It is him; it is not him

    By Jahnavi Gogoi

    I don’t like red, the mushy insides of a watermelon,
    Palash, Modar, thread-work on a Gamusa like rivulets
    Flowing out of an open wound.
    For two decades the portico light illuminated the Ixora bush
    Each floret a study in scarlet.
    We don’t utter his name at home
    You can never reconcile son/ militant/freedom fighter/ killer
    Can you?

    I see him waiting under the Areca palm
    He asks to come home
    I carry his name in my heart like a concealed weapon.
    He is a corpse under a Hollong tree on red soil
    It is him; it is not him.
    You can never reconcile son/ militant/freedom fighter/ brother/ killer
    Can you?

    Palash, Modar: Flowering trees with red flowers.
    Gamusa: A white rectangular piece of cloth usually with red motifs. Used as a towel and to honour people during ceremonies. Also exchanged on Bihu as an expression of love.
    Areca palm: A common tree found in the northeastern part of India. The Areca nut is relished with betel leaf in many parts of the country.
    Hollong: The state tree of Assam. Genus: Dipterocarpus retusus.

    Jahnavi Gogoi is a poet who grew up amidst insurgency in Assam and lived to tell the tale. She is a writer of children’s fiction and a mother to an assertive seven-year-old daughter. Her debut book of poetry ‘Things I told myself’ can be found on Amazon. Jahnavi now resides in Canada in the picturesque town of Ajax.

    Subscribe to our newsletter To Recieve Updates

      The Latest
      • Can I change the deal I have with my periods?

        From shame to strength: redefining my relationship with periods

      • When Did Normal Become the Most Dangerous Word

        "Normal" subtly erases diversity, forcing conformity and quiet exclusion

      • What We Lose When We Love Unequally

        The Failing Math of Emotional Labour

      • The Matchbox by Usawa #10

        North-East Special by Matchbox x The Little Journal of North East India

      You May Also Like
      • Untitled Poems by Ayaz Rasool Nazki

        I pulled the desert over my eyes and sank deep into the sand blood

      • Three Poems By Vinita Agrawal

        A beautiful achievement Her poems speak up for humanity, turning a compassionate

      • Annie Ernaux, the Peacemaker By Arun Paria

        The days I think that I have lived long enough are also the days when I remember

      • In Lieu of a Manifesto by Ranjit Hoskote

        We have known, at least since the late 1960s, of the hazardous effects