PRESERVED LIQUID SCAR

There was a scene where Madhu had to climb on to the top of a car with the frills of her long skirt fanning out, and a herd of sheep passing the car. Sheep herd, with their white fluffy bodies, plaintive bleating, and a collective movement, somewhat directionless only aimed at getting out of her way, made her feel lost. Now she needed someone to live in her mind, the corridors of her mind echoed the silence of his absence. The poems linked him to her.

In temples of  ‘Ram” lonely , hurt women, suffering infidelities of their spouses often made garlands of small papers each paper contained “ Sri Rama jayam” written 108 times. Earlier, when Madhu visited the temples, she would think of those lonely hands writing the fixed number of prayers, that furious resolve to be faithful to an unfaithful man, glorified as virtue, chastity. In Indian mythologies,chastity of a woman was tested by Gods.  In these temples an occasional Anna Karenina*, crying before Lord Hanuman, to whisk her away. Some madame Bovaries*, in the Maramma temple, feeling energised to destroy the demons of their lives.

Between the romantic scenes shot in the early morning sun rays, Madhu wrote her poems in small scraps of paper. She was happy to be awake in those hours, awake or asleep dreams haunted that hour.She usually heard the chirping of birds, in her half awake state, from her bed “Gosh, it is morning and I still did not sleep”.  So when her wakefulness was legitimate, it was peace. She watched the birds leave their nests, chirping was like loud good byes. Birds slept with one eye open, when threatened or on the edge of a herd, she had read somewhere. When they closed both eyes, they dreamt like humans, what did they dream about? After all they were free to fly, may be they dreamt of the distant skies over  kinder earth.  She imagined Anand’s smug, self righteous anger, if he were to read her poems, she wanted to discard the woolen , let the cold bite in to her flesh, she wished she were in a colder place, than this. Some mountains filled with icebergs, she wanted to freeze the loneliness, take it out of her, and preserve it in formalin bottles, safe reminder of pain, like a liquid scar.

 

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