I wake up
one Onam morning
with my loving but
non-Mallu husband.

We make love,
not out of love
like on other days,
but to extend our lineage,
not out of desire,
but to protect ourselves
from the ostracisation,
not from people unknown,
but our own loved ones.

A few phone calls pour in
asking . . .
how am I celebrating
the festival.

I say, ‘Nothing special . . .’

For this,
I get some preaching
about how should I celebrate the day . . .
and my womanhood,
slogging the whole day
in the kitchen
and worshipping the Lord,
for whom I am just a woman,
an untouchable.

Post this,
I fail at trying to
decipher a few poems
by a respected Indian poet,
from his book
lying unopened for days
beside my bed.

I open my Insta,
just to learn that
he too has followed me back.

‘Now what?’ I think.
How do I tell him
that
I didn’t understand
his poems
just like this
life?

---

Akhila Mohan CG is a poet & writer who likes writing peoms and short stories. Her works have been published in literary platforms including Scarlet Dragonfly, Whiptail Journal, Failed Haiku, & others.