Ananya Dutta Gupta
Mental haikya?
Mens, mensa,
Mensuration,
Measure,
Meagre,
Me.
Do you see it?
It’s a pocket.
No, a wallet.
Deep, bottomless,
Mariana Trench, a proper one.
A hat, you wear it,
An ass’s head
Like Nick Bottom.
You put your life into it.
All those unresolved issues
All those overwhelming questions.
All the could-have-beens,
The should-not-have-beens
A library of embarrassments,
A bookshop of hearts,
A cavern of lifeforce
But where do you put it?
It, i.e., Not Id. Not ID.
It, in which you put all in.
Where does it go home
To rest? To sleep it off?
Left breast?
Right breast?
Aureole, ventricle
Frontal? Occipital? Cranial?
Can you put a finger on it?
Can you take the mouse to it?
Can you weigh it on a scale?
Can you hold it in your palm?
Is it like the amniotic sac?
A sack, yes. That you carry
On your back
It has your back.
It has your front.
Your top.
Your bottom.
Your middle
And both sides.
It’s me.
It’s you.
It is.