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Personal Note:

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Poem

The Hindu God, Kali, has two faces.
She is life and death, beauty and ugliness, 
motherliness and destructiveness.

She was my muse.
She bought me helicopter rides high over the city.

We ate elaborate meals with guests.
At regular meals we had starch soup and things made in one pot.
 
She boiled noodles, 
and after they boiled, 
she took out the noodles and we drank the soup.

She boasted independence,
but called mother every day.
She was a psychologist
And I shrunk from her words.

She made her own clothes and was quick with a needle.
She loved to garden and play in the dirt, alone.

She and her chubby and large breasted friend, Shri Lakshmi ,
laughed at my brown, velour, sweat suit. 

I was her mate. 
I was her pet.
I did the heavy lifting, 
walked the dog
and took my turn shopping.

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