Matsyagandha Poem by Nitoo Das

My body is a story
of smells.

I was a girl then
and did not know what it was
to smell otherwise.

Born of Adrika, the fish-woman,
loved by a fisherman father,
I only knew fish. Silver, black,
orange arrowing,
panting fish. I loved them
and smelt
like them.

Matsyagandha. I was
Matsyagandha.

And Parashar smelt me
and lusted after me and called me
names.

But Parashar, I work and you don't.

You roam and think
and have the consolation of leisure.
I row and sweat and fish with my father.
I work. You don't.

I am your fate, your secret.
You hate me and covet me
and have to grant me
boons of perfume.

Now I smell like jasmines for miles around me.
Men sniff and rise
sniff and die
around me.

This fake skin smell never washes away now.
I pace alone in palaces now
and remember my fish smell, my name.

All women smell like me.
I am Satyavati and I know
the truth now.