Nanima at the village well and 2 other poems
Nanimas quiet strength, an anchor of Memory, defies castes generational violence, asserting…
Read more →Salt-pan lives etched in white. Thirst for water, a constant ache, defines their stark being
I.
Expanse of white salt called the rann
Field of fire called afternoon
No water to drink
No school for their children
No home but the salt pans
Caught between the sea and the desert
The agariya harvest salt
For the tongues that do not know
The meaning of water
II.
Driving on Surajbari bridge
past salt pans that line the road on both sides
we make an offering of coins to the sea,
(too many, mother would say later,
the sea has carried her children away)
wishing for travel and plenty.
The bright pink of the agariya woman’s dress
The only colour in the white expanse of salt
of her longing for water
makes contrast for my phone camera
The camera does not see
Mirages that dream become her dreams
Thirst spreading its fingers on her throat