When I was 16,
I wanted to rebel against the government.
O! How to tell you!
But that was a time of blood and gore.
I have watched men run on fire.
By fire, I don’t mean the one that catches your heart,
but the real fire.
He was burned for 15 days and the 16th, dead.
When we rebelled against the government
there was none who told us
how to do it right.
You know the light, and the dust- I am so used to it.
In between those rallies and running
I would tell my love
‘There should be no government sweetheart’
At night he would whisper
‘You are right honey, there should be none between us’
Oh, and we gave up to the carpet made of bamboo and coconut fibre
that had a hole, on the half-made floor,
in each other’s arms under the kerosene lamp.
The dry dust of unpolished concrete would
fly across our eyes, and our nose.
At first, he used to sneeze a lot,
but we made love always
like animals, biting and nibbling each other,
falling asleep to crickets humming to the night.
What days! What days they were
so full of gore and blood
but we still managed to make some love-
and we never agreed to the government.
I remember the attic in our old house
had some rats, and a cat once fell from the roof
over us, it cuddled like an old slogan between us.
Now?
God knows how life moves!
But now- I would take a little rest till I finish the dishes,
till we laugh out loud reclining on the arm chair or clapping to
a bird at the window.
