Rajput’s tragic death must be seen in the context that in the fairly global fairy tale where power generally devours women and spits them out as gristle (remember Red Riding Hood’s Wolf?), a MAN has suffered that unlikely fate. A MAN has died a womanly death. Whether anyone says it out loud or not, that Rajput was a man, that he was upper-caste Hindu, that he was gorgeous, that he was talented, meant nothing because he had “no godfather.” Like women, who have only one kind, for which Rajput presumably didn’t qualify or apply.
Elizabeth Hazen’s GIRLS LIKE US: POEMS is a feat of and feast of women’s poetry
lines of verse step out and push one hard in the chest, obliging exclamation, pause, reckoning, refamiliarization, resumption