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Love in a Bathtub -- Sujata Bhatt

Guest poem sent in by Vidur
(Poem #843) Love in a Bathtub
 Years later we'll remember the bathtub
 the position of the taps
 the water, slippery
 as if a bucketful of eels had joined us ...
 we'll be old, our children grown up
 but we'll remember the water sloshing out
 the useless soap,
 the mountain of wet towels.
 'Remember the bathtub in Belfast?'
 we'll prod each other -
-- Sujata Bhatt
alright, so you never ran my submission of that wonderful wonderful
kamala das poem 'the looking glass'. [we did, actually - poem #804 -m.]

but i do feel indian women poets besides eunice (whose work i've
enjoyed ever since i studied under her) deserve better representation
on this list. so here's a delightful little poem by sujata bhatt.

ok, so sujata bhatt doesn't really belong to this genre: but she is of
indian origin and a lot of her work is influenced thus. there's little
comment i have to offer for this poem. i just love the way in which it
captures the essence of growing old together. two people who've shared
their lives, know each other so well and who can enjoy one another
through intimate moments like this from their past. private moments
that are theirs and theirs alone to treasure: 'remember the bathtub in



  A biography and an interview with Bhatt:
    [broken link]

28 comments: ( or Leave a comment )

Ramachandran said...


I am a great admirer of Sujata Bhatt's works. Can you mail me her 'My mother's way of wearing a saree'. I have misplaced the book. If there is an online link, can you provide the link to the same please?


Pragati Bidkar said...

cn i submit any poems for your anthology?? Or do you publish only well known
and great poets?

I have a few poems on


'The only thing to fear is fear itself'

cialis online said...

I love the poems, I have been reading book of some poets such as Sujata Bhatt and Braja Mohan Panda,I think that it is really good, I would like to have some of the books!!22dd

generic cialis said...

This is a a very good poem because it's like the pass of the life over us, actually I think life is a group of experiences and that's what the poem tries to tell us.m10m

secure tabs said...

She loves me-loves me not.
My hands I pick
and having broken my fingers
fling away.
So the first daisy-heads
one happens to flick
are plucked,
and guessing,
scattered into May.
Let a cut and shave
reveal my grey hairs.
Let the silver of the years
ring out endlessly !
Shameful common sense -
I hope, I swear -
Will never come
to me.

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