Epithet: Self-Portrait as Uttara
Men and their wars.
A missile over my womb.
No woman wants
the tragedy
of pushing out a baby
already dead.
Look at that word—
stillborn. Still born.
I hold what remains
against my chest.
Here, my son morphs
into the corpse
of my dead husband.
I think of what to name him.
Witch Hunt
All that remains of my sisters
who refused is blood
and bone, thrown at my pyre.
They said apologize. Apologize
for claiming this land. For holding
a book in your rotten hands.
Fall at your brother’s feet. Cover
your ugly face with a cotton veil.
How dare you say you have a name.
I throw my head back
to face the sky—even God
looks away from girls like us.
It starts with a slow smoke.
They watch my feet unturn,
curl into itself before it bursts.
As splintered wood digs
into my wrists tied behind,
all my rebellion is this:
bending my body into a comma,
biting the flame before it can.
For a brief moment, I am holy.
Self-Portrait as Poonkuzhali
This world
has many names
for a woman who
isn’t a wife.
My lovers arise
from marshlands,
frothing into bubbles
over my mouth.
At night, I capture
Chozhapuram’s squalls
and bottle them
into conchshell caskets.
They want to name me
princess of the sea.
Look at my boat,
her bruised oars.
How every hurricane
knows to bow at my feet.
Now, say the word
call me King.
Author’s notes:
“Self-Portrait as Uttara”—Uttara is a princess who appears in the Indian epic, Mahabharata. Ashwathaama, one of the greatest warriors of the enemy, entered the Pandava camp at night and slaughtered their men and soldiers. He also shot a cosmic missile at Uttara’s womb to discontinue the Pandava lineage. This was said to be averted by Lord Krishna who also punished Ashwathaama because of the immorality and cowardice in trying to maim a fetus instead of fighting the men at war.
“Witch Hunt”—The poem references the practice observed in several parts of rural India. When a woman asks for her share of the property, the men deem her a witch for even thinking she was allowed to ask for property. She is then ostracized and isolated by the rest of the village. Sometimes, brutally murdered too.
“Self-Portrait as Poonkuzhali“—Poonkuzhali is a character from Kalki’s novel Ponniyin Selvan. She was a brave woman, without whom the main characters would not have survived. Poonkuzhali was nicknamed Samudhra Kumari, which stands for “The Princess of the Sea,” because she would single-handedly maneuver boats even during terrible storms. She inspired fear.
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