The physiotherapist stretches my limbs and
the jammed sole solemnly sulking.
The stethoscope on his table reads
an uneven heartbeat –
blood pressure
50 – 70
downsizing the mind.
“It is the anxieties of the anxious times
keeping you awake.”
Chaos within and chaos around
can be put on the dying
coal embers that the child collects
warmth out of long gone dead.
Yesterday a woman cut her wrist
and today her body stinks.
Muezzin calls for
namaz-e-janaza…
The body wants to be submerged into the soil,
the neighbours gather to pray
for the one who took her own life.
The lady attendant halts and
her voice shakes,
when she recollects of the time –
her sister burned herself
to the roots and no one heard her calls.
She repeats the incident twice to us
as if the second time it would
sink in more and become flesh again.
To give life and death is His right alone
Will she burn in the grave too now?
I wonder as I see a pair
of crows building their nest in my
garden every time someone dies around me.
How long to keep awake?
How long to keep walking
inside the circle of anxieties?
Muezzin: A man who calls Muslims to prayer from the minaret of a mosque.
Namaz-e-janaza the Islamic funeral service
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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