Pankhuri Sinha (India)

 
Pankhuri Sinha (India)
 
Bilingual young poet and story writer from India. Two books of poems published in English, two collections of stories published in Hindi, and five collections of poetries published in Hindi, and many more are lined up. Has been published in many journals, anthologies, home and abroad. Has won many prestigious, national-international awards, has been translated in over twenty one languages. Her writing is dominated by themes of exile, immigration, gender equality and environmental concerns. After doing her BA from Delhi University, and PG diploma in Journalism, from Symbiosis Pune, Pankhuri did her Master’s in history from SUNY Buffalo, and has an unfinished Phd from the University of Calgary, Canada. She has worked in various positions as a journalist, lecturer and a content editor.
 
 
Talking with everything at stake
 
Talking with everything at stake
Like the last chance of making a baby
Completely visible
In matrimonial negotiations
Is a very strange position
Specially
If you have been trapped into it
Like the last year was so full of telling people
You cannot talk
Just cannot bear
The ringing of the phone
Alarms go off in your head
Strange buzzers
Implant like things
Tracking devices
Such was the zeal with which the phone rang
Such was the precision
With which the phone rang
Telling you of a strange surveillance system
That even with that last year of baby making
Going by
You simply could not talk
Although there were other platforms
Where talking meant
Talking with all at stake
And much being held
Many, many strings holding your voice
Outside the room
Or was it just released
Prior to the walk in?
 
 
 
Cat touches
 
And around he comes
Making friends again
Extending an arm of friendship
No paws extended
No claws
Not even his voice
Its just that look of silence
And what a look it is
Says so much more than
Please
Won’t you please
Try, its very satisfying
And she knows
Its not just the licking of the fingers
The man beast encounter
Its so much more
But right now
The look
Deepening every minute
When she just cannot
Cannot afford
Is making her want to breastfeed
And she cannot tell the cat
How much she loves
And the cat goes to his owner
Opens his mouth
And meows and meows
Like children complain
Like children act
And I just sit there
Wanting to feed and breastfeed.
 
 
 
The unclear things
 
Still leaving with things unclear
Half said
Not said enough
Just rounded off
Or may be
Not even that
Sill leaving with that feeling
Of looking for that free voice
Deliberately not given
And stammering right there
At the pronunciation of given
At the simple pronunciation of it…….
Things said in an accent
Not your own
Not even borrowed
Completely unknown
Weaving in
All things
Happening around you
Weird things
And perhaps
This is where
The argument is
As to how weird are they?
As if people
Pushing really hard
To keep a form of discrimination alive
And accepted as normal.
It’s a hard argument to win
In the extremely sophisticated corridors
Of higher studies.
 
 

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