Bio Note: I had just been transferred by my employer to a new city, Mumbai, when the pandemic hit us last year. Away from family, I started writing poems, after a gap of many years and splashing paint on canvas. Some of the poems got published, while the paintings have remained a constant source of amusement to friends and family, even as they attempt to give them appropriate captions. The poems written last year, have appeared in Borderless, Setumag and in a couple of anthologies published by Hawakal.
I try hard to keep up that falsetto of hope when we speak, for I know that your heart beats in a balloon of anxiety. I don’t tell you how I lost out on the cubicle game at work or that I have been benched. I let you know that I have transformed myself into a consultant and clients with piercing eyes carefully steal ideas of my futuristic deals. I send you links to the memes, I put up on my newsfeed. You wonder why there are no selfies these days, but as you know work from home is not about going places. We don’t talk about the virus. You have become a praying mantis and are sending auric healing to the sick and needy. But I have grown a thick, resistant cuticle over the past months. I send you shots of the sunset, most days and we exclaim over the surprise of the colours. As I walk alone in the beach I smear my mind yellow-blue- purple. There’s an iridescence that briefly holds out, against the flickering darkness.
©2021 Geetha Ravichandran
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