"bindi" poems
I can barely see the Sun now.
It's slowly drowning into a pool of clouds,
turning a shade darker as it does so,
like a red bindi in the sky.
Awed by the mysterious beauty
I stand there starring.
Orange, pink and red clouds
fading into a deep blue.
The rest of the sky is covered with tiny shiny dots
and silhouettes of birds flying home
on the amber background.
The Sun's glowing like a jasper
and slowly it's completely under the horizon,
but a few rays cut through the clouds
like closing doors of the Heavens.
After the sunset the sky is a different kind of heaven.
The Night wears her beautiful cerulean dress,
decorated with diamonds we call stars.
They twinkle, they're a priceless sight,
covered often by clouds or pollution
seems like she is unhappy with us humans.
Nature, a vast beauty all around.
Despite being forgotten
it shows off it's beauty in a daily routine.
Do you care to notice?
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 1:02 AM UTC
In the morning I heard the Koel’s melodious call
It is a sure sign of Sneaking autumn’s fall
What a striking difference between winter and spring
It is undoubtedly season’s eternal king
I love nature’s green saree
She smiles with an uncontrollable spree
Her saree is full of beautiful flowers
there are very many different colours
Nature’s Bindi is the glorious sun
Her hair pin is the shining moon
She cools herself with her natural fan
Her stay here might be of a little span
She sits with an yellow sarree in the palanquin
The bride groom looks at her as if she were a queen
Her beauty and shyness is her divine pride
She is a newly married mesmerizing bride
the villages are replete with ripe corn
All the birds enjoy this beautiful morn
Mar 25, 2011
Mar 25, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum behad khoobsurat **
Ye jo tumne akhon ke kajal ko b palko ki had me dal rakha hai.
In aankhon ne jane kitna kehar sambhal rakha hai.
Kya chamak hai aankho me jaise ek choti si khush duniya ka sapna paal rakha hai.
Socha cheru thoda tumhe or thoda sata du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum nazneen **
Phir kuch tumhare galon k un khaddo ki gehrayi dekhi.
Na us se gehri koi khaayi dekhi.
Nazar htane wala tha k us muskan ne rok lia..
Muje aj sambhalne se pehle tere chehre nadan ne rok lia.
Jane tumhe ye sab kehna lagta hai khata kyu.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum dilnashi **
Vo choti si kali bindi jo thik maathe k me kahi hai.
Vo b har shayar ko kheench rahi hai.
Jaise muje kehti ** idhar aao tumhe kano k jhumko ka pta du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum dalkashi **
Ye phir thode uljhe thode suljhe baal hai.
Inki to ada hi bemisal Hai
Tumhe tang karte hai.
Manmarji chalate hai jaise tujse jung karte hai.
Chere pe aate hai tum unhe phir peeche karti.
Kabhi clip se kabhi rubber se kheenche rakhti **
Kabhi aaye chehre pe to shayad main b hta du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum koi kehkasha **
Or vo sone ki nath ko koi
kaise taal sakta hai.
Jise tumne apni teekhi si naak me daal rakha hai.
Or kuch batein in sab se pare hai.
Tera chutkan sa Gussa hai jane tu kaise handle kare hai.
Phir vo pyari si hasi vo sharm haya vo bachpana vo nadaniya.
Samjhdari vo nasamjhi
Vo adayein vo shaitaniya.
Or sambko tumne brabar rakha hai.
Jane ye hisab kaise lagakar rakha hai.
Kya kehna hai kya sunna hai kya bolna hai kya btana.
Kab ruthna hai kab manana hai kab satana hai kab jatana hai.
Teri har ek choti moti khoobiyon ne dil me aatank macha rakha hu.
Jane tune kitne salo se khud ko ishq se bacha rakha hai.
Jane mujme kab se or kyu ye thode guroor k lakshan aaye hai
K tuje suna sabne hai samjh sirf hum paaye hai.
Tum jaisa or koi mere aas paas ni hai.
Phir kaise manliya jaye tum aam ladki ** tum me kuch khas nahi hai.
Ha aj maine ek kadam apne beech ki sarhad se thoda bahar aaya.
Tumne apna hunar azmaya tha vo pic dalke use shayri bnake maine apna hunar aazmaya hai.
ye padhke tum socho k inam du is shayar ko ya koi saza du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum afreen **
Tum khoobsurat **
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 1:20 AM UTC
I am a small and expressive six-year-old
I just came back from India, just a trip to visit family
I wear a bindi
My hands are decorated with mehndhi*¹
I wear bangles on my arm of all different colors
I wore a little churi daar*²
And everyone teased me
“She has a disease?”
“Why is there a dot on your forehead?”
“You look funny”
A few of my friends tell me that I look pretty and they wish to wear it too.
I get a few compliments but the rest hurt
I never wore a bindi in front of them again
I washed my hands to rid the orange stains
I never wear my Indian clothes
I am a not so small and not expressive sixteen-year-old
I see music festivals, I see movies, I see the people who teased me when I was six
They wear the dots that I had worn
They decorate their hands with what they call “henna”
It wasn’t an Indian holiday
I’m a little hurt
Why was I teased?
But they are praised
“It’s aesthetically pleasing?”
“The bindi is indie”
Do not tease me for my culture
And then take it for your own praise
Is that even fair?
Do you think that’s fair?
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 11:47 AM UTC
bindi's grace the top of her mocha forehead.
wrist draped with bangles. African soul.
style so Afrocentric
afro so black panther
fist high in the air she is black pride. she embraces the motherland with open arms and is proud of her heritage. music notes hidden in the blacks of her eye. she is music. hiphop and r&b.;
tupac's lyrics ingraved on her tongue. words of left eye instilled in her brain.
music gives her life.
voice of an angel yet she stays mute. black ink at her fingertips and a notebook always at her side. she is a lyrisit. she is sassy. press the wrong button and she's gone for a moment but will soon comeback to earth. a beautiful quiet vibrant soul she is indeed. stubborn and mean at times but still as sweet as the refreshing taste of lemonade on a hot summers day.
she is Africa. she is India. she is Haiti. she is black pride. she is music. she is poetry. she is wonderful. she is comical. she is lovely. she is classy.
she is my big sister. O.Rob.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta hai.
Jab b puch lo kyu udas hai
Koi baat nahi kehta hai
Kya kho gya hai uska jo door desh me dhoondta hai
Sans is zami me hai
To vha ku ghumta hai.
Muje fark yun padta hai
Ku Maine is chand ko haste hasate dekha hai.
Ladte jhagadte roothte manate dekha hai.
Us chand Ka taqiya b uski ankho ki nami mehsus karta hai.
Bhai jan to hai par aapi ammi ki kami mehsus karta hai.
Vo vha aasman ki talash me gya hai
Apne sapno k jahan ki talash me gya hai.
Ab use is shehar ki chamak b raas ni aati
Kabhi bethkar sochta hai k is shehar kash na aati.
Maa ki panv ki jameen ko jannat hai janta hai.
Jo samne se jhagdta tha phone pe ammi Ka Sab kha manta hai.
Us chand Ka dil b toota hai kisi se keh ni paya
Sab kuch saha Akele
Bas Roye bina reh na paya
Ab Dard kam hai Bas kasak baki hai
Khalish baqi hai jakhm pe thoda namak Baqi hai.
Or Hume intezar hai k vo chand Jane ab Kab hasega
Kab utha k tasveer zindagi ki usme rang bharega
Chudi bindi mehndi libaz Sab shaunk thode kam ** gye hai
Ye Sab dekh k hairan hum ** gye hai
** skta hai ye likha b use na pasand aye
** skta hai nazarandaz kare ya nazarband kar jaye
Hume yakin hai vo Khud k Masle hal kar legi
Sabr or dua dono mile h use aj ni to kal kar legi
Dhal jayega jald vo saya jo chand pe aj betha hai.
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta hai.
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta hai.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 9:16 AM UTC
Only the eyes remain as they were.
The rest of her face is ravaged
by acid. Acid thrown by two
boys on a cycle. Just
another dare.
She combs her long hair carefully. Plaits it
neatly away from her face. No curtain of hair
to hide behind. Puts a bindi in the battleground
of keloids, scars and uncooked skin. She wears
them well.
The boys genuflect in a temple, mothers kissing
saffron kerchief covered heads
before they gel their hair
and go on another prowl. This is what
men do, you see.
Lakshmi puts another layer
of cream on her burns and then stands
behind a beauty counter selling bindis
and lipsticks to girls with unblemished faces,
like their eyes. Like her eyes.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 4:32 AM UTC
where is my indian
is it in the way i don't use my palms as a medium to transport rice into the back of my mouth
is it in the way my face turns gloomy at the sight of spice and curry
is it in my skin color that isn't as brown as you need it to be
is it in my eyebrows which aren't as bushy as per your requirements
is it in the way my tongue twists awkwardly as i say happy diwali
is it in the way amma is the most fluent piece of tamil i speak
is it in the way i didn't know how to recite the words at my grandpas funeral
is it in the way i cannot, for the life of me, name you another tamil movie besides chandramukhi?
or
is it in the religious classes i took up until age 12
is it in the ramayana epic that i learnt, age 8
is it in the sanskrit bhajans i was made to sing, not knowing what they meant, age 10
is it in knowing that ganesh is the remover of obstacles,
brahma, vishnu, shiva - the creator, the preserver, the destroyer
is it in the eyeliner drawing a bindi in between my eyes when i
head to the temple, to present myself as indian
where is my indian
is it on a checklist, is there a passing mark?
where is my indian
please tell me,
because i am tired of feeling like a foreigner in my own skin
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
Find yourself
Even in the clutter of chores
In the whistle of pressure cooker
In the clash of dishes and utensils
Search yourself
In the aroma of spices
In the color of vegetables
In the routines along the kitchen platform
In the rich gravies and the brew of juices!
Look out for yourself
In the clean mirrors
Along that fine line of kohl
In the strokes of the mascara
Over the gloss of lip shades
In that dot of bindi
Hold on to yourself
In the newness
With time, space and people
Evolve...not change!
Molt...not skin off!
Wear a new color over the base...de-color not!
Even in the dark
Can you not see thy radiant self
Glowing appraised from within!
You be your master
Look for traces of yourself
In your eye's mirror!
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
startle cracks
and curtain calls
my eyelids back
diaphanous dropped
and veils up
dewy bloom spotlit
monkeysuit chauffeur
denigrated daily
scratch behind his ears
you're doing OK
just mistook
vehicle for passenger
relax in seat back
let clear and present ever
steer biospheric lit
allow etheric hum
up the bony ladder
to outlook attic
bindi blinds lift
pretty bitchin'
46-bit binoculars
these holy puppet
hands have got
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC
Sights disable me by birth
Father as witness to.
Mother to teach A to Z every time
And trying well correcting my sight.
To leave school, after full fill lessons
To change my disable sight, why?
For my sight, present friends and other people,
Of book tonic, medicine plants,
Traditional treatments
And more other onetime roots,
But nothing change my sight,
At last the order coming,
Wear specs.
To run at 1st street
Saw, wore whole shop in saffron coluor,
In glass chamber, stick saffron bindi in all doll's forehead
And saffron specs covered their eyes.
Add verse displayed - buy specs
Get rusted lance free absolutely.
To reached eyes on 2nd street
The shop 'n' carpets are green,
All dolls had beard and turban
In theplank advertising - buy specs
Get sword 'n' a bottle perfume free.
In the 3rd street endered my face
Whole room yellow, front dolls, specs,
Everywhere yellow, display text be yellow,
If buy specs, wonderful wine free.
To the 4th street, move my foot
Whole floor blue like the sea,
At shop, dolls, specs, all are blue
Gospel on display board
Seat on heaven be reserve free, buy specs.
Much crouded in 5th street
From enterence and street , to shop are red
Dolls are spectrum of victims, specs are red
slogan of display plank,
Sharpen wooden spear free,
Under puchased all specs.
And stret boys call worst,
Throw ***** of guilty verse,
And much caper plays
At back, a crying noises
That 2nd street, ask a boy brokenly
Passed away whole street,
In which specs for my sight?
And which colour for specs?
I too distruct and move my leg to 6th street,
From door to everywhere crystal,
And the floor pellucid, on the street no crowd
At the shop no doll and display plank.
When wear crystal specs,to see my own me?
To know my friend, colour of appetite,
Depth of love, greatness of hope in eyes.
I pray, with pulsated heart,
And wait for specs on the 6th street.
==============================C N Kumar.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
She was sitting there
Crying silently
Mascara flowing down
Down her broken face
Her broken fate
She was not a boy
Her truth was hidden
"You have to be a boy"
Her truth was forbidden
Secretively
She took her mother's Bindi
Lying carelessly on the bed
And wore it on her forehead
It was the only rebellion she was allowed
In a society so afraid
Of someone different from the crowd
But for the moment
It was all she needed
"Don't make the gods cry"
But what about her own tears?
The Bindi on "his" forehead
Was human civilization's greatest fear
Everybody wore a mask
She just couldn't
Or she would die
She was shakti
She was power
She was courage personified
The Bindi on her forehead
they couldn't hide
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 6:37 AM UTC
thirty years is too thick a cobweb
says the Shepherd at the Bourne
though I know you're looking for her youth
and you aren't alone
how old was she? twenty?
red bindi and sari on head
newly wed ravishingly pretty
but no negatives I'm afraid
a few come up these creaking stairs
love's martyrs long survive
hold fore me their hearts bare
count on my archive
like you they seek that fateful face
where time stands evergreen
lost path invites one more retrace
a rewind to youthful skin
I tell them time's too thick a cobweb
with you I too grieve
sorry sir I have no negative
nothing's left to retrieve.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
She sits atop a hill,
the brown stone Goddess
Bleeding.
She squats and part her legs,
the yoni splattered with red,
Bleeding.
No cloth, no pad, no shame
a wild wild woman untamed,
Bleeding.
Her vermilion melts, and drops and paints,
her forehead to her yoni,
Bleeding.
The blood feeds earth
melting the hearth,
Bleeding.
The red of life,
preserved in a menstrual cup
Bleeding.
From the kumkum to bindi to choori to saree,
she a woman deliquescing in red,
Bleeding.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 10:32 AM UTC
click
click
clack
On a white marble floor
If you're a woman,
you already have
one foot out the door
of a room filled with
all the conversation
and opportunities
that a man can afford.
This is a scene we've all seen before.
Paid way less
when you're told
that you worked way more.
I'm sure a client will adore my face
in a meeting,
but what do i do with the horror
when he hears me speaking?
I'm reeking of the sour aftertaste of everyday misogyny.
My worth measured
by the distance between
my skirt and the floor.
And when I protest,
politely, of course
Being told that I can do better,
I can be more than a bore.
My skin revolts
From the last time a colleague
brushed his hand accidentally
against my everything.
My strength and independence rot
in catacombs made from begrudging wombs,
waiting for their lives to begin
before building a tomb for another.
My ears hear no corporate conflict.
My eyes read no unjust verdict.
My knees wobble of no panic.
My voice even now is not frantic.
I try to use my woman card as a shield,
But they already know I'll yield
Because sadly
Feminism, safety, and my daily routine
don't get along very well with each other.
If I could stretch myself to my full capacity;
Correction.
If you'd let me stretch myself to full capacity,
I'd be taller than these nine yards,
Stronger than this silken thread ,
Darker than this black,
Louder than this naked mic.
My worth is equal to the number of folds in this sari.
Uncertain.
Defined.
Redefined.
Ever changing.
As I shift move walk stumble run shuffle sprint
Dive
Into the storm.
Riot chhod,
I'm a civil war of colour.
Black sari
Black eyes
Black bindi
Golden jhumkas
Red lips
Multicoloured sword at my hip
Swinging at the shackles they placed on me.
Din ke dus dangey lad jaati hu mai,
Saal ki solah siyaahein bharke ruk jaati hu main,
Kabhi kahin khade rehne ki jagah mil jaye,
Toh iss duniya ki acchhaai se thak jaati hu main.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
*Ready for the wedding in her black attic
Wearing necklace of twinkling stars
Alluring bindi of shinning moon
Her blue wide eyes open with delight
Giggling of coyness from her lips of rivers
Plaited braids with fragrant ***** pine flowers
Night, walking languidly on green carpets
Getting on brown forests of chariot
Passing through villages, cities, towns
Ululation of owl's high-pitched wavering
Welcoming her to the ceremony !*
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
I was swimming across the deep blue,
Sad I was; wish you were there somewhere far.
Suddenly I noticed ,
a big silver bindi shimmering between the clouds.
I was swimming across the deep blue.
I was walking through the deep green.
Happy I was; hope you were there somewhere near.
Suddenly I observed ,
a big shadow following from behind.
I was walking through the deep green.
I was lying in your lap.
Content I was; hoping & wishing fingers crossed, the moment to freeze.
Suddenly I moved,
I noticed and realised , I was living an illusion.
I was in my dream... Dream became my reality
I was lying in your lap.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
Thanks aj supne wich aan lai
Bada dil c thuhanu dekhan da
Sohne lag rahe c
Yellow suit paya hoea c tuci
Bindi lagai hoi c choti wali
Kaash me thuhade office niche ake geda maar sakda
Par dar lagda tuci kuj galt n kr lawo
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 12:32 AM UTC
Our fate was written in the
folds of your mother and grandmother's saris, beautifully
intertwined with the gold patterns on
the long sheets of fabric.
It was written in the
hem of my father's hockey jersey, patriotic
to our love just as my father
is to his team and city.
And yet, not even the promises we made to
each other could hide the fact that a bindi does
not belong on my forehead, and that
you belong in a cricket field, not an arena.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
Step out from your silver screen and your golden slippers.
Unwrap your red wedding sari that hangs heavy on your shoulders.
Loosen the blouse that strangles your *******
Untie the skirt that suffocates your hips.
Throw away heavy golden earrings and necklace.
Wipe off the layers of kohl around your eyes.
Take off your clanging bangles.
Smash them in the ground and watch the colorful mosaic emerge under your bleeding feet.
Anoint yourself with this scarlet bindi.
Rub holud in the spaces you love and the spaces you don’t love yet. This is your holy ground.
This is where you will fight.
This is where you come alive.
Stand still and breathe.
Breathe, breathe, breathe, you are still alive yet.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
TOBY AND I HAVE TAKEN TO WEARING BINDI
WHICH HAS CAUSED QUITE A STIR
IN OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD
WHERE THERE ARE A LOT OF BIGOTS.
I CALL THEM BIGOTS
BUT TOBY PREFERS MAGGOTS
AND WHEN I SIT AND THINK ABOUT IT
I AGREE WITH HIM.
HE'S ONLY A CAT
BUT HE HAS A VERY BIG BRAIN
WHICH SOME PEOPLE THINK MEANS
HE'S EXTREMELY INTELLIGENT
BUT I DON' T
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC