Bruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 29. Banjara Whenever I see Banjara hills Sturdy, stunning I’m reminded of Banjara baby Monie Who hasn’t a spoon of muscle On her bones She may not contain A pint of blood in her body Her honeyed talk is enough To infuse energy Into the body Of her […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 28. The Pyre of Khairlanji Oh, Babasaheb Ambedkar, To whom but you Can I relate this sad episode? This minimal nation turned into A male organ Frightens me! Look at this incestuous Generation of vipers! Was there ever a brother On the face of the globe So heinous […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 27. Mother Earth I declare this land is mine And cattiest serpents hiss furiously I till my land And it crawls around me, This Anaconda of caste and Crushes my frame. If we beseech them And not the waters Village-lakes would overflow with Our blood. Have you ever […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 26. Song of the Hunter It makes me twist inside Twist hard This fateful statue! Seeing it I don’t get a wink of a sleep. I feel like one Whose crown has been snatched And dashed to the ground. That pointing finger Aims at our loins Hidden behind […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 25. Corn Picker I only know how to lose But never to gain again My womanhood an affliction. I gather troubles at every step As each heaves himself up To his palanquin By stepping over my head. I am Soopanakha Who ensured Rama stayed monogamous The queen Prameela […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 24. Mother Curry You’re the consumers of Ghee-mixed food, my lords. Till now, none has taught us, Sirs, That food has caste And gruel, religion. I swear on my mother In our abject poverty It was this curry, Sirs, That saved our race From hunger pangs And filled […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 23. Love at Chennai Though my visits to Madras Maybe just once in a blue moon To run some errand― yet An unknown blood bond Makes the town always my own, Walks me through, holding my hand! Madras metropolis Is a splendid pot of hot food Catering to […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 22. The Sacrifice A perennial sacrifice On the sacrifice pillar Who made This being stand thus? Frightened Just like me. Breathless The heart stifled I am startled By the bullet on my plate When I sit down to eat. Once again The Bhagavat Gita1chases me With a lathi […]
Continue ReadingBruised, but not Broken (poems) -Challapalli Swarooparani 21. Bruised Childhood Whenever I read of a pleasing pretty childhood Complete with teeny-weeny fluffy frocks Chubby cheeks My childhood ― A book of tables bereft of pages and Pressed down in an old trunk box ― Stretches out its leafy hands to be turned into poetry. If […]
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