gaam

Gaam

The cot had used condoms below it

Hiding in them romance, infidelity & rape; 

The cards from the game spread out on the table; 

The scent of hookah from the forenoon stayed on them

Cards and hookah; the two assets of faux pride they do not share

The draught from the monsoon an unspoken melancholy etched on their faces. 

Swear words, repressed urges, invisible pockets of society.

Community; impunity;

The farms that feed us carry stories that go unheard;

Women: a herd.

Caste: the harshest truth in their lies of a happy heaven

Pride: masquerading as a false belief system that stays like the soot in the cities.

The laughter of the kids playing on the street innocuously;

without a grasp of gender, caste or pride carries hope.