I had to enter the forest to find you, Moumita.
I had to leave the streets where men prey on us. I am ugly but I have these breasts, you see.
I don’t have breasts but I have this skin, you see.
I cover my skin from head to toe but I have this stare, you see.
I don’t stare but I have seven decades on me, you see.
I am 12 but I have this un-policed gait, you see.
I have eyes, teeth, feet, nose, mouth, hair, ears. I have nails, you see.
There is nothing you could have done, Moumita. I want you to know you lived bravely till the last second. Because when did being scared ever save us? There’s nothing we could have done for you either, Moumita.
And so I entered the forest to find you. I sang loudly so that you would hear me on the tops of trees, where they kiss and weave into each other. I looked up at the sky and then I looked at the wet moss below. You were everywhere and nowhere all at once. I think you were at peace. I think you were with me, your parents and everyone who loved, cried & raged for you, all at once.
The grace of god by which it was not-me, brings no comfort today, Moumita. Because, here in this forest as we walk together, you whisper into my heart that you actually are me. You are me in this forest. I was you in that seminar room.
"How could you not be", you whisper from the highest branches of the trees I pass, "We are all together in this aloneness now, Purnima. I will never not be a part of you...don’t you know what my name means? Moumita - sweet friend.
