One wife please, soft and creamy; flesh of tender coconut,
Succulent mango-breasts and luscious black hair scented with temptation;
A tongue dripping with syrupiness;
Recitals only of housework, or unending affection.
A mother to my children, teaching them love and family values.
A carer of my mother and father and sister and brother, uncles, aunts and grand-parents.
Silent and reverent of me and my time and space,
Magically healing all my lusts and impairments…
When I come home, milky coffee should be set on the table
Beside my newspaper and plate of steaming chilly bhajji.
Dinner is always at nine o’clock and I only eat idly or dosai
With mint or tomato chutney.
But sir, I believe we are all out of stock!
‘Creamy’—yes I know one fleshy slut-cum-singer just down the block.
‘Family values’ I’ll recommend one guru, my Good Sir.
But what you really need is a full-time maid or perhaps a golden retriever,
To lap and lick and obediently wag its tail
Or march in daily, armed with soap solution, broom and pail.
Nurses and Nannies are found aplenty—all skilled and rather spruce—
Or— forgive me sir, I beg your pardon—were you looking for a masseuse?
But a ‘live-in help-and-whore’ package is already several thousand per day;
So how much exactly sir would you be willing to pay?
Indian Literature and Poetry | Read the works of Carolyn Christina Singh on Indian Review. Carolyn writes about the quirks of our culture.