Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You and Your Team.

Learn More →

Nakshi Kanthas

Nakshi Kanthas Sabrina Islam I see women work on nakshi kanthas. I see my aunts work on embroid- eries. They start their work early in the morning. I join them in the after- noon. I walk by the ponds, see familiar faces dip into the shallow waters, women with their saris wrapped around their necks. Their children swim- ming around them. The green branches lie low. The dogs take careful steps as they stand guard, nails forcing their way into the muddy ground. The scent of summer in the air. Owls hidden from sight. The world, once more, turning its face away from winter. As I walk around the circular pond, the earth rotates, and I speed to the other side, and return again. I walk back again. The loose fans, their motors hanging, turn, and I find myself here. My eyes are young here, those childhood fears return. Uncer- tainty in the dry air. And without failing, the women rise from the ponds, their children swimming past them, climbing on land. A silver can rolls down the street, aluminum cuts through madness. Lovers return for the sake of lovers. I hold the large, cotton canvases for my aunts. My aunts http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

Nakshi Kanthas

Prairie Schooner , Volume 93 (3) – Dec 21, 2019

Loading next page...
 
/lp/university-of-nebraska-press/nakshi-kanthas-uTMCyraBbF
Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X

Abstract

Sabrina Islam I see women work on nakshi kanthas. I see my aunts work on embroid- eries. They start their work early in the morning. I join them in the after- noon. I walk by the ponds, see familiar faces dip into the shallow waters, women with their saris wrapped around their necks. Their children swim- ming around them. The green branches lie low. The dogs take careful steps as they stand guard, nails forcing their way into the muddy ground. The scent of summer in the air. Owls hidden from sight. The world, once more, turning its face away from winter. As I walk around the circular pond, the earth rotates, and I speed to the other side, and return again. I walk back again. The loose fans, their motors hanging, turn, and I find myself here. My eyes are young here, those childhood fears return. Uncer- tainty in the dry air. And without failing, the women rise from the ponds, their children swimming past them, climbing on land. A silver can rolls down the street, aluminum cuts through madness. Lovers return for the sake of lovers. I hold the large, cotton canvases for my aunts. My aunts

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Dec 21, 2019

There are no references for this article.