The Nizam’s Wives

Four girls in brocade, tussar
and stiff smiles, the slow stranglehold
of gold on their hands, necks, faces.

They were the children who aged early.

Were they friends? Did they
share their fractured power
while swapping dolls, diamonds
and nights? Or were their eyes
darting and vicious over the kheer?
Did they avoid the bath at certain times?

Perhaps, three of them colluded
against the fourth, leaving
frogs on her bed,
peas under her mattress,
spit in her tea.

We can’t know. In this photograph,
they’re just four girls
released from purdah,
frightened and unblinking
into the cameraman’s flash.

***

Originally published at Kritya.