Phoenix
Kamala, you rise from your ashes
As Kamala Das
You are born again
As Kamala Surayya
You have left your body
Your spirit reaches out in love.
As Kamala Das
You are born again
As Kamala Surayya
You have left your body
Your spirit reaches out in love.
You merged with the coolness of the leaves
Protected by an ancestral home
Under the wings of knitted relationships
Submerged in readings of the beauty of love
Wide eyed you gazed with a throbbing heart
You flowered and flitted from bush to tree.
Protected by an ancestral home
Under the wings of knitted relationships
Submerged in readings of the beauty of love
Wide eyed you gazed with a throbbing heart
You flowered and flitted from bush to tree.
Words sprouted as never ending leaves
From your body and the depth of your being
Languages flowed from the fireball within
You became Madhavikutty, Kamala Das
Calcutta made you, away from home
You sang of the sweltering summer in the city.
From your body and the depth of your being
Languages flowed from the fireball within
You became Madhavikutty, Kamala Das
Calcutta made you, away from home
You sang of the sweltering summer in the city.
My Story was your story
You sold your body to mystify
To stir the strings of passion
Which you could not deny
Clutched in the grip of conformity
Living life as half- dead.
You sold your body to mystify
To stir the strings of passion
Which you could not deny
Clutched in the grip of conformity
Living life as half- dead.
Loved and curled up at his feet
Writing of wild thoughts and men
And the lustful overtures on body
You loved the love of your grandmother
The neermathalam tree that flowered
Wafting the fragrance of selfless love.
Writing of wild thoughts and men
And the lustful overtures on body
You loved the love of your grandmother
The neermathalam tree that flowered
Wafting the fragrance of selfless love.
Your quivering voice sang of violence
Wrung in the fire of wild passions
You wept for the harlots and the child
You dared to speak of social taboos
You were both the voice and the victim
Of your dark tresses in a world of hierarchies.
Wrung in the fire of wild passions
You wept for the harlots and the child
You dared to speak of social taboos
You were both the voice and the victim
Of your dark tresses in a world of hierarchies.
You sought relief in a hijab, O Surayya
Wrapped in the melody of Quranic verses
You felt the warmth of spiritual love
Your soul tilled the desert of your being
Your heart bled from your trespasses
You yearned for a slumber of peace
In the eternal Kingdom of Love.
Wrapped in the melody of Quranic verses
You felt the warmth of spiritual love
Your soul tilled the desert of your being
Your heart bled from your trespasses
You yearned for a slumber of peace
In the eternal Kingdom of Love.
—Jameela Begum