Two Poems by Sufia Khatoon

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Shortlisted for Yuva Puraskar 2020 and 22, Sufia Khatoon is a multi-lingual performance poet, artist, literary translator and facilitator. She is the Co-Founder of Rhythm Divine Poets community Kolkata and the Editor of EKL Review. She was nominated in 100 Inspiring Indian Muslim Women from West Bengal by RBTC.She has authored “Death in the Holy Month” shortlisted for Yuva Puraskar Sahitya Akademi 2020-22 and Ger-mi-na-tion(poetry). She is also the recipient of the Amio Santa Award 2017 for her philanthropic initiatives.She is a PR, Media and Event curator by profession.
She has presented her poems in The Festival of Letters, Yuva Sahiti(Delhi) and Avishkar Young Writers Festival Dibrugrh 2019, Eastern Regional Writers’ Meet 22 by Sahitya AKademi, Apeejay Kolkata Literary Festival 2019-20, Ethos Literary Festival Kolkata 2018-19, Bangalore Poetry Festival 22 and Chandrabhaga Poetry Festival 22 respectively.
Her works have appeared in Indian Literature Journal, The Outlook India, Aainanagar Journal, Bengaluru Review, The Alipore Post, Mad Swirl, Indian Periodical, TMYS Review, Narrow Road Review, Poetry Dialogue, The Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English 20-21, Kolkata Cadence anthology 21, Shape of a Poem Anthology 21, Witness:Poetry of Dissent Anthology 21, The Best of Mad Swirl 2020 Anthology, 100 Poems are not enough and forthcoming anthology like North Indian Language Anthology by Sahitya akademi, etc.
She has worked on a poetry installation called 300 Peace Poetry Prayer Flag installation which has been widely appreciated.

1

Growing deformed reflections

 

I passed the metro by the planetarium in a hurry to catch my breath.

The deformed air has engulfed

what used to be a fearless sky, now it contains –

 

crooked fingers unable to grasp the fleeting sunlight in a crowded bus;

 

an old face overgrown in excess boils hanging by the sagging skin, unable to see when to cross the road of disbelief ;

 

Durga* idol moving through the traffic, unable to see the lynching and mincing of people;

 

a garden unable to grow luscious ripened pomegranates, the mouth waits but it only grows decayed reflections of the belief that everything is just frighteningly beautiful and perfect.

 

The mirror’s ugliness is only for the ‘deformed’.

 

 

2

Khala’s mourning 

 

Ammi* weeps when the screen lights up with khala’s* last breath,

death comes in so many forms to me.

 

Tubes leaving something in her mouth,

a country of her ancestors, still working through her warm words.

 

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un*

We belong to Him and to Him we shall return.

 

The day is reluctant to end today, it is yet hopeful, the pigeons are drowsy and do not want to fly towards the rain clouds, I am thinking of khala in the camps after the 1947 riots feeding rice water to her young infant and her life stories. I wish there was more time.

 

How do I celebrate your story? How do I mourn now?

 

I don’t know how to console anyone anymore, I only know how to make the dying eternal,

this is how I mourn what dies in front of my eyes – living and non living.

 

*Khala is Aunt in Urdu and Ammi is mother. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un is a part of a verse in arabic from the Quran which translates to “We belong to Allah and to Allah we shall return”. The phrase is commonly recited by Muslims when a person experiences a tragedy in life, especially upon hearing news that a person has died.

 

Sufia Khatoon

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