raat ki raani

by Eman Farhaan

home –

cloudy, three second memories of warm walls

and warmer touch. 

Before bed mama would emerge from the bathroom in a mist of sweet,

Foggy sharp magenta-orange and dusty rose, my little head would spin

I would let the fumes kiss me, mama’s arms shroud me,

 Lowered into red sleep.

nanos house – 

Hazy licks of memory, nothing more, somehow enough –

I wish I’d held on to her hand longer though.

Karachi air is lazy and rancid, 

But in her garden it pierced my nose with sweet, sharp needles

From her raat ki raani bush.

Meri pyaari nano ma, meri pyaari, pyaari nano ma,

Mama would buy gajras for you on our way to your house,

to see them rest on your wrist as we held your hand, 

maybe even a faint smile on your face

because that was all we could do till the hospital.

The love I have for you fills my body up with sugar and motia,

In my blood, in my brain,

It makes my teeth ache. 

Outside – 

Fuzzy snippets of empty celebration, empty gazes,

Our done up faces twisting inside 

Because we spent too long looking at ourselves in the mirror-

now I think my makeup isn’t enough, and this sharara doesn’t look okay, 

You lend me your lipstick.

We stay next to each other, all of us,

Under the mocking stink of roses, motia trampled on bright yellow fabric,

Men and their shoes, their stares, peeks into the bride’s room

Where we touch up our cheeks and spray

Sharp crimson to mask the bitterness,

 Defeat,

Knowing we’ll be back here soon.

Bathrooms and locked rooms –

We are a sweet mess of tangled perfumed curls and hands drinking in,

She makes me glow pink, searing hot guava flesh –

And I’d let her sink her teeth into me and spit the seeds out gently.

Gajras on our wrists sweetly follow our hands as they wander

Up and down, on perfumed arms touched by the tip of her nose and

I think this was one of the few moments my body didn’t turn on itself,

Didn’t put the spoon down when dessert was lovingly served. 

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visual by Taimur Ali Khan.