Camphor Bhavya Malhotra my grandma uses camphor to start her ritual of praying to greet the goddesses revered by every thing living come diwali my sister and I are loved and prayed to: because we are saraswati and lakshmi; wealth and wisdom on other days her ripped jeans tears the family apart and my blouse too deep shows the cleavage of my own, and of society, and then, agony awaits the streets while guilt enjoys the view as if on a retreat. the same camphor lights a fire that is too hard to put out she doesn’t know that fire is both: warming and consuming
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