“Who goes there padding across the sand?”
Shaggy mane shaking with grit and rage commanded
the horizon; eyes held steady. But the She-poet stood
at ease. Held her ground undeterred and unafraid
on the desert strand.
Sari tucked into waist, standing straight, her glasses glinted
putting the mica to shame. And then she squealed:
“What kind of a riddle is that? Silly cat!
Looks like you’ve lost your touch.”
“I am female. I am feline. But silly? That I am not.”
Retorted the nose-less one. Meanwhile
a truant wind played tic-tac-toe below. And solemnly seated,
crouching low with history in her claws
the Sphinx contemplated past glory.
The smaller woman admired the historic significance
of her posture. “Hard to believe that it is all over
and buried in the sand. I mean, all those handsome
young men who succumbed to the charms of your intellect.”
The stoic ignored the dig. Ignored the puny thing far down
and freshly sore from her camel ride, which stamped
idlis and pappadams on quartzified semolina fields. Salt slaked
dunes slyly smiled. Paw raised in half mast, the lizard communed,
unaware of destiny waiting in the coils of an Asp.
Tamil she-poet with notebook and pen poised, pondered.
The Sphinx unable to resist this owlish tidbit hopping about,
just waiting to be devoured. Barked out a riddle:
“What paints yet does not a brush wield? Weaves
the smallest histories in tapestries
with neither wool nor dye? Conjures dreams
on fragile papyrus sheets. Tell me. Tell me
quickly or else I–” Girlish laughter trilled,
outraging the wind
that was gently playing its own tootsie game.
“Dear girl, you have truly lost it now. Your head
is full of sand. Your teeth are nothing but sandy gaps.
What you’ve asked of me is no riddle, it’s too easy!
Everybody knows. The answer is right here
below your dethroned nose!
And your grammar’s rusty too. It’s not what but who.
As for papyrus that’s no longer used, you extinct fool!”
Thus, with that badinage tossed over, like a handful
of grains at pigeons strutting over petrified ornamentations
in crowded plazas, the Tamil She-poet walked away
with her notebook fluttering like a pennant in her hand,
sentencing the Sphinx
to another timeless era of sulking silence.
Rumjhum Biswas writes because otherwise she’ll bash her own head against a wall or do something equally stupid. She blogs at http://rumjhumkbiswas.wordpress.com/ and webs at www.rumjhumbiswas.com. In between she tries to be a good mom and wife.
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8 Responses to “IN WHICH A TAMIL SHE-POET CONFRONTS THE SPHINX • by Rumjhum Biswas”
Comments
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January 8th, 2009 at 12:27 am
What a fun story, Rumjhum! Well done.
Only a pity that the title didn’t fit into the space provided. I assume the word there was supposed to be Sphinx. (The SPH mystified me at first!)
January 8th, 2009 at 12:41 am
Fortunately I was able to fix up the title. (I should note that I have absolutely nothing to do with EDP’s editorial choices, but I sometimes troubleshoot WordPress issues for them!).
Lovely poem, Rumjhum. I enjoyed reading that.
January 8th, 2009 at 4:18 am
Oh, lovely you got it fixed, Camille!
January 8th, 2009 at 7:02 am
Thanks Camille. Camille saves my skin on a regular basis folks. I’ve still learning.
Rumjhum, this one is magic
January 8th, 2009 at 9:57 am
Thank you all. I enjoyed writing this poem; and thanks to EDP’s encouragement it’s seen the light of day.
Warmth and good wishes,
Rumjhum
PS: I haven’t been online for nearly a fortnight. This is a lovely surprise.
January 9th, 2009 at 10:01 pm
Enjoyed reading it again and again
January 11th, 2009 at 7:36 am
Beautiful poem of the meeting of knower of mysteries with knower of mysteries of an endangerer with a scorner. But why do succumbing handsome young men have to be dragged into everything?
January 13th, 2009 at 3:39 am
Heh! Good Question Roberta. Ask the Sphinx!