speaking of trade

gold
traded for virginity
two cots to hold all the lust for procreation
an almirah to lock up bruises of the mind
pots and ladles on
which all hope was first stirred
and later strained
until all that remained was the memory
of a better time.
bundles of notes to feed greed
a car to announce to the world
what a benevolent family i come from
that’s all it took
for me to wed

when all i wanted was love instead

and now i seek the eternal knot
that hangs down from the ceiling fan
ah! yes, the ceiling fan once carried my tears
outside the window - the gift my father traded
for a pint of his blood

come now,
don’t fear that i will be dead
death came upon me earlier this year
with those three knots in yellow.
remember?




k's grandmom narrated the incident of her house help's daughter's wedding. all that they gave. and...what happens? a few days later, the same thought was echoed by aamir khan in satyamev jayate.