by Reena Prasad
Kintsukuroi they call it
The art of mending with gold
It works on people too-
too fragile to be recycled
and too human to be sewed
An aranjanam and a radiant nettichutti
to offset the paleness that unslept nights
had bestowed
Bangles to hush up the name
she whispered sometimes
to the breeze
Zari edges of her sari to cover up the
unsteady trip of her feet
The gilt to light up her husband’s house
to thaw the strangeness
and make her feel at ease
She entered, right foot first
and was swallowed by obscurity
Her golden padasarams kept beat
to the fading music of her subdued ankles
though an image of a broken silver one
on a bare chest
caused cracks in the mirror
when she looked
Author's note:
aranjanam = waist chain
nettichutti = a head jewel
padasaram = anklets
Friday, May 2, 2014
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