Between a wrinkled cotton sheet and a lumpy coir mattress, I hide my unsaid
prayers, unfinished, unedited, not directed at anyone in particular, just angst
and offers of trade, a bribe or two, the distilled bitterness of failure, my
winding diatribes and discourses smudged by a river of incomprehensible
tears. I remember grandpa teaching me to write a letter to my teacher, a
recipient, a subject, a literary prostration, all for a day off from school. Which
benevolent creator would look at these jumbled supplications, smelling of left
over school lunches, later reeking of the stale emptiness of beer and smoke, of
the same song on a loop, of time that had passed as god after illusory god had
ignored the unaddressed tirades, not even returned them with loud red circles
and remarks that read, should be more polite, more contrite, or a slightly distended
oval that said complimentary close necessary before neat signature. I cried myself
to sleep on my neighbour’s sofa while my family went ahead. My leave
request wasn’t approved. It didn’t seem, the school said, that it was important.
Poem By: Rajani Radhakrsihnan
Rajani Radhakrishnan is a poet from Bangalore, India.