Apr 14, 2013 Teaching and Learning

Banjara Bound
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 14th, 2013

The women walk, with soft sway of hip-bones
Copper and silver, bone and glass adding
Allure and weight to their step, mystery
On mystery, burden folded on burden.

And sometimes, they wear pots on their hips, and
Sometimes, they wear pots on their heads,
And sometimes, they wear babies on their hips,
And sometimes, they wear baubles on their necks.

And sometimes, they are beaten by husbands
And sometimes, they are abused by landlords
And sometimes, they play with babes in the dust
And sometimes, they ask you to share their food.

Sometimes they walk by, unaware of all
Intent on their destination, which they
Alone know, and where you may never go.
For where they come from is a land that’s theirs.

Not for the faint of heart, not for the weak,
Their lives are traced like lines of wind in dunes
Of sand — beautiful, but subject to the
Whims and fancies of an indifferent fate.

And they move like sighs of wind on the sand
Their sorrows not to be unpacked by those
Who might try, but never will understand —
How does one analyze those tangled threads?

Love is, of course, love; so is forgiveness,
Loss and despair are also understood.
But the moving and the endless walking
The pull of wandering, the lust for home

These tug and push, these discontent-makers,
These lure and beckon, these will-‘o-the-wisps,
Just one more sand-dune, just one more dust-storm
And then, we’ll come to rest, and we’ll be home.

Home is just another word, a starting,
A still-point, before the turning of the
Axis, the revolving around a sun
That’s brighter than any gold they could buy.

And so they move, these beautiful women
Subject to no calendar, answering
To no greater power, except for the
Slow, hypnotic sway of an earth that turns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: #Desert, #NaPoWriMo, #Women, Banjara women, Beauty, gypsies, Home, lure, mystery, wander-lust, Wandering