Poetess Kamala Das Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

People generally take up Kamala Das and her poetry
Writing Ph.D. theses,
Promoting it beyond
And overpraise her slender works
Heaping praises,
Showering and showering upon,
Adding adjectives and superlatives.

Call her a feminist, a confessional,
Autobiographical,
Down to earth and realities,
One of man-woman relationship,
Full of the scent of blood.

But none has come to understand her,
She is physical, bodily and sexual,
One who is hysteric,
Mad and maniac after sex,
A Rajnishite with a rudraksha rosary,
A bhogavadi.

The summer which she describes
Is the summer of the body,
The fire and heat of it,
Full of sexual lust and dreams,
Unfulfilled carnal desires
And seeking satisfaction for it.

To read her is to delve deep in
Love, sex and dreams,
Drawing and deriving from the unconscious,
An abnormal babbling,
Gone into hysterics,
Applying the things of the dark reservoir.

A poetess of Lawrentine give and take, love and hate theme,
Attraction and repulsion story,
Dissatisfaction in love seeking satisfaction,
She draws from Sylvia Plath the confessional elements,
Homosexuality and lesbianism
And eunuch dancing.

We often hear the things of Kamala
And she keeps criticizing her husband,
A feminist wife trying to be a politician
And chiding her henpecked hubby without rhyme or reason,
What does her husband say to,
Have we ever tried to hear it?
.
A colourful lady is she, painted and dented
And without moral and character
And loose and flippant,
A dream burner, putting on fire,
Bbut spiritually sick.