The Quirky Indian
Published in

The Quirky Indian

The Necklace of Dirty Legs

While baking my heart
with your bundled warmth,
pouring you into
the willing contours of my body
and smelling your night’s mouth
deliciously foul,
I began consisting of you
and let fatherhood
seep in slowly
like a summer evening’s smell.

When I kissed your knuckle’s folds,
sipped your cold toes,
tossed promises into the fire of your cries
or turned ugly
to earn your expensive smiles,
I made you into a tiny bit of myself,
a limb,
inseparably unattached,
to the craving, expansionist borders
of my body.

While the world was busy
celebrating the mothers
I made you my crown,
my trophy,
putting together the pearls
of your laughter,
jewels of your smiles,
wearing the necklace of your dirty legs
to let you pluck the sky
from small, dream-bloated shoulders.

Little girl,
you brought me glories far bigger
when you burrowed through me,
sniffed my daylong body
and said,
‘Daddy, I love that smell!’
or plunged into me
every time the world troubled you
hugging me, wailing,
as if the man
who fixed small toys
also mended small hearts.

Now everyday that I spread you
on my chest
and hold you close enough
to smell as myself
or let you dry from my arms
dripping with laugher,
how I wish I had
the secret codes,
the Book of Magic
to not let you grow out
of the valley of my lap
or the ring of my arms.

But sweetheart
I know, one day you will have grown
stealthily, in front of my eyes,
when I am tired shaking off
the denied dusts of time,
when your world will have grown
and mine shrunk
and you soar like a bird
that I’ve always dreamt of.
When your eyelids
won’t need my stories
and my legs aren’t your bed
I will ask for just one more day
for you to rebelieve
in the old, innocent lie
that your daddy is the strongest
and is never afraid.

--

--

Compelling, and very Indian experiences from the large, diverse country, that will probably take a couple of births to fully comprehend. We publish stories that are high in quality, probably has a spattering of humour and more importantly, uniquely, deeply Indian.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Ash

Ash

Tech Enthusiast, Writer, University Professor, Photographer and Traveller. Paradoxically straddling Technology and Literature. Personal Blog: www.gogoodness.com