Man, Woman And Desire Poem by Arun Maji

No, I don't want to wear beautiful wear.
Yet, unaware
I wear them anyway.

But if you don't even bother to look at me
Then why do I do it Amal?
Why?
Why do I dress beautifully
And then look at you thirstily?

Gone are those days
When you literally fought with me
To make me wear beautiful dresses.
And after making me wear gorgeous dresses,
You would stare at me
With fire in your eyes
And burn in your waist.
You would come to me frighteningly close
With your breast touching my bosom,
Breath burning my skin,
Teeth paining my lips,
And waist ripping my fragile patience.
I was wet even before I knew it.

Such was your volcanic fire,
Such was your beautiful burn
Such was your sweet pain.

But now?
You don't even bother to touch me.
Tell me Amal
How many times you kissed me
In last one week?
Not once.
Not even once Amal.

All is dead now, buried now.
Your love, your fire, your storm, your rain
They are all dead and buried.

Yet, I still wish
When I stand before mirror
You come from behind silently
And hold me to your breast.
Then you caress petals of my flowers,
Tease fruits of my garden,
And jump into river of my secret valley.
And after your wild swim is over
You kiss my forehead and tell me
"you are the sweetest of the flowers
I ever know, Malobika."

But Alas! You don't do it.
My garden is waiting to be plundered
My flowers are waiting to be teased and crushed
Yet that hungry wolf is not there.
That sweetly cruel wolf is dead.
That kindly voracious volcano is buried.

If the man does not plunder
His women's garden
Then why the woman grows her garden?
If the man does not undress her woman
Then why does the woman dress?
If the man does not pain her woman
Then why the woman wears fragrance?

You the man are so naïve,
So dumb,
I pity you. I despise you.
I shed tears for you.

© Arun Maji