by Shobhana Kumar
Pinstripes and black shoes,
Brushed and polished
Like antique silverware,
Waiting to check in
another frequent flier mile.
Homemakers in delicate chiffons
Chanting instructions
For dinner to be laid out at home.
Honeymooners who bury
Night cravings
Over sweet nothings
Oblivious to tut-tutting moralists.
Executives who must log
Reports before boarding time.
An occasional child,
Impatient in conversation
With his own.
Bermuda-clad, accented Indians
wearing bemused expressions of an
India they no longer know.
Women lost in books,
And men buried in their mobile phones.
Travellers who commute
without a word in exchange.
it must be the chill of the air
conditioning
in the airports.
or is it?
Shobhana Kumar’s first volume of poetry, ‘The Voices Never Stop,’ was published by Writers Workshop, Calcutta in 2012. Her work is featured in ‘The Dance of the Peacock—An Anthology of English Poetry from India’ edited by Dr. Vivekanand Jha and will appear in a forthcoming anthology of contemporary women’s writing from India. Her work has also appeared or is forthcoming in several journals in India, USA, Canada and the UK. Origami Poems Project ‘has recently published her first micro-chap book, ‘It’s winter after spring.’ She has authored five books of non-fiction. Her short stories are featured in New Asian Writing and will be part of the 2013 anthology. Her second volume of poetry, ‘*Conditions Apply’ will be published by Writers Workshop in 2014.
Felt the chill of the air, shobana, A keen eye to the minute detail there, i see a mischevious twinkle too 🙂