Mother Sati

(self translation)

Fetch me the palms of a Gabbar Singh I must cover my lips against your kisses Your mischief may get burnt and scatter like ashes

with the rupture of my volcanic pyre

I feel the lava creeping under my skin Do not embrace me my child I do not want the bomb ticking in me To make you its suicide victim.

I am fatigued You must protect yourself from me If only you were capable of swimming away to the safe shores I would have lovingly blessed you goodbye Go, the most precious beat of my heart Become a leaf, follow that thunder whinnying in the horizon Become a drop, join the roaring sea out there.

Alas! I hear no thunder The sun rises and sets Clouds flash, rains fall Flat like a c-grade movie Herbs bloom, wither, fall and rot I serve myself the sampuru of dishes Sleeping beauties all around me What barren equanimity, bourgeois stoicism

The cringe in me is a déjà vu I am rotting and falling off your tiny back Strand by strand, lump by lump Bishalakshi are my scents, Mahalakshmi sights The soul and mind, Sakambari-Sankari My motherhood, the Kamakhya

Your tears have dried out from crying, my child Come, rest. This is what you need at this hour.

Let your name be written in some godly registers Pray that the Great Thunder makes you its flute this time I want a rupture in you A molting An awakening My darling little caterpillar May wings grow on your back

Wage a war on the enemy within, my child Go on a killing spree of the Great Kali Nothing less than a catastrophic momentum

Let your anxieties run amok so your height touches new skies Embrace the anxiety within And dare yourself to plunge into the depths of unknown

Life is Thunder, my child Come, take a taste of rupture!