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Here is an ode to lost romance, in the time of busy kitchens, offices, and homes. The title is borrowed from Eliot’s poem The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock.
The Love Song of J. Sadhana Prakash
Chapatis, onions, potatoes and salt
Know no halt.
In her tired musings
Sad Sadhana sought her spouse
In that never-never land,
In high green grass
Trailing billowing silks,
Leads and follows
In the led life
An arena had become the house,
Not a moment to relax,
That reminds her
She has to prepare the details of income tax
Office, chapaties , onions, potatoes and salt know no halt.
It’s six o’ clock.
Tiffins to pack,
Kids to send to school,
House to lock,
The maid hasn’t come.
In the bus she hopes for a seat
To rest her already tired feet.
It’s six o’clock.
Dinner to cook,
Homework to supervise,
The furniture to be dusted,
The sweet-nothings had become rusted
Long out of use.
She tried her best
But civil wars always bust the bubble
Leaving behind the forlorn rubble.
Gradually turned the bed cold.
The constant worry –
I hope I haven’t forgotten the pill –
I’ll have to face the abortionist’s scalpel,
Turn the weakly dose
All the more chilled
Once, the plan for ‘our two’ was fulfilled.
What a hassle it was
Getting leave and a bed in hospital
The round of ‘ayahs’ and crèches
Had become nightmarish.
Office, chapaties, onions, potatoes and salt, know no halt
With the changed social role
Sadhana resents she was born a female
And he a male.
The children to bear
The house to run,
Money to earn
Force her to ask the overwhelming question –
Is it worth it – this all?
Will there ever be a time
When she will bid goodbye
To her dreams, indecisions?
Putting on a brave face,
But who won’t, can’t forgo a chance
To throw a lance
(Perhaps, a resultant of her tensions?)
And the emotion
To which the spring, the air, the very season contributes,
They have almost forgotten the first flush.
Hurled accusations, a sense of being cheated remain.
In the never-never land
Trailing billowing silks
Pic credit: Picturepurrfect (Used under a CC license)
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