The Chipped Pot Speaks
(An origin story)
I come from a place where the rivers meet in the mouth
of a marshy delta before surrendering to the sea.
I come from the salt sprinkled on fish in the markets
by the Hooghly, salt from the dewy skin of womenfolk
dancing garba around the Goddess on a moonlit night,
salt from the briny waters of the Persian Gulf in the Island
of pearls. I come from the brilliance of the Anuradha star
in the autumnal sky, Scorpio rising, ruled by the karmic Saturn,
dulled by the Icarian fall from grace. I come from the forgiveness
of a land tilled after the harvest, a land where girls are named after
mute stone goddesses in temples, and worshipped only if they’re
fair and lovely. I come from the dark, hyperpigmented skin of my
chafing dimpled thighs, from my legs crossed in shame, cloaked by
propriety, from the weight of my family’s honor which I carry with
a “good girl” image. I come from a place where lore & legend
lord over biology, because why else would a woman be blamed for
not birthing a son & heir, why would she be forced to bury her
stillborn baby in the earth in a torrent of tears, why would she have to
return Sita to her true mother? I come from that deep dark secret cavern
of anguish, from a mother’s hope that her newborn wields the power
to cut through the hostile maze of barbed wire, that her gurgles &
droopy eyelids could blanket the strife in a cloud of ceasefire.
I come as an unsullied ingenue, soon to be broken & fixed, time & again –
armed with a love for language, which angers the power-hungry numbers.
I come to learn that love can be forced, that math teaches lessons too,
like how the width of my smile is proportional to the thickness of my skin.
I come bearing instructions in the garb of gifts – how to drown out
the noise, how to be in denial, how to embrace mediocrity, how to hide
& grow invisible, how to pretend to be happy, how not to be different –
while being different. I come from a well where crabs claw at each other
so nobody can escape unless palms are greased & gods are appeased.
I come from a blind herd of sheep chasing greener pastures, an empty
hollow rolling stone that looks good on paper. Now I take a pause.
To line my fingernails with clay from the moist earth, in search of
the contradictions that have shaped me at the potter’s wheel.
To embody the dual nature of wave & particle, Bindi & jeans,
east & west, flaw & strength, coconut oil & cocktail soirees,
Sanskrit prayers & rock music. To silently rebel, to accept the greys
in hair & season, to restore & repair instead of change & replace,
to inhale petrichor & return to earth, when monsoons cry & jasmines fall.
***
Hooghly – A river flowing through Kolkata, the city I was born in.
Garba – A traditional folk dance of Gujarat, the state I was raised in for many years.
Anuradha – A star in the Scorpius constellation, after which I was named per my astrological chart.
Fair & Lovely – A fairness cream that promises to make dark skin fairer with daily use.
Sita – A mythological princess who was found as a baby in a farmer’s field.
Bindi – The dot worn on a Hindu woman’s forehead.