Hit

Three daughters in Palayamkottai
One wife gifted with the ability
to make kaara kuzhambu
with fewer ingredients
each passing week.

He struggled to remember
their faces. The names
were easy enough. Malli,
Valli and the unexpected
Roja. But he cannot match
name to face.

For that a father
has to live at home.
Not labouring in a city
fourteen hours away
by the Nellai Express.

Better still he should
be alive. Not in this
expanding pool of
red
under my car.

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13 responses to “Hit

  1. Oh my god! it’s brilliantly morbid!!

  2. Sneha, aandthirtyeights: Thank you! But the title gives it away, no? Am thinking of renaming it. How does Rajamanikkam sound?

  3. So dark. Actually I didn’t pay attention to the title, so by the time I got to the last bit, I was almost upset!

  4. No the title says nothing until you get to the last couple of lines.. It is innocuously ambiguous until then!

    And I agree with neha… I really was slightly shaken when i read that last bit!

  5. Neha, Sneha: Thank you. Shall leave the title alone then.

    It is strangely gratifying to know the poem was powerful enough to upset you. Hmm.

  6. She said she was almost upset. 😉

  7. aandthirtyeights: 😀 Okay, okay. I was most definitely upset. *sniff*

  8. The Imam has spoken. And I shall confess – I wanted to think they were upset. Will you absolve us of our sins now?

  9. (I’m a lawyer. Its just instinct!)

  10. beautiful yet chilling…

  11. buddy: Welcome to these parts! And thank you.

  12. Powerful poetry. Help! I can’t take this image off my mind.

    Think of the daughters. Long plaits, dark-eyes, sudden flashes of defiance. Much promise in all three of them.

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