Here’s a powerful poem by Smita, a personal prayer in defiance.

Dear God,
Idol of stone,
Shaped like a phallus.
And then, more often than not,                             
A priest discovers you embossed
On a rock; female, eight-armed,
Armed with trident, sword,
Mace, chakra, bow,
Seated on your tiger-throne.
And there, up on a hill,
Or beside a lake,
Someone builds for you,
Your home . . .
You lie through your teeth.
You never fulfill promises.
You don’t take calls,
Nor answer letters or e-mail.
I’ve learned to trust in
Science and logic,
Not you.
Once, when I believed                                                          
Injustice was done,
I went up a million stairs
To your temple
Of the trillion bells
And, amongst a zillion others,
Tied with a sacred thread,
To the temple arch,
My petition of fears and tears.
You did not right the wrong.
Fed up, I realised,
It was I, who had to be strong,
Never expect anything nor depend on you.
It doesn’t matter anymore
Whether you’re fact or
A figment of the imagination.
Just that, whenever,
Like Hanuman  
I cleave open my chest,
Reach out for my heart,
I see on its template
The imprint
Of your face...                                                                                 

Picture design Anumita Roy, Different Truths

Smita Agarwal

Smita Agarwal is a poet-critic and the author of Wish-granting Words, Poems, Mofussil Notebook and Marginalized: Indian Poetry in English. She has won awards from the British Council and The Poetry Society, India. She has been a writer in Residence at the universities of Stirling, and Kent. She is Professor of English and Director, Centre for Women’s Studies, Allahabad University, and a professional singer with samples of her songs available on You Tube and SoundCloud.