Author Archives: Sunita Singh

Love

Love is not the ruby lips in a half-smile

or kohl – lined eyes

beckoning to the lover

love is the weather – beaten face wrinkled in a grin

watching the gurgling child

calloused hands

making chapattis for a family of five

mangled hair, dirty skirt

bare feet running in the fields

after that errant calf and sheep

the sure – footed gait of a woman

carrying pots of water

on her head

The Dark Rose

She was about nine or ten
selling bunches of red roses
a tattered frock, mangled hair
but her eyes – shone!
as she stood on tip- toe and stretched out her hand
when my car stopped at the traffic signal.
I smiled and she smiled back
“Aren’t you afraid of the cars” I asked
“No” she laughed
then showed me a wound
which looked like a dark rose –
the colour of blood!