THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

I’m still in contact with my rapist.

He’s a cousin, like many others.

I have to bend down in a namaste whenever I see him.

He’s 40, I’m 23. He works for a pharmaceutical.

He sends me medicinal soaps.

My mother asks me to WhatsApp him a

“Thank You”.

I wonder if he fills them with his cum

for they release not a lather but a stinky goo

whenever I rub them on my skin.

I use a different soap for my vagina.

The one that is used to clean ziddi daag.

He’s a father of a son wished for and a divorcee.

His mother didn’t let his wife wear salwar kameez.

His mother didn’t let his wife turn on the fan.

His wife has filed a case for dowry.

I go to my Bua’s place after every Diwali

Even though November is my favourite month.

My father owes her 2000 rupees for Bhai Dooj.

My cousin owes me 500.

Every time I race the Kumkum up his forehead,

he looks for memories in my eyes.

As if,

to confirm if he can do it again.