She wakes. Rubs her eyes
And looks in the mirror.
Something about her, she doesn't
Feel is in place. Something about
This morning is just not right.
She leaves the aangan un-swept.
Chooses to let her hair undone.
Doesn't pluck the flowers for pooja.
Doesn't apply sindhoor on her forehead.
Things in the kitchen are not paid any
Attention. Seems food will not be
Prepared today.
If you see her in the eyes.
There's no agitation. No hate or anger.
No baggage of years of oppression.
Neither any excuse of victimization.
There's just blankness. A vast expanse
Of emptiness that wants to watch
The world burn, for the sins it has committed.
It dictates a command. Seeks from her
Her own redemption.
So she unwraps herself from
The bondage of her saree. Keeps aside
All the imposed precedents.
And runs in the streets naked.
The high temple of the village shakes.
The lake in the village breaks.
The earth cries fire. Even the sun feels
The chills of these tremors of shock.
Those who peeked from a distance
Got blinded. The bastards who mocked
The event were torched to ashes.
Suddenly her kid cries out of hunger
And the reality comes out of slumber.
Seems the simulation was over.
The kitchen was flung open.
The stove was lit again and the world
Order was saved. Only the gods
And the demons had a memory of what
Had happened.
They thanked the child in prostration.
He was declared as the incarnation of
Of Lord reclines on a giant snake,
For fixing the glitch in the matrix,
That's supposed favor men.