Aparajita Dutta writes

Pro-Creation

I was allured to that sperm,

An idea, cerebral and propitious

like the ant-hills of Valimiki.

Promises embellishing those words

curved delicately as you penned them down

your ink ejaculating a star

which will once shine in your name

and be the lexicon of your intellectual exploits,

Infiltrating my barren bosoms with lactogen.

I fell in love with the vision of that foetus,

Hormonal excuses sacrificed in that bibliography,

Your pedagogy, I knew would create

A revolution ...

A critical review, citation, compilation!!

Insecure and desperate I was

to feel the man who created that sperm;

Sculpturing the promise of life

an abysmal cognizance --- theory and activism!!

I turned down the ashes and brushed my fire;

A melancholic draft breeding my desire---

That sperm—

My blood refused to break

a monotonous surname;

Perhaps an addition

you recognized, garnering the references

of a promised motherhood---

My children justified the union

They never knew the black hole of style sheet

and faced the file that would print me

In love-making; while you explored your brawn,

Testing my nerves-- their impulse to deliver and withdraw,

And I obeyed like a patient,

Undressing my skill-sets --- you examined them

Each one, with your jagged methodology,

Before you made love to me;

Fondled my ideas, the swollen nipples

of sentences, paragraphs and fonts.

Then I was impregnated ---

I feel the baby's snarls as you sleep,

with women we can never know;

I feel the baby's worlds as you sleep

with women and their tags devouring your semen;

Our baby grows in me unlike them

who feasted upon your fleshy love;

Girlfriend, wife--- such unfortunate,

Deprived of our infinite intellect.

So, tonight I shall not be alone.

My body is now

Your writer's retreat,

A doctor's lab

where our baby grows in my care

and together we shall give birth,

You and I both wailing in labour,

For the baby who shall show the world

Something new.

Others shall come forward

As here, you sacrificed your women,

and I, my lust for your surname.

So together, we shall wail in labour

Of publication with me, your co-author.

 

Aparajita Dutta writes

You, your Theory and  I
 

I met your theory,

I was jogging in the lake.
The morning zephyr paraded
Along the literature review,
Lifting a second
To summon my desire.
Vāk left me alone,
A prize for my diligence.

I simpered as I learnt
The methodology;
The leaves soaked their petals
In the energy of your analysis.
I could see those late-nights,
Reviews scratched in red
and a tired laptop screen.

Your belitrism tormented me,
The theory's gaze
Made me aware 
Of my upcoming menstrual cycle;
I felt the sweat of your lips 
In your rendition 
Of the psyche of the universe.
The words traveled 
Touching my abdominal cramps 
And my breasts felt lighter.
But my shoulders were distraught,
Writing allegations against Vāk,
a trick that was deployed
Without taking the consent 
Of my spinal cord,
Desolate...lonely!!

My marred heart took your theory,
Depriving me 
Of the joy that perhaps 
Could have been mine;
When I met your theory,
Jogging in the lake
And Vāk left us alone 
To nurture an intellect in need.

Vak (pronounced as Vaak) is the Goddess of the hymn, Devisukta (it's a hymn of Rigveda). She is the seer herself and the deity too. According to the hymn, Vaak or the word is the origin of all creations. A word once uttered can never be destroyed.