love in the time of menopause
she is forty-something and questing
middleclass Indian housewife
grounded by her moorings
nothing enamouring about that
her effusive breasts haven’t sagged
a lurking tautness is visible
to the discerning or desirous
long black hair with a truant white
underarms ungainly shaven
not a drop-dead gorgeous sight
got married at eighteen
and still looking for love
that funny little thing called love
manna for desperate housewives
poison for philandering husbands
hunting for her safari-clad prince
on the internet the great equaliser
in the loveless phantasmagoria
her potbellied vestigial husband
has reconciled we don’t know
to her ferocity at night he paws her
chews at her restless nipples
as she continues her search
occupational hazard of finding love
in the time of menopause
she knows men are tempted by sex
she will ensnare them to her lair
and make them rediscover love
such requited and soul quenching love
that can tame even wild horses
so she sports a kitschy night gown
frilly at the end fluffy at the boobs
does away with her bra and panty
and wears modesty in her longing
it’s the only time of the day
she experiences freedom
while her pursuit is prosaic
there’s poetry in her words
the dark cages of her soul
light up when she tells her story
she could do anything for this man
she grew up idolising
a man who loves for love’s sake
a man with a perfect repose
in her mind’s amber eye
are you the one she asks?
(
30 July 2006 )
