Brinda’s Breasts

vikas chandra

That lasting pilgrimage, from Dhaka to Kalimpong
Thru snaky streets, nay rivers, march dogged conquests
In beelines to redemption, echo many a swan song
“Moti! Pay heed! For to you, they belong, Brinda’s breasts!”

O’er many monsoons, sprouted from a Brahmin’s rib cage
Two murky nipples, stood out to hunger’s tests
And they sank and soared, to famines’ outrage
As they learnt to, come of age, Brinda’s breasts

How a bride was cut, of a puny village lass
Who brought dearth and virtue, her only bequests!
Didn’t last though, past a night alas!
Misery, in the flesh, be it so, Brinda’s breasts

A widow, an outcast, an exile, a Shudra’s keep
In his arms, makes way, to the Promised Land’s quests
Atop a hushed heart, a heartless bosom dead-asleep
Brazen, Unsuckled, unrequited fests, Brinda’s breasts

© 2016 Vikas Chandra

View original post


Submit a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s