Feminist Studies

Prathibha Nandakumar Jogathi I walked out, leaving behind the broken bangles empty bindi and kohl box comb with fallen teeth Pleats hindering brisk steps peacock in the pallu cackling fragrant jasmine in the hair teardrop trembling on the edge of an eyelash running down the smooth cheek the cracking sound of leather footwear here goes the fluttering bird of the cage On the old familiar well flipped aside the tight hugging embroidered blouse a tear in the drape, caught in the shoulder ornament the checkered scarf with the intoxicating sweat-scent of the wet body Feminist Studies37, no. 1 (Spring 2011). Originally published in InteriorDecoration: Poemsby54 Womenfrom10 Languages,ed. Ammu Joseph, Vasanth Kannabiran, Ritu Menon, and Volga (New Delhi: Women Unlimited, 2010), 279-80. Reprinted by permission. 6l 62 PrathibhaNandakumar The dice-playing mother under a pearl-lined umbrella called out to come, drink a glass of cool milk. After choking on it I stepped out, leaving behind the lullaby, the cradle the silver feeding spoon Unmindful of what I was leaving behind search for something else. Roaming nomadic covering the distances going in and out through the moonlight and scorching sun. Finally standing atop the steep cliff answering the last final call Jogathi, wearing the solitary flower and a lone stud, consumed by the poison dances the death dance and from her neck there tumbles the rudraksh. Translated by the poet ...