Anju Kishore

Tradition

Amma’s wedding madisar sari was red. So is mine. A month before my wedding, she had spent hours looking for a particular red among the shades of coral, tomato, and chili that were laid out before her. The customary red she wanted seemed to be no more in trend. Red is red, what’s the big deal, I had whined. I was down to my last sip of bottled water in the Chennai summer. 

Perhaps at the time, my youth was too full of pink to understand red. I was yet to feel the pain of blood and the ache of its ties. I had not walked the fire that comes with the vermilion on a woman’s forehead. So what would I know about gratitude for the quiet of the sky’s crimson.

Now I recognise the arakku that mother was looking for. A power, its edges charred to wisdom by life. A shade of red that only semantically translates to maroon. 

patting down
my sari's pleats
a truth
i press within them
another I drape around me

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About the Author

Formerly a finance professional, Anju Kishore is a Pushcart Prize nominee, a published poet, and an award-winning editor of numerous free-verse anthologies. Her book of poems inspired by the Syrian civil war, …and I Stop to Listen (AuthorsPress, 2018), was well received. Her poems are part of many anthologies and journals.

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