Other benches keep the chaali covered. Mine sits in the sun.

About me

Bette benches keep their haasu covered over with cloth. Mine stays open, face up, from munjaane to dark. Two days of sun turns a slice pale and tellu. Under cloth it stays dappa and dull, every single time. Tapale is where it starts, every munjaane without fail. Red water, soft adakke, and chogaru left behind in the bottom. 🔥 Beside the tapale a bagoni takes every rinse. Bagoni water stays warm till evening, so nobody else uses that bagoni. Hudi is the half of this trade nobody mentions. Hudi lifts off a chaali and settles along my arm. 🌿 On wet skin that dust stays till the bagoni. In my hair the hudi lasts two days longer. Chaali off my sarota has one thickness, always one. A hurried bench gives you three. 💦 Tapale heat plus a slow wrist, and there is the trade entire. One bagoni rinse, and the surface goes shiny as glass. By eight the tapale cools and my wrists are unsteady. Bagoni water goes on my gardan first, then everywhere else. 🥵 Hudi comes off me slowly, because the copper is warm and nobody is waiting. Chaali in the sun does not hurry either, love, and nor do I. Bagoni is where you will find me, hair down, soaked through. Thursday the tin goes down the ghat road. Friday the tapale gets scrubbed and I sleep in. 💋 Bette benches pull the haasu in at dark, chapra shut, lamp off; my haasu stays out and this bench stays open.