her boy for school.
Clasping his satchel
she drags him to the bus stop.
Her expression changes and a vague 
tension seizes her,
Abidah, accompanying her daughter has come.
They stand nearby.
The lad offers a chocolate to the young girl.
Radha nods with a deliberate smile
watching the kids.
Abidah senses the hostility.
She can't deny her own anguish.
 “Their festivals are too loud.
Their food lacks meaning.”
she wonder.
The kids have now left.
Radha will spend the day reading a Kahlil Gibran book.
Abidah will dress in her new 'bhagva' tainted kameez. 
But for now,
they silently head towards the same building
Although, following divergent paths.
​

​Unbind

Walk me to my grave and unbind me.
Unbind my body from the gaze of his lust.
Unbind my tongue from his speech.
Unbind my hands to write and not serve.
Unfurl my locks to flow,
and curl around his neck.
My locks are Medusa’s.
My locks are enraged.
Impetuous beings men can be,
Coddled from the womb.
Negate me womb,
To negate the man.
There are some storms that he brings.
Some storms die within me.
Unbind my storms to abolish his.
Negate me breaths to negate his.
Free me from myself
to be more of myself.
I am locked in a coffin today.
I might as well go to my grave.