before I knew about blood I learnt that
skinning potatoes is all in the wrist
especially if your hands are weak
and onions should be rinsed in water
if you don’t want to cry (which apparently means your mother in law does not like you).
Abba enjoys tomatoes in his dish
but they are too acidic
a bit of sugar sprinkled over them
before they’re added does the trick
“My place” was in the kitchen
instead of the outside (because fresh air is too dangerous for a girl after she’s 7).
and the man of my future
would love that I cook.
before I discarded childhood
along with those rotten dhanya leaves
before I became a woman
I was trained into a wife.
” A woman’s hands never burn.” (in the kitchen of course)
but mine burn
they burn every single time.
Samihah Pargas: Instagram @ShadesOfHerInk
Photo Credit: Instagram @DupattaDiaries
There are nights I have sat through, waiting for the sun to rise – when I had every reason to be sleeping. But I know that deep down, I was waiting for you to find me. That you’d have reached home a long while back and would possibly be biding your spare time reminiscing over old photographs. I’d hope that you decided to think about me. I also know that it is unlikely that a mere thought would bring you towards me, but the love burning inside my heart makes me hold on to the miniscule chance that it could. I feel pathetic, do you know that ? I feel like I am begging for reciprocation at the door step of someone who I know might not even set foot outside to see. You once told me that I am earth and you are water, and that between such people, something beautiful could grow – or mud would be created. In whatever has grown between us, darling, I have been sinking. You have left me to drown. It’s unfair. I have been unfair to myself. You told me that we drifted apart. Don’t insult my love by ever thinking it abandoned you. While I have tried to walk away, it has stood its ground for you. All I ask now is that you treat it kindly. Soothe whatever dignity is left of it. This love is exhausted, it’s been bruised.
And still, it waits for you.
“Appreciate the fact that you are breathing“, you say.
I don’t respond. I am gasping for air beneath my tears. You seem concerned and confused as to how to handle my breakdown. In this situation, we exchange roles from you trying to soothe my shivering body to me consoling you; nodding my head, barely managing an “I’ll be fine.” We both know that fine will not come soon.
On days like these I do not need your logic. I need the warmth in your hands and your chest to remind me that I’m not just “breathing” alone. I need your eyes to convey your love into mine. I need your understanding, not your replies. God sometimes sends people to us when we are drowning, you stand close and unsure of how to offer your hand. Simply open your arms. I will retreat into them, unravel my self back into fragile skin to fill them. Tell me that you are here to pull me back ashore. Stay holding me long after these tears run dry.
– Samihah Pargas
– Instagram : @Shadesofherink
Warm tear drops kiss my hand on this cold night. The sky is tinged with a deep purple, a quiet purple. Even amongst the stars, there is only silence. Continue reading The Night-Long Lament: Contemplation and Prayer