Hands Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

While waiting for the bus

Standing in the public gaze

You feel like a stage actor

Who doesn't know

What to do with her hands.

Being a girl

The fingers keep

Adjusting the half-sari

All the time

Conscious of prying eyes.

When wearing a salwar

It is the stole

You keep worrying.

If it is the unplaited hair

Made famous by female film ghosts

Keeping the ears free of it

Makes you feel less awkward

Till transport arrives.

The cell phone is a godsend

For the hand-conscious

You can clutch it to your ear

And engage all you want

In real or imaginary conversations.