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Language of a small town woman — Poems by Bharti Bansal


Bharti Bansal

What even?


you say nobody thinks about anybody else but themselves

i don't agree like i have learnt to i tell you about otters who

never leave their beloved's hands while asleep or mothers

who hold their children with such aching intensity sometimes

they call themselves noose sometimes the anchor there is

no sheer selflessness in this world but my father still walks the dog before everyone wakes up prepares the breakfast and

asks us to eat sometimes like a request mostly like a plain

old statement a weightless act of faith you say people are

never thinking twice about your mistakes neither your memories

but i still think about the girl who wanted to write a book before

she wanted to kill herself or the lady in my hostel who asked me

if i had breakfast after not eating for three days or that distant brother who gave away my clothes without my knowing because nothing fit me anymore because weight of medicines has accumulated in my bones what doesn't tell you that everything matters even that cousin who compared me to a dead body even that friend who leaves breadcrumbs of love at my door before disappearing like a cat with its kill before wandering away in streets even that relative who forgot my name because i wasn't what success looked like you see nothing is coincidence

not the look on your lover's face not the sunflowers that brought you good belief in yourself not the made up god that listened finally not the bee that once stung your foot only a knife healed it

don't you feel this world is not stabilized by its axis but its tilt towards sun that whatever you feel is noticed even the light falling slantly on your shoulders



Language of a small-town woman


what language does to a woman from small town

is same as what language does to elitist women

they say something and I believe it

big-town women, language-under-their-tongue women

you will see me through the lens of rich women

pretending to be allies, but rolling their r's in savarna women

not all women though, but women, of all castes

all kinds who know something about English that I don't

capitalized word for "your grammar is wrong" women

i own a job, you must be small women

big parties, growing doctors, raging scientists,

i just can't walk with you women

you are so minuscule, i don't even see you women

you fall ill, but die before you blame us women

so when you laughed at me for my bad face, worse english

for my ugly depression, acne cheeks, grey hoodie

and ill-fitting pants, falling, oiled hair,

you point at them women, tell me they are looking at me

for how you dressed women

selena gomze and not selena gomez

you from good schools, and i, just a villager

learning to say selena as saleena, you smirk

ask me to order tacos, i fumble you laugh again women

i, a sad woman, you pretty in your sadness women

i don't point at your ugly, but you do women

language fermenting on your lips women

standing tall, shoulder to shoulder with people from your class

unlike us women

crouched back, heads bowed down

gravity works wonders on our bodies

tell me, tell me, your trash secrets, your sullen letters

let me mock it, you petty woman

I fight for women but only some women

not you though, you don't match the aesthetics of my clothes women

so what if we are the same blood of fighter women

so what if our women years back learnt the traces of letters on a wooden cardboard

so what if witches were burnt because they had a mole, women

so what if you believe us women, us villager women, are so soft

even a finger on us can turn into compass for weak women

you wear good clothes, we just clothes, women

evolution, you say

branching into women of all kinds

but ours is at a distance away,

you don't introduce us, your fathers don't take our names

but "ye ladki"

women, you shout at us, because you own a status

the i don’t care women, mistaking rudeness for this is who i am women

language in your face women, such growth, such sad growth

whatever you surpass, is just litter women

“and i cried...for all of the women

who stretched their bodies for civilizations

only to find ruins”

of women who couldn't speak much.



My father doesn't watch Taarak Mehta ka Ulta Chashma anymore


Home is a man is the entire house

my father's gurgling laughter,

i see god in it

rare, sacred, we all worship it

mother, the most

but daughters on mother's footsteps

learn to witness his laughter as a memorial to good times

father doesn't watch taarak mehta ka ulta chashma

anymore

the entire walls of house are silent

is my mother's hope at the face of our life

is how it mends and bends and tricks us into

praying god

father

doesn't laugh much, his eyes

sullen like first winter snow

someone must have felt the warmth before his eyes,

he now scrolls through old YouTube shorts

and videos that make no sense sometimes

he bursts into laughter, the old crumbling kind

before it excuses itself midway

and lingers inside the throat until it dissipates

into empty air, leaving trails of memory of laughter

his voice now so slow, he mumbles and witnesses himself

through the mirror of his voice, hungry

are lives almost at the peak of a sad sad house

watch how it has emerged into a temple

nobody sits here, but the lonely god

empty alley, a tree covered with fairy lights and moon

hung just low enough for it to catch the sight of

our house is a man

who has known life so closely

that he ended up becoming it,

father, my beautiful beautiful father doesn't watch

taarak mehta ka ulta chashmah anymore

we all know what lack of smile does to a person

we all know fathers who turn into children

who turn into their fathers

nobody returns home

our voices match the pitch of an old park's swings

some of us speak

and wind rustles around our bodies

all this rusty time, after all these years

all we have known is bluntness of time

sliding off our backs, slowly like

a tv show left on, our home, this double storied,

cracked walls, blue around, giggling at storms

knows a laughing god

is my father sometimes.


Credit: "I cried for all the women...' is adapted from Sonia Sanchez's 'I cried for all the women....only to find ruins.'"

 

About the Poet:


Bharti lives in Himachal Pradesh. Her striking poems speak of home and heart, while she herself stays quietly behind her words. Find her understated presence at @useless_thought25 on Instagram

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