À l’heure du tout à l’image et du buzz sans suite, «l’express» souhaite faire découvrir la plume de poètes, de chanteurs, d’écrivains et de tous ceux qui jettent leur âme sur le papier, et qui mettent en mots des réflexions profondes.

It was a sultry afternoon. I had been playing outside, getting into all kinds of adventures—as always, my clothes were covered in dirt. Mud smeared my knees, and the once-white shirt I wore was now a mottled canvas of brown and green from the grass stains.

Skidded to a stop, I looked towards the kitchen door. Maa was standing by the stove, rolling out perfect and round rotis. The smell was heavenly perfect. I reached out eagerly; Maa was flipping the paratha with her bare hands. Standing firm in front of me with her Cadillac eyes, I asked, ‘Doesn’t that burn your hands, mom?’ Sheepishly, she added while covering her neck with a dupatta from the wound Papa gave: ‘The more you burn, the quicker you become the fire yourself.’

This got me pondering how many burns and wounds she covered with her broad grin.

When did she realise that pain became a part of her elements? Or is that something one decides one day? Likewise, mama, I question whether one day I shall keep my poise with those burns or I’ll always rely on the spatula. Was I not too small to understand the heat of pans? Shall I forgive Papa for the fanning fear he inflicted within my ribs?

Forehead kisses and gifting me toys will not erase the monster he is. Mama makes my humanity feel less heavy. Violence one step removed is still violence.

Bio

Modhyni Aayushi Doorgasing

At 21 years old, she is the official author of book “Enigma in disguise”, published under the aegis of the Ministry of Art and Culture.