top of page

The Conjuress

They say you all have magic power “Mothers, they are of divine breed, They spend every day and every hour To see that we get everything we need.”

They write poems, songs and plays On your greatness, your sacrifice They use words like goodness and grace They keep you in a beautiful edifice Yes, Mothers, you may conjure happiness From a bowl of misery, poverty and leftovers But has anyone ever looked for the stress You keep locked in, except that it hovers Like a halo, somewhere below your eyes They call it a dark circle, blame your age They offer you free menopause advice And fail to feel the suppressed rage Photo by Mohamed Nohassi / Unsplash

You conjured unwittingly, from floating words of praise From years of nothingness, from that empty clay pan Which sometimes had just a handful of rice, And sometimes, not a morsel, no, not one You always smiled and said “oh, I had my food”. “Me-time”, a phrase you never knew. Because anything else would be considered rude You did everything expected of you Now is the time for you, O conjuress You play your favourite song and start a dance Your open your closet and bring out your dress For tomorrow, who knows, won’t give you second chance...

About the Author

Sunandita Dasgupta is a veteran journalist and government servant who loves exploring forgotten forts and penning down the myriad shades of life.

Even though she calls herself ordi-naari, her extraordinary perspective makes reading about the mundane, a sheer joy.

Braving Parkinson's disease, she writes often with ample dose of humour about living with it in an attempt to raise awareness. Her grit and passion for life is contagious.

39 views0 comments


bottom of page