So, let’s cut the crap,
say the words, do the job,
graduate, get married.
We’ll move to that obscure part of Delhi
where your brother lives.
I’ll call him my brother too.
I’ll lay down my weapons,
shove them under our bed.
Give up all that fight. I’ll cut
mangoes for you.
Let the juice spill over my fingers
and not write a poem about it.
I’ll sweep the floor,
draw the blinds. I’ll make sure the light
doesn’t get in your eyes.
I won’t wait. I won’t
ask anything of you. I won’t
even make that face, for
which you raise your eyebrows.
Let’s save you the effort.
Then I’ll curl up in our bed,
half hollow half alien,
while the myth of our love hangs above us.
I’ll sing a song so beautiful, I’ll give you all my melodies,
so that when you sleep, you
dream and you dream and you dream.
Vedika Mehendale graduated with a degree in English and Creative Writing from Ashoka University. She is ever curious about translation, literary fiction and is trying to crack the art of writing a good poem. Elsewhere, she is found indulging in music and lots of good food.