A state of no progress

Poetry, Nov '13
By Shompa Datta

You must take this city bus to school to be on time

But a crowd of riders bulge out at the doors

So, you push and push till it swallows you and your fears

            No personal space here!

Over pot-holes and narrow corners

Everyone rides together, companions

In sweat and smell and bodies tiered

            No comfortable journey here!

But, your schoolgirl dreams shatter –

A hand creeps up and down your thigh

The heavy-breathing body rubs rhythmically undeterred

            No compunction here!

So, you carry a pin to warn away molesting hands

Who blame the buses and the swaying crowds

For men will be men in close quarters, it appears

            No safe space here!

After generations of unschooled instinct excused

Gang-rapes on buses become repeated breaking news

Live women are easy game, this society holds,

Though in parras or hoods goddesses are revered

            No, no progress here!

Shompa Datta writes to give voice to issues and experiences that influence her at home and abroad. Her poems have been published in LimeStone Dust Poetry, Desilicious and Scripts. As a Kolkata lover, she hopes that the city will regain its place as a trailblazer Indian city; as a US resident, she hopes for civil rights for all, irrespective of gender, class, race and sexual orientation.
She earns a living as an Associate Professor of English at Stillman College, Tuscaloosa, Alabama and lives in the same city with her partner.