The Isis - Est. 1892 Est. 1892
  • About
  • All Posts
    • Articles
    • Fiction
    • Media
    • Music
  • Investigations
  • Podcasts
  • Past Magazines
  • Submissions
By Devi Sastry January 4, 2021

The Lakebed

In a riverless city, the promise of water is enough.

 

My mother and I pin our hopes

to each monsoon, and evenings in June

that stroll the circumference

of our bayou-to-be.

 

Starved of fish, the empty lake

harbours cattle, gangs of dogs

and cricket games —

we see snatches of batsmen through the fence

too far to catch anything

but glances.

 

On our walks, the lack of water

loosens my lips: I ask how long,

and who’s that, and what’s this cluster in the fence?

 

My mother answers: maybe two more years

and Mr. Kumar, his daughter was in your class

and stops to examine the clump of web and air —

almost a star, A spider’s nest, she says, a nebula

of hidden eggs at the bend in the path.

 

In the chinks of chain links, a home has grown.

 

Months later, they remain unchanged:

the lakebed, the spider’s nest,

and my mother:

but for an inch of rain, but for new dust

but for a haircut, and another half-trip

around the sun. ■

 

Words by Devi Sastry. Art by Tate Tsang.

Share on

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Google +
  • LinkedIn
  • Email

You may also like

A sketch of parts of armour connected with red strings with roses, against a dark pink background.

My Mother, After

Black, yellow, and white dots decreasing in size from left to right, against a cream background.

Pest Control

Two drawings of human faces (one red and one blue) against a beige background, and some colourful lines.

Two women

Search All Posts

© OSPL. All rights reserved.
Back to top