At first it was about bending geometry.
Folding a square into a triangle and turning
that into a circle wrapping your head.
You could have been a Russian or Ukrainian
peasant woman working hard in a field.
In reality, you were only a school girl
braving a north Indian winter.
The head, a biological sphere spawning
ever new worlds. The head, also the seat
of intelligence and silken hair, treasures
to protect. Women in worship, ladies
in church, school girls in Kabul and Delhi,
desert belles in Kutch, we all wear it.
Every Sunday, my Nigerian neighbour's head
is the prettiest in the entire neighbourhood.
Geles of Nile blue and Grand Canyon vermilion,
Amazon green and canary yellow burst upon
her head like bird nests and ocean beds.
Love is what wraps you, I was told.
But I say love is also that which you can wrap.
A scarf. A wimple. A hennin. A hijab. A dupatta.
I wanted to write a poem about the humble dupatta (a piece of cloth) that does so many things. Glad to see you've done it, Bhaswati. It has been a pleasure reading your poems this month. More power to you.
ReplyDeletei love the music of this:
ReplyDeleteGeles of Nile blue and Grand Canyon vermilion,
Amazon green and canary yellow burst upon
her head like bird nests and ocean beds.