I have been
led to believe
that God resides in
temples and mosques,
that they live in
monasteries and gurudwaras.
God was the personification of hope,
a perfect childhood and hearty laughter,
to me God was sunset lies and bottled remorse.
Allah resides in
8-year-old Imran of Afghanistan
as he runs free
through the vast
paddy fields of his village,
which now serves as
a burial ground
for his family’s ashes.
Imran questions me,
with a quiver in his voice,
“was love meant to be terrorized and
if there was a difference in the sneakers that his Hindu friend
wore and the chappals that adorned his feet?”
Christ lives in
15-year-old Jennifer
who lies awake in her bed,
remembering the relief she felt in his goodbye,
while the tears trickled
down from her eyes
as she remembers
being overpowered by
her uncle’s huge frame
while she struggled
to run away.
Jennifer looks at herself in the mirror,
all she finds is the looking at the forlorn image
of the girl who was never the heroine
and all she needed to a grand funeral
of that girl was chlorine of memories.
Durga inhabits
11-year-old Reema’s body
as she is shackled
to the dungeons
and tied to the
iron bound chains of patriarchy,
Reema sits on the bed
of her newlywed husband,
wondering whether new beginnings were
more of endings that didn’t get a closure
her husband lifts her veil and
while she tries hard to remember
the comprehensive guide on how to be a woman.
god dwells in Akash and Noor’s
teary eyed hastened good-byes
while her feet are covered
with the mud of Karachi
and his shirt is bought from karol bagh,
innocent hearts broken
with the dagger of hatred,
we are god’s favorite tragedy
all leftovers
of yesterday’s stale pieces
of hostility.
where does
God truly live?
is it in the corrupt hearts
of those who claim to better
the world that echoes
with the screams
of bloodthirsty housewives
and cries of love that feels like a broken mirror?
does God live in the fists of men
who reek of the misogyny
coursing through their blood
or in the (my favorite kind of heartbreak) heart melting smile
of the girl who
lives opposite,
She still believes
we are the creator’s best creations.
In the end God to me
is constant
because God to me
is only mortal.
Akshita Chaudhuri
Akshita is a 16 year old high school student from Kolkata. More often than not, you’ll find her obsessing over poetry books, Sufi music and a cup of coffee. She considers herself to be the first of her kind and believes revolution is her synonym. You can find her work on her Instagram handle _shaerha_
