Memories of Walking Barefoot
Summers in my hometown are sweltering hot
Last of the palash flowers dry out
Hell moves closer to the blistering ground
Wheat shimmers like gold in fields
We sit in the constant hum of the air cooler
The smell of khus carries everywhere
My sister and I lost in videogames and cards
My grandmother makes some bel sherbet
There is space to be eclectic in this routine
Time has melted, sleep tastes sweeter
There is a lightness in none of us realizing
We will get a handful of summers together
My sister keeps losing her flip flops and
She keeps stealing mine - the ground
Crackles under our feet and I think
Of devotees who walk on embers
Mother scolds us for running without shoes
your feet will get corns she says
We ignore her and continue to chase each other
Screaming threats, hurling curses with love
Two decades later our summers have stretched across
thousands of kilometers in global warming
She screams at her boys while she tells me of
her plans for summer break over the phone
I unconsciously scratch the corn on my foot
Sitting in the silent vacuum of my air conditioned room.
A Takeoff on a Passing Remark
Late evening one summer my mother
tells me I should have children
Warm breeze hints a downpour
and I shudder at the thought
The sky is turning lilac and its shades
of marigold match mamma’s sari
I listen to the hum of generators
roaring a few houses away
I daydream of being a mom
to a baby with wicked curls
Ma says motherhood is a depth
of emotions never experienced before
I know the one she is feeling
right now - it’s helplessness
She takes her horse to the river
and she waits
I’ll stay by your side, she assures
clutching her bad knee to sit down
Our roles reverse and I lose count
of the parts I feature in these days
Electricity flashes, a jolt shakes
the ground beneath
We hold hands through the echoes
Counting seconds under our breath
Where there’s light
there’s thunder.
In The Country of Resurrection
The spider plant you asked me to take care of, died.
It was my mistake--I ignored it far too long.
My eyes hypnotized by shiny screen
Fell blind to its vermillion leaves,
The green turned pale and shrunk at the edges,
Embarrassed living in such gross neglect.
I overcompensated and gave it a bath
(I know you said it must be watered once a day).
You asked me to move if it gets droopy,
So I drove around till it was dark again.
On remorseful return I met a carcass,
Parched in heat, shocked by betrayal
Dangling in disappointment I saw
hope spiraling towards gravity
Riding on the remains of a dying plant.
A native of tropical West Africa
slaughtered with apathy in my window.
It left a baby spider plant behind
It protrudes with aspirations
I believe in
I’m nurturing the offshoots
till you return.
And I promise
by the time you’re back;
we both
would have grown.
Shubhi Dixit is a spoken-word poet based in Pune, currently living with her two cats. Her work explores themes of depression, aging, capitalism, relationships, and often tells vivid, heartfelt stories through poetry. She has performed at platforms like TEDx IISER Pune and Airplane Poetry as a featured poet and won the Pune Poetry Slam by Bullock Cart Poetry in 2020.