Author Archives: Rita Malhotra Dr

Gangrape

a poem by

Dumbstruck time
Stands motionless
Head hung in shame

Broken thoughts fragment
The child-woman’s dreams
Dreams woven across time
Since the first stirrings of passion
When love’s frenzied pulse-beats
Went racing through her being
Disbelief breeds in the
Blood-soaked sheet
Evil lurks in every drop of air
Howling winds pound on
The lone window-pane
Hailstones rain ruthless

As dead dreams fall heavy on her
She staggers out in tatters
Bruised breasts smell of raw flesh
The soul weeps in the ashes
Of burnt apparels of dignity

A feeble futile attempt
To unwrite the story fails
Time stands stone-still
Echoes of dry dreams
Haunt uncertain metaphors
Of still-born tomorrows

Chrysanthemums

a poem by

We were brought up
By the rule book
That spelt love for us daughters
As immoral, infidel,
Masked, contagious
Dreams were cached
Within constrained confines
The self remained dwarfed-
Bonsai like
Unable to reach beyond its grasp
But a moment of wild defiance
Unleashed a tempestuous will
To self-expression
I followed love’s trail
Scanning the horizon of darkness
To arrive at the moonlit patch
Of a perplexed night-
A night that witnessed
Love’s intimate dance
In the sensual celebration of
Intimacy between
Soul, mind and body

With the first footfall of dawn
I tore all pages
Of the book of norms
Made paper-flowers out of them
This morning they have metamorphosed
Into golden-orange chrysanthemums.

Chrysanthemums

a poem by

We were brought up
By the rule book
That spelt love for us daughters
As immoral, infidel,
Masked, contagious
Dreams were cached
Within constrained confines
The self remained dwarfed-
Bonsai like
Unable to reach beyond its grasp
But a moment of wild defiance
Unleashed a tempestuous will
To self-expression
I followed love’s trail
Scanning the horizon of darkness
To arrive at the moonlit patch
Of a perplexed night-
A night that witnessed
Love’s intimate dance
In the sensual celebration of
Intimacy between
Soul, mind and body
With the first footfall of dawn
I tore all pages
Of the book of norms
Made paper-flowers out of them
This morning they have metamorphosed
Into golden-orange chrysanthemums.

Diamond

a poem by

Her heart leaps as she
drinks it’s beauty
and burns with desire
in it’s reflected firelight.
The belief that the gift of
a diamond perpetuates
love, adorns her face with
a complete smile.
It’s overpowering presence
on her ring-finger lends a
new definition to her and
splashes her with
colours of romance…

But, thoughts soon turn to
the street-child’s begging bowl:
his diamond is a single coin
dropped into it;
to a mother cradling the
infant in her arms:
her diamond is a smile adding
sparkle to the baby’s eyes;
to the terminally sick man
on his hospital bed:
his diamonds are the doctor’s
reassuring words;
for them the diamond on
a finger ring is just
plain carbon, no different
from the roadside charcoal
she smiles in realisation
that happiness is perhaps
the only real diamond…

Misplaced Love

a poem by

He was so there
like an overpowering presence
sprinkling colours of romance
from eyes that were an uproar of love…

Calm comfortable contentment
was hers.
She basked in the warmth
of his embrace.
Their arrested gazes
and lips that
spelt a thousand promises
caressed her like a trickle
of warm summer rain.
She remained secure in the
strength of his desire
like an infant in it’s
mother’s arms…

But today her self worth
is assaulted;
she carries the weight of
knowing that he was never hers.
Love was just a game of time,
a one dimensional reality.

The countless islands of her mind
resolutely prepare to face
the flood of raw tears
the torments of memory
the storm of anguish…
They are petrified by
the terror of love…