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Maa doesn’t talk about numbers
She says I’m 17 monsoons old
She hands me Shakespeare’s ironies when I ask her to teach me arithmetic
She has always made me learn histories and never heard me reciting tables
She says my notebook covered with multiplications and subtractions reminds her of Mihir,
Mihir who lived three lanes away
Mihir, whose home had a mango tree in its backyard
And Mihir who killed himself just before his marriage
Maa doesn’t know the meaning of my name
She says she named me the day baba left us
My name reminds her of baba’s breathy voice telling her he’s never wanted a girl child
and sweater smelling of salt and dahlias
Maa tells me about Noctifer the evening star and tells me it’s millions of summers away
And I drown in constellations in my mind
Maa says she would never let me marry someone like baba
While I hide my first poem in the plaits of my skirt
Maa hates numbers
I know
I’m in a world that doesn’t make sense maa
And I don’t know where to go when I can’t calculate the amount of guilt and sorrow I will endure
I love her maa and she’s not like baba,
They say Fall in love so you can live
But now when I am in love
They are planting thorns outside my window
They are waylaying with swords hidden under their sleeves
We used to venture amidst stars
Now we just sleep in dirt worrying we won’t get peace in the roads we turned towards our destruction
While looking for a place to stay we cave across melting rocks
Maa,
I am scared and I don’t need numbers maa
Just save me
Tell them you are by my side and I don’t need to worry
Tell them you love me and her equally, Maa
You taught me to write about star crossed lovers
But I love her you see,
I lover her Maa and she’s not like baba