Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Shubham Shree

JUST FOR YOU, SIMONE

1.

What have you done to me, Simone?
I was walking along
perfectly steady

on that path where

goddess-worthy
‘Purity’
awaited me

What you did was wrong . . .
you shoved me right in the middle of the path
to be ‘used’
such a dirty word

Tell me, Simone, why’d you do a thing like that?

2.

You
flow—
a word inside me

a thirst soars
I hear
a beautiful melody

If only I could write such a poem
after meeting you

All I’ve written instead
is the name ‘Simone’

all over the entire page
criss-cross

3.

I know you
You’ll start out talking about Derrida

Suddenly Virginia will flash through your mind
as you quote Bertrand Russell

You’ll explain Vatsayayan
in an argument about quotas for women

A full dozen cigarettes will burn to ash
on the way to my freedom

Despite loathing your kind
I adore you

I know
the meaning of equality
is not employment, quotas, or power
It’s getting in bed
my living body

I know

you want a few intimate moments
in order to make your mark on being ‘truly modern’

After some ‘elite’ and ‘intellectual’ sex
when I will think

I am free
truly modern too . . .
then

I know
you’ll think of one little word

loose

4.

Do you know, Simone,

I often think
no, not think: want

to send
a few copies of The Second Sex

not to the women
who are updating their blogs

in a hurry for a meeting
wrapped up in debate

not to ‘thinking women’

No, to those

who sit

waiting for a groom to be bought for them

They’ve already claimed
a few years running
to be nineteen

I want

someday, when they’re embroidering
crocheting
watching serials

to quietly hand over a copy

Since the pay hikes of the Sixth Pay Commission
boys have gotten expensive
Loans won’t cover the cost

Those women pray
sixteen Mondays

five Tuesdays seven Saturdays
without water without food

I want

them to read

instead of the tale of the Thursday Fast
you, your words

You know
I am afraid
I don’t know

when
they’ve spent
their time

cooking
sewing
embroidering flowers on saris

by then
at the age of thirty
if by chance the deal
has been sealed

bound in the marriage sutra
pretending to be a girl of twenty-one

if they begin to store their bangles
wrapped
in the pages of The Second Sex

what then, Simone?

सिर्फ तुम्हारे लिए... सिमोन

सिर्फ तुम्हारे लिए... सिमोन

 (1)

तुमने मुझे क्या बना दिया, सिमोन ?
सधे कदमों से चल रही थी मैं

उस रास्ते पर
जहाँ

जल-फूल चढ़ाने लायक
'पवित्रता'
मेरे इंतजार में थी

ठीक नहीं किया तुमने...
ऐन बीच रस्ते धक्का दे कर
गलीज भाषा में इस्तमाल होने के लिए

बोलो ना सिमोन, क्‍यों किया तुमने ऐसा ?

(2)

'तुम
मेरे भीतर शब्द बन कर
बह रहे हो

तिर रहा है प्यास-सा एहसास
बज रही है
एक कोई ख़ूबसूरत धुन'

काश ऐसी कविता लिख पाती
तुमसे मिलने के बाद

मैंने तो लिखा है
सिर्फ
सिमोन का नाम
पूरे पन्ने पर
आड़े तिरछे

(3)

मुझे पता है
तुम देरिदा से बात शुरू करोगे

अचानक वर्जीनिया कौंधेगी दिमाग में
बट्रेंड रसेल को कोट करते करते

वात्स्यायन की व्याख्याएँ करोगे
महिला आरक्षण की बहस से

मेरी आजादी तक
दर्जन भर सिगरेटें होंगी राख

तुम्हारी जाति से घृणा करते हुए भी
तुमसे मैं प्यार करूँगी

मुझे पता है
बराबरी के अधिकार का मतलब
नौकरी, आरक्षण या सत्ता नहीं है
बिस्तर पर होना है
मेरा जीवंत शरीर

जानती हूँ...

कुछ अंतरंग पल चाहिए

'सचमुच आधुनिक' होने की मुहर लगवाने के
लिए

एक 'एलीट' और 'इंटेलेक्चुअल' सेक्स के
बाद
जब मैं सोचूँगी

मैं आजाद हूँ
सचमुच आधुनिक भी...
तब

मुझे पता है
तुम एक ही शब्द सोचोगे
'चरित्रहीन'

(4)

जानती हो सिमोन,

मैं अकसर सोचती हूँ
सोचती क्या, चाहती हूँ

पहुँचाऊँ
कुछ प्रतियाँ 'द सेकंड सेक्स' की

उन तक नहीं
जो अपना ब्लॉग अपडेट कर रही हैं

मीटिंग की जल्दी में हैं
बहस में मशगूल हैं

'सोचनेवाली औरतों' तक नहीं

उन तक

जो एक अदद दूल्हा खरीदे जाने के इंतजार
में

बैठी हैं
कई साल हो आए जिन्हें
अपनी उम्र उन्नीस बताते हुए

चाहती हूँ

किसी दिन कढ़ाई करते
क्रोशिया चलते, सीरियल देखते

चुपके से थमा दूँ एक प्रति
छठे वेतन आयोग के बाद

महँगे हो गए हैं लड़के
पूरा नहीं पड़ेगा लोन

प्रार्थना कर रही हैं वे
सोलह सोमवार


पाँच मंगलवार सात शनिवार
निर्जल.,.निराहार...


चाहती हूँ

वे पढ़ें

बृहस्पति व्रत कथा के बदले
तुम्हें, तुम्हारे शब्दों को
जानती हो
डर लगता है
पता नहीं

जब तक वे खाना बनाने
सिलाई करने, साड़ियों पर फूल बनाने के
बीच
वक़्त निकालें
तब तक

संयोग से कहीं सौदा पट जाए
और
तीस साल की उम्र में

इक्कीस वर्षीय आयुष्मती कुमारी क
परिणय सूत्र में बँधने के बाद

'द सेकंड सेक्स' के पन्नों में
लपेट कर रखने लगें अपनी चूड़ियाँ

तब क्‍या होगा, सिमोन ?
Close

JUST FOR YOU, SIMONE

1.

What have you done to me, Simone?
I was walking along
perfectly steady

on that path where

goddess-worthy
‘Purity’
awaited me

What you did was wrong . . .
you shoved me right in the middle of the path
to be ‘used’
such a dirty word

Tell me, Simone, why’d you do a thing like that?

2.

You
flow—
a word inside me

a thirst soars
I hear
a beautiful melody

If only I could write such a poem
after meeting you

All I’ve written instead
is the name ‘Simone’

all over the entire page
criss-cross

3.

I know you
You’ll start out talking about Derrida

Suddenly Virginia will flash through your mind
as you quote Bertrand Russell

You’ll explain Vatsayayan
in an argument about quotas for women

A full dozen cigarettes will burn to ash
on the way to my freedom

Despite loathing your kind
I adore you

I know
the meaning of equality
is not employment, quotas, or power
It’s getting in bed
my living body

I know

you want a few intimate moments
in order to make your mark on being ‘truly modern’

After some ‘elite’ and ‘intellectual’ sex
when I will think

I am free
truly modern too . . .
then

I know
you’ll think of one little word

loose

4.

Do you know, Simone,

I often think
no, not think: want

to send
a few copies of The Second Sex

not to the women
who are updating their blogs

in a hurry for a meeting
wrapped up in debate

not to ‘thinking women’

No, to those

who sit

waiting for a groom to be bought for them

They’ve already claimed
a few years running
to be nineteen

I want

someday, when they’re embroidering
crocheting
watching serials

to quietly hand over a copy

Since the pay hikes of the Sixth Pay Commission
boys have gotten expensive
Loans won’t cover the cost

Those women pray
sixteen Mondays

five Tuesdays seven Saturdays
without water without food

I want

them to read

instead of the tale of the Thursday Fast
you, your words

You know
I am afraid
I don’t know

when
they’ve spent
their time

cooking
sewing
embroidering flowers on saris

by then
at the age of thirty
if by chance the deal
has been sealed

bound in the marriage sutra
pretending to be a girl of twenty-one

if they begin to store their bangles
wrapped
in the pages of The Second Sex

what then, Simone?

JUST FOR YOU, SIMONE

1.

What have you done to me, Simone?
I was walking along
perfectly steady

on that path where

goddess-worthy
‘Purity’
awaited me

What you did was wrong . . .
you shoved me right in the middle of the path
to be ‘used’
such a dirty word

Tell me, Simone, why’d you do a thing like that?

2.

You
flow—
a word inside me

a thirst soars
I hear
a beautiful melody

If only I could write such a poem
after meeting you

All I’ve written instead
is the name ‘Simone’

all over the entire page
criss-cross

3.

I know you
You’ll start out talking about Derrida

Suddenly Virginia will flash through your mind
as you quote Bertrand Russell

You’ll explain Vatsayayan
in an argument about quotas for women

A full dozen cigarettes will burn to ash
on the way to my freedom

Despite loathing your kind
I adore you

I know
the meaning of equality
is not employment, quotas, or power
It’s getting in bed
my living body

I know

you want a few intimate moments
in order to make your mark on being ‘truly modern’

After some ‘elite’ and ‘intellectual’ sex
when I will think

I am free
truly modern too . . .
then

I know
you’ll think of one little word

loose

4.

Do you know, Simone,

I often think
no, not think: want

to send
a few copies of The Second Sex

not to the women
who are updating their blogs

in a hurry for a meeting
wrapped up in debate

not to ‘thinking women’

No, to those

who sit

waiting for a groom to be bought for them

They’ve already claimed
a few years running
to be nineteen

I want

someday, when they’re embroidering
crocheting
watching serials

to quietly hand over a copy

Since the pay hikes of the Sixth Pay Commission
boys have gotten expensive
Loans won’t cover the cost

Those women pray
sixteen Mondays

five Tuesdays seven Saturdays
without water without food

I want

them to read

instead of the tale of the Thursday Fast
you, your words

You know
I am afraid
I don’t know

when
they’ve spent
their time

cooking
sewing
embroidering flowers on saris

by then
at the age of thirty
if by chance the deal
has been sealed

bound in the marriage sutra
pretending to be a girl of twenty-one

if they begin to store their bangles
wrapped
in the pages of The Second Sex

what then, Simone?
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère