The Stage feminine
-Vinod Vaisakhi
tr by gita janaki
Light embellished body art,
Dimples that hides away merriment
in vortices like ant lions.
Gleaming body of fine craftsmanship.
The creeper all abloom in joyous symphony.
Oh!
“Though art a nymph, my Desdemona.”
Umpteen measures of beauty
as alluded to by Sambasivan in his story telling.
“Put out the light, then put out the light”
Love intense played peekaboo.
On stage,
Like a gleaming bird of lightning
stands Subhadra.
Sharp beak.
Severed in treachery.
The one who cast away her eyes
Into the infernal city.
Lalithambika,
The one who spewed
Shrapnels of words.
With fire as witness, (Agnisakshi)
Cobwebs, parasols hiding feminity.(marakkuda)
Nasty past,
Shattered mirrors of traditions,
Shoddy prisons.
The struggle of language.
Thathrikkutty, who severed the
Holy knot of hair,
inhaling the vicious smoke from pen.
Thatri,
much shrewd a woman.
“Music, is a rebellion of sound)
The girls who, along with Noorjahan
passed into oblivion, recites ragi..
Mujra singers,
huddles into their hands
The street soul, devoid of noises.
“Death Oh! Death
How strugglest thee
in time of your death?
The boughs, reigning chieftains,
Decree suicide notes to females.
In the womb,
my strong child
you should take shape.
The street has become
A huge tea cup.
A tattered banana skin
cries hunger ,
in trash bins,
coloured red, green, blue.
The Holy Cow ,
a razor sharp knife,
Serves dinner to death, in the street.
A storm rises from the tea cup.
