Pankhuri Sinha (1975) is an Indian poet, writer and translator. She has published several books: ‘Koi-bhi-Din’ and ‘Kissa-e-Kohinoor’, two books, both collections of literary stories published in 2005 and 2008, by Gyanpith, a reputed name in Hindi literary publishing; Prison Talkies, a collection of poems, published by Xlibris, Indiana, July 2013; ‘Dear Suzannah’, second collection of poems published by Xlibris, Indiana, 2014; Collection of poems in Hindi, ‘Raktim Sandhiyaan’, published by Sahitya Bhandar, and launched in Delhi world book fair 2015; Second Collection of Hindi poems, ‘Bahas Paar ki Lambi Dhoop’ published by Bodhi Prakashan in 2017; Third Collection of Hindi Poems ‘Pratyancha’, published by Bodhi Prakashan, in Nov 2018. Awards: Bihar Sahitya Sammelan Shatabdi Samman, by the Bihar Unit of Sahitya Academy, India, March 2019; honoured by the International Jan Lekhak Sangh, Nepal, June 2018; Pandulipi Puraskar, by Bihar Rajbhasha Vibhag, May 2018; first prize for poetry by Rajasthan Patrika, Jaipur, January 2017; Rajeev Gandhi Excellence Award for creative writing in Hindi, June 2013. She currently Teaches in the department of Hindi and History, at undergraduate, graduate and post-graduate level in a govt. college in Bihar, India, as guest faculty.
Cat Sleeps
The cat has slept many sleeps
Before Noon
By which time
I have just conquered my anger
Conquered or barely so
For I am so compelled to touch the cat
Hold it against my ravaged body
For he brings such relief
And knows
For often
Seems to say
Allowed
Are your caresses
Your kisses
Granted
In the manner of the lords
Completely permitted
For your sake alone
Even as he likes them
And says so
And purs
But right now
Having slept
Those many sleeps
God knows which ones
Dreamless sound sleeps
God knows
Been where
What, if at all
Cats dream of
Academics can tell you
And so can the cat
For it has different moods
Different times
Drool sometimes
As he sleeps
Completely curled up
Neck apart at times
Mad
If you poke your finger
Rules of touching
Kept with bites
Rules of touching
Defied in comebacks
In comebacks so glorious
So committed
Mind blowing it is
To find the cat
Once again
On top of your bed
The comforter
That is.
Rules of touching
Defied in strange allowances
Made by the cat
It’s the view
From the tree top
From the hill top.
From the cat in my lap.
From being with the cat
The view
Acquired together.
Cat Touches
And around he comes
Making friends again
Extending an arm of friendship
No paws extended
No claws
Not even his voice
Its just that look of silence
And what a look it is
Says so much more than
Please
Won’t you please
Try, its very satisfying
And she knows
Its not just the licking of the fingers
The man beast encounter
Its so much more
But right now
The look
Deepening every minute
When she just cannot
Cannot afford
Is making her want to breastfeed
And she cannot tell the cat
How much she loves
And the cat goes to his owner
Opens his mouth
And meows and meows
Like children complain
Like children act
And I just sit there
Wanting to feed and breastfeed.
How They Tracked My Reading
How they tracked my reading
Sending somebody
Slightly suspicious
With a visible compromised presence
Provoking questions
Taking away the comfort of the moment
As I lingered over my book
Lingered slightly longer
Than the time
They had estimated
Or allotted
To everyone
Including those
Coming back to reading
After long years
Gap years
As they say
But it was what that method of tracking did
To those returning
From say
Even a big major accident
And now being pushed into
A new kind of medical politics
Having been told
About the prospect of defective child birth
Giving birth to a deformed baby
Being told all alone
All alone
With the book reading
And on such an evening
Dark and gloomy
When all was so bright
Only you had been put through
Amazing processes of people talk
Of critics cleansing
Of all your action having been reduced to foolishness
How the beauty of the flower
Was completely destroyed
With its cunning
Conniving usage
Language wars
That made the remembrance day poppies
So hard
Just that
And more layers
Of espionage filled talk
Because the flower in your language
Phonetically resembled
The fool
From all foolish actions
Or actions made foolish
So hard to describe
What the lovely flower now did
As people simply wore them
On their coats
Specially as they carried
Further strange messages.
Further symbols of old battle fronts
Trenches
Signs, as a sign language spoken
In the middle of a war.
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