The Laundry

(There is no episode of the serial this week. As an apology I offer you a recently written poem that will perhaps give you some idea of the whirlwind that is my life.)


The Laundry

The perfect lines for a poem
Around my head do run
I can’t stop to write them down, you see,
The laundry has to be done

The Defence of the Housewife

"Enough!" I heard her scream in desperate haste,
"I shall not let you lay the whole house to waste!
You have dismembered my dryer and the washer too,
My kitchen floor now resembles a railway loo;
You have used up entirely my last bit of patience,
And the penultimate drop of my coconut oil rations.
In addition your tone seeks to disparage
The experience I have, a woman twice your age!
Not content with ruining my kitchen plugpoints you
Dare to attempt those of other rooms too?"

"Thus far and no farther shall you venture my boy,
My home is not for Godrej servicemen to destroy!"

This poem was written in commemoration of my mother's heroic attempts to save our home in Chennai from the entirely destructive hands of the Godrej serviceman who came to repair our washing-machine. Our place survived, with a somewhat battle-scarred electrical wiring, but I'm afraid the washing machine didn't make it. We have a Haier one now.

Blanky

O Vicky’s very comfortable
Like your cosy old blanky
As familiar and reassuring
As his tebilkavar hanky

And just like a blanky,
He’s good to take to bed
Where he can show a girl a good time
-- Just let him have his head!

Sunayana Roy
Midnight
14th June 2004