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Damini Kulkarni
Winter 2017 * Obituary (after Varsha Killawala) the soft scent of her cheek against mine the wafting sight of her latest culinary experiment tickling the inside of my eyes the syrupy taste of her enthusiasm touching off frissions of glee on my tongue the jasmine sweet smell of her steady no-nonsense friendship the careless nuzzle of her smile all of her is confusing my senses trapping me in sinuous threads with patterns echoing inside my ears like a mother’s instruction repetitive and ceaseless and aggravated and harried but choked with love. * Her Attic The attic is crowded. And it is often unkempt. Things have been shoved into it higgledy piggledy till it wants to groan at the abuse and the neglect. Every corner is complete With an object That does not belong Anywhere. All that can rust is rusted to a crisp brown till crusts of that color peel off. She opens her attic on a whim to give it her usual absent glance before beginning the Daily Dance of Abidance. Today, the glance is a present stare. The clutter cuts a neat hole into her carefully surrendered life. Everything she loans is dustless, shiny, useless Everything she borrows unused, dismally bare Everything she owned, beyond repair, dense with weariness, waiting to be released from past tense. So inside her attic She grieves. She begins to clean the cobwebs away. And if she doesn't get lost in each item she retrieves, there will be progress. You must tell her though, that cobwebs can be dusted and dust can be removed But it takes longer to exterminate the spiders. * |
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Damini has a Master’s degree in Communication and Journalism and her research activity mainly revolves around film theory, feminist politics and communication technology. She has designed and conducted gender sensitization workshops which focused on making 14-16 year olds capable of apprehending different forms of stereotypical gender portrayals in the media. She works as a news curator.
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