Walking the white flag over the water

May  2009:  Nanthikadal Lagoon:   An old child of Indian Ocean.

Yesterday, we made our safe zone by hanging saris around us. Being blind to the outside is a moment of secure feeling. Today, we have to | walk straight | and stand still when needed. Is it true that crows fly straight?

The bridge is lower than before. Under are people, floating like dead. The war has made crows into vultures. A brown calf circles around the mother. Shelling is not a lullaby…

This water is murky. Smell of the air is unbearable even for an ape like me. Living’s breath and dead’s subsiding warmth have made water unreal. Can the word surplus be an adjective for people? If we are dumped to the water, we will walk on it. We are weightless.

Death is nothing, but the wounds… We need somebody who is not wounded. Making  a white flag is not  that   difficult | one out of our own flesh | under the skin, flesh must be paled into white now.


© Subhadra Jayasundara