Aekta Khubchandani

 Through this intense poem we learn of Aekta's journey of the abuse and acceptance of her body.

Through this intense poem we learn of Aekta's journey of the abuse and acceptance of her body.

tongue—I learnt the bitter taste

of brutal beatings

passage of saliva helped me

swallow  a b u s e

 

(gulp)

 

the wall of my teeth, gated

it opened to only chew

I didn’t know how to

mouth the word—a b u s e d

 

(gulp)

 

lips—soft, fragile flesh

soaked in saliva, blood

they said that I bite myself,

unknowingly

 

I felt the word—r o u t i n e

plaster my skin, pierce my flesh

 

I bit a bar of bathroom soap

thought its scent would cleanse my mouth

 

while my body bred buds of bruises

I learnt the subtle difference

between shaking and shivering

some woman called me v i c t i m

 

(gulp.)

 

I learnt alphabets when his fingers

laced my body,

words when I was called names

gulp,

 

;

 

gulped.

 

Elderly persons called my flesh body a piece of art

A young man spat to my face

hung the tag—little red rotting hood over my breasts

his strong arms over my shoulders

 

in bed,

   I

grew.

 

grown, full bodied, unarmed,

 

now I tear more, chew less

bite, spit; swallow less.

Imitation is an off spring of art-

b e a t  the most.

 

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