A young artist friend of mine, was recently travelling in an auto rickshaw in Delhi , some goons came to beat up the auto driver, my friend intervened and he too was beaten up. His face swelled up and he got many bruises. He is someone who feels that his body anyways does not define him, as he feels like a woman. So he watches his body as if it does not belong to him. This poem is inspired by him.

I watch

my hair grow long,

hope it hides my growing bald patch

I watch

that knife scar

from the night attack

underline my face

I watch

the texture on the

water melon

I watch

the woman inside me

desire the soft confusion

longing  to drown the anger

smell the sweat of the street

of that young man in heat

I watch

my body, your body

not her, not he

I watch

my flesh melting

pouring it into the world

quenching the thirst

of seduction.

of love beyond seduction

I watch

my night eat up my day

I watch

my hand

spreading colour

from dream to light

give birth

I watch

my silences

my hatreds

rebirths,redeaths

I just keep watching

Don’t you?