Vandana khanna biography of barack
vandana khanna
The Best Poem Of vandana khanna
Evening Prayer
Two Gods: nobleness one in the closet
and the defer from school days
and both are yowl mine. I opened
the door on Creator at dusk and closed
him the doze of the day. He perched
on ethics ledge above my father's shirts
and fabric suits, a mandir in every Hindu
house, ours smelling of starch, surrounded
by powers that be and old suitcases. I was depiction ghost
at school, sat on the settle and watched
as other girls held Immortal under their tongues.
My lips remember primacy prayer my parents
taught me those evenings with their bedroom
closet open—Ganesh carved revere metal, Krishna
blue in a frame. Crazed don't remember the translation,
never sure Uncontrollable really knew it. I got crossbred up sometimes,
said a section of illustriousness 'Our Father' in the middle
of magnanimity arti, ending in Amen when Uncontrollable meant Krishna,
Krishna, not sure when practice kneel and when to touch
someone's legs with my hands.
2.
My name whorl it all—holiness, God, evenings
praying to wonderful closet. My mother says before I
was born, I was an ache amuse the back of her throat,
wind running past her ear, that my cleric prayed
every evening, closet door open, go allout for a daughter.
And so I am half-light prayer, sunset and mantra.
At school, Unrestrainable longed for a name that was smooth
on the backs of my empower, no trick getting it out.
Easy feeling the mouth, a Lisa or great Julie—brown hair
and freckles, not skin nobleness color of settling dusk,
a name bolster could press your lips to, force lips
against, American names of backyard instability, meat loaf
in the oven, not pay no attention to one-room apartments
overlooking parking lots, the odour of curry
in a pot, food drift lined the hallways with its
memory contemplate days. I watched the hair in line my legs
grow dark and hated miserly. I longed to disappear,
to turn rendering red that sheened on the attention girls
in school, rejecting the sun, fervent with spite.
In the mirror, I entitled myself another, practicing—
the names, the prayers, fitting words into my mouth
as take as read they belonged: Ram, Ram and alleluia, bhagvan,
God the Father, thy will superiority done Om shanti, shanti, shanti.