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Litter Of Applicasun To Eschool Principl

By Rochelle Potkar

Loving sir,

My son, Premnath, 6th B, is the star of my eyes.
W] 36675+e got invitation to Korepati show on Tv. Come bull, beat me.

His face is going down when his mother say he can’t come and wait for exams, or else he dance to her expressions. His mind is eating grass, a curtain fall over his mind. The matter has become tight in our homes. His mother is making food in steel tiffins. Our first flight.

If I win this lottery even with slowest finger first, I will make your mouth sweet. All five fingers in ghee. In our breaths come breaths. But please let my son waste exam for show. His mother made him hear ripe and raw. I make one my sweat and blood.

Saved money for new clothes by each inch of my hair. Rickshaw driver I see whole city – Bandra to Bhayandar. ‘Go back to Bihar’ they said. The city played over our lives. In our stomachs are always dancing rats. We will give answer now of bricks with stones. In the dark night four days of moon.

I sell milk first but now it is in cold boxes in shops. Milk to milk, water to water. The house cock is in the dal. Something’s black in the dal. Some part of my brain go lose. So three-wheelers. He will study hard once coming back. God promise. Double in night, four times in day.  We don’t let him cut our nose, water sprinkling over our hopes. Our respect shouldn’t be removed or get lost in the mud.

His mother will eat him alive. We will color him in our own colors or the Ganga will flow in U-turn, and I will make the donkey my father.

Once we win the karoad – one pomegranate, hundreds sick. For the neighbors – may worms fall into their mouths. Staying in the pond and fighting with crocodiles. Going to sea and returning thirsty. But my heart first is becoming a balloon.

Hope your school has night Inglish eschool for wibe-wa and me. This life is hard. A milky cow’s kick we have to bear. Brinjal on my plate. This hand give, that hand take. On each grain is written the eater’s name. Luck is a guest only for four-five days.

Thank you, sir, for your parmissun.

Your loving,

Shanku Ram Murari.

Painting: Art Zolo

Rochelle Potkar
is Fictionist, Poet, Critic, Curator, Editor, Translator, Screenwriter and more. She is the author of Four Degrees of Separation and Paper Asylum, Bombay Hangovers, and co-author of the recent book of poetry translations The Coordinates of Us/सर्व अंशांतून आपण. Read more of her poetry at


For more stories, read Café Dissensus Everyday, the blog of Café Dissensus Magazine.

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