Valazha (Grow)
by Prithinkkraa Balasubramaniam
Mothers raise children on this
hardy, cold, Western
soil, sprinkling
them with our foreign
waters and chant
Valazha, valazha,
Healthy, wealthy, and wise
Valazha
Daughters spring forward,
seedlings into bushes,
unbidden but promising
still, Valazha, valazha
Healthy and wise
Let daughters marry good men and be
wealthy
Valazha
Daughters grow,
bushes flower,
blood red roses
bloom like a full,
plump
apple.
Valazha,
croon aunties with turmeric staining
fingertips and petals to
turn that bright red into something
sweet, holy, whole milk watering
those roots all the while.1
With red,
the hidden sin,
mothers sing
now, Do not shame me.
Mothers yank
curtains wide and light
spills, so they cry
I will be the one,
I will be responsible,
Your father is served
praise only, but I will be the one
responsible — do not shame me
Daughters grow, good,
decent, their hand,
a promise, on their mother’s
thinning head but soon
turn their sweet, sting
thorns away from the bare skin.2
Salt diamond daughters,
formed between opposing
seas are soluble
in either and neither and
try to slip away
without scratching their mothers
when they
take a shot,
hit a blunt,
lie with a lover.
Daughters paint
whole cities
red and swirl
pastes of crushed leaves,
pretty patterns to overlay
their already stained skin.
Fire licks
ruby fingertips
as hands hover over it.3
And daughters wonder if
it’s a blessing or a curse,
but fear the worst
because they know
their tongues are
too twisted for
Laxmi to ever
live there.4
Valazha, valavha
nee en kangal,
valazha
mothers say.
Mothers say,
You are my eyes5,
you are my diamond,
if I let you fall,
you will shatter,
you will be worthless.
And daughters
are but rose bushes,
roots clipped,
nipped,
neat.
Never to tell that diamonds
cut glass.
—
1 Refers to a Tamil coming of age ceremony (samithya veedu) for girls after they start menstruating. One of the customs is to bathe the girl with turmeric and milk. Orange is considered a holy colour in Hinduism.2 It’s believed that if you put your hand on someone’s head and say something, it must be a truth or you’re cursing that person to die.
3 When you finish puja (prayer) you putyour hands over these candle-type things (villaku) and bring it your head for a blessing because fire is another equivalent to kadavul (the gods.)
4 It’s said that if you are honest and pure, the goddess Laxmi will leave under your tongue.
5 English equivalent would be saying “you are my heart.”
Prithinkkraa Balasubramaniam will be a fourth-year Honours Health Sciences student this fall at the University of Ottawa. She is also a writer who writes across genres and mediums in an attempt to tell stories and share experiences for the sake of connection and understanding and creating as a means of living.