Melizarani T.Selva
Excerpts from the solo show "Eve and Mary Are Having Coffee"
THE WOMAN
I am the woman who writes the powerful sentences that you only dare listen but never say I am the woman who dreams of the dreams you consider a taboo to even let linger and stay I am the woman who will find a way when they "try" to give you their best shot I am the woman who will actually multi-task and give you everything I've got I am the woman who saunters into the room in a high-waisted skirt and cleavage showing top that will make your manhood scream and eyes pop I am the woman who will give you a reason to stare and be slammed for sexual harassment And when the management does nothing to stop you, I'll send you sweet flowery cards with passive aggressive statements till you call your mother and seek for forgiveness I am the woman who will make you believe in God or some divine cosmic energy force or the universe because if you cross my path you will need a miracle I am the woman who will get down on her knees and fix that broken printer and will need no assistance for transportation For I am the woman who will drive you wild I am the woman, the reason that "glass ceiling" exists otherwise you'd be landscaping the sidewalk and not some fancy executive. Fret not over inconsistent charity campaigns and CSR effort I am the woman who will give your organisation a heart I am the woman whose figure is shaped by reality not magazine covers Whose spirit is toughened by unreasonable silence and rejection letters My combination of being Indian and woman is now cursed to fail and be deadly You see, my Master's Degree and youth sacrificed work experience; are just mere words that fill a column in the CV While you regard my certificates as fancy coloured paper and you told me, my sun kissed brown skin passed down through generations of hard labour needs to be concealed by a thick layer of foundation, powder and blusher or else you fear the audience will die of disgust and blindness or even take to the streets to protest the appearance of a brown spot in their television Do not photograph me in a saree for your national advertisements If you do not want me to read the national news walaupun saya fasih dan petah bertutur dalam Bahasa Melayu Or should I say Bahasa Malaysia because you made it mandatory for me to get an A Patriotic but not very useful in the end, I'll say! I am the woman, the gadis, the ponnu, the xiao jie that you need to represent but due to "unforeseen circumstances", you won't. So if anyone, anyone walks through that door and asks for my description Tell them I am the woman they know deep down is, The Woman.
MAHARANI
Maharani was crafted for a spoken word cabaret titled 'Tongue Tied', performed at Urbanscapes 2013.
Harmonium plays a melody. Maharani dances to the rhythm; her back is facing the crowd. Tabla beats accompany
her every move as she spins around and struts to the side of the stage, teasing the crowd with her footsteps coming
close to them and running coyly back to the centre of the stage.
They cut me, from the finest silk they could find
Adorned me
with jewelled expectations
ornate obligations
I am goddess, queen, wife and mistress
all in a single body
they worship me
when crops don't flower and fruit
they sing me praises and promises
for boons
for rain, in exchange
they carve my name into a country
But when in vain
they chain my soul, to holy matrimony
Sigh...
I will tell you my story
about the string of broken hearts, I wear around my ankles
Seven, in total
deadly sins of my hollow lovers, I danced
to please
to appease
their desires and daydreams
Come to me now, hear me
hear me
on how I came to be, the queen of all queens,
Maharani
I was born to a family who preferred a son
Appa believed I was the manifestation of all sins he had done
In his past life and present
He named me Karma
And I was arranged to marry the highest bidder
So that they could afford college for my brother
At sixteen, I was a wife to an army Captain
Who lost his right leg in the war
He kept me
to keep his balance
I was the shape of the trophy he never got
and the colour of badges securing his insecurity
You see, he was not very able
Fuelled by jealousy,
towards all the other men who looked at me
Oh! He was always angry.
Shouting and yelling, on top of his voice
He confined me to the house
telling me I was ugly and misbehaving
So, I had to tie my hair into a bun
cook and clean
Till one day, the kitchen "accidentally" caught fire
while he was asleep
it's a good thing I had the house keys
but I forgot that he was locked in.
The next day, I went to the market
seated between the brinjal seller and the milk man
there was this strong fellow carrying 10 sacks of rice, in one hand
and a guitar on his back
I thought he was very dashing
He thought I was very pretty
Even composed a melody
to ask for my hand
that Sunday at his church, he was my husband and the wedding band!
A rockstar, he was
strumming the heartstrings of every young ladki in town
I didn't mind, for he always came home to me
Even when he was feeling low; he was always high
I thought music intoxicated him, till I found the real reason why
He promised to never do cocaine, or alcohol, ever again
but then my gold bangles went missing and my mother's earrings too
I asked, he called it 'In. Vest. Ment'
but I didn't know he was a fraud
said the needles in his skin brought him closer to God
"Haiyo, only little bit darling. Little bit," he said
So I helped him get a little more
but little plus little became too much
So sad I was, when I buried him as such.
I tried to find something to do
but to read and write, I had no clue
till Khan from Kashmir, came to the library
wore a long blue kaftan and recited verses of poetry
My guru, he was, kindly and wise, through Tagore and Rumi
I was his humble student during the day
and his modest wife at night
Together we built a house on his words
with metaphors for pillars
and a grammatically solid roof
He changed my name to Rani when I learnt to recite too.
Oh my sweet love for him
how he took my breath away
Alas, not with his soft lips
but his hard hands
left scars on my face
I had embraced thorns before
but this flower wounded me, behind closed doors
I cried till I had no tears left
when the crooked book shelf I leaned on
fell atop him and crushed his spine
My dry eyes made it easy to restore all other book binds.
I had not seen pass the Himalayas
or the horizons beyond my motherland
till William arrived on a jet plane
His fair skin was a milk flow of memories
his blue eyes showed deeper seas
as he mapped out countries with the symphony of his accent
He said I was the most exotic of all
through mouthfuls of curry
He could never pronounce my name
So, it was "Hey Baby, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai" like it was the same
Because he said I was his one and only Rani
Then, his other Rani called from London
two kids, also he tried to hide,
So I made him his favourite curry
Two spoons of turmeric,
one spoon of rat poison
and a pinch of salt
And he never left the dining table
but it really wasn't my fault.
Inspector Sir came knocking and suspecting
asking why my garden was cemetery
I could never give him all the answers
so, I said "Yes.", when he blackmailed me to marry
his snoring, drooling and his weak will
Called me a Goddess, he worshipped my body
but had no love for me
He replaced his passion with a blue pill
and I replaced myself with a snake in our bed
to remind him of how hard, he never was
I was tired of all this ordinary men
so I went to the palace to be the Sultan's courtesan
He loved my dancing
ruled the country, at the tap of my feet
I was his queen to be
Then, he said he had to marry another woman
because I was not made from noble blood
Not the heir to the throne
just the heir to his lap
So, I stabbed, him twenty five times
one for every year of my life.
Every wife, in the world has entertained the thought of getting rid of her husband, at least once
For me, it was seven times
Wait, one, two, three,
four, five six,
Arrey! There were only six!
I was never really good at Mathematics
*searches the crowd and points to a man in the audience*
You!
You want to teach me?
You can be my Number Seven!
*points at another man*
or you, "Will you marry me?"
Yes? No? Maybe?
Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me.
*laughs and dances off stage*
No men were harmed during the production of this poem.