An Unknown Girl
In the evening bazaar studded with neon an unknown girl
is hennaing* my hand.
She squeezes a wet brown line from a nozzle.
She is icing my hand, which she steadies with hers
on her satin-peach knee.
In the evening bazaar
for a few rupees an unknown girl
is hennaing my hand.
As a little air catches
15 my shadow-stitched kameez*
a peacock spreads its lines across my palm.
Colours leave the street float up in balloons.
20 Dummies in shop-fronts
tilt and stare
with their Western perms.
Banners for Miss India 1993, for curtain cloth
25 and sofa cloth
canopy me.
I have new brown veins.
In the evening bazaar\ very deftly
30 an unknown girl
is hennaing my hand.
I am clinging to these firm peacock lines like people who cling
35 to the sides of a train.
Now the furious streets are hushed.
I’ll scrape off the dry brown lines
40 before I sleep,
reveal soft as a snail trail the amber bird beneath.
It will fade in a week.
When India appears and reappears
45 I’ll lean across a country
with my hands outstretched
longing for the unknown girl in the neon bazaar.
Moniza Alvi
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An Unknown Girl
In the evening bazaar studded with neon an unknown girl
is hennaing* my hand.
She squeezes a wet brown line from a nozzle.
She is icing my hand, which she steadies with hers
on her satin-peach knee.
In the evening bazaar
for a few rupees an unknown girl
is hennaing my hand.
As a little air catches
15 my shadow-stitched kameez*
a peacock spreads its lines across my palm.
Colours leave the street float up in balloons.
20 Dummies in shop-fronts
tilt and stare
with their Western perms.
Banners for Miss India 1993, for curtain cloth
25 and sofa cloth
canopy me.
I have new brown...