BEFORE LOVE COMMITS HARAKIRI (Part VII) - Edited
In a winter evening of 'Ode to Joy' and 'Yaman'
You engrave on my skin the words of a love-letter
Dropped in one of the postboxes of your heart
With a shining stiletto, you inscribe the name of the greatest Hindu mythological God upon my chest
Blood flows down
You use it as a Sindoor and say, "Now, I'm married."
You look through my eyes
I ask, "Who taught you this trite effort to 'Sati'ness ?"
All of a sudden you begin to howl
The shape of your jaws change
You bite me here and there
You've got the taste of blood
The word 'metamorphosis' comes to my mind
Your breasts, stomach, abdomen, hands and legs - all become hairy
Your silky burgundy hair becomes dense, black and curly
Your fingernails grow longer and sharper
Like razor blades they scratch on my skin...
You lift your face and keep on uttering the same mythical name
You have turned into a werewolf
... There's no reader of mine to save me now
"You are wrong", I say
" The information is wrong."
You tell, "Go and ask that Chayewala, he also knows" and continue to keep on mumbling Vatsayana
And embrace me with androgenic strength..
And, when everything is over, I see you changing to an Angel
And, you watch me turning to a Beast
Then, with disgust and hatred, you spit on me and untie the ropes
I have no complaint against you
I deserve this
With my fingernail, I sign my name on your tender thighs
You are my masterpiece
You kick me out in the snow with Beethoven's 9th Symphony and Ustad Amir Khan's 'Yaman' playing in my head
I step out into that very weather of Shakespeare's play
And with 'King Lear' in front of me
I cry out, "Ma Rain, Ma Storm, Ma Nature !
Wash away, wash away, wash away
(To be Continued)
© Somabho Raychaudhuri