2 poems by Sanchari Sur

Badaun Sisters

27 May, 2014, Katra Village, Badaun District, Uttar Pradesh, India

 

Strange fruits found on

dusty back roads in

forgotten Indian villages.

 

 

We, Dalit:        Untouchable

by day

violated           by right.

 

 

But boys will be boys

(read: upper caste Hindu men will

be, will always

be).

 

We will be:

Picked

Pickled

Jarred

 

 

Can the subaltern speak?

and answers itself:

 

No.

 

But a picture

can,      One Thousand Words of

 

journalise fodder,

social media revolutionaries’

armour

 

shared              liked                retweeted

photo after photo after photo

 

two pairs of feet                                swaying

………………………..mid           air.

 .

.

.

Origa-me

 

Origami me,

a prehistoric promise

made under the cover of

decayed conventions.

 

Impale me

into the folds of ritual,

sacred ablutions

meant to refashion

my seeping contours.

 

Mould me

into tedious earthenware,

my edges, dulled to suit

your trite sensibilities.

 

But be certain to keep

my lines     lucid

my ambiguities    erased

 

and my cravings

 

contained.

 

 

 

Sanchari Sur is a feminist/ anti-racist/ sex-positive/gender queer Canadian who was born in Calcutta, India. Her work has been published in Map Literary, Barely South Review, LIES/ISLE, CURA, Women in Clothes (Penguin 2014) and elsewhere. A PhD candidate in English at Wilfrid Laurier University, she blogs at http://sursanchari.wordpress.com.