I want to climb on top of that flag-pole And fling myself on the ground below My body spattering among parked cars, my blood mixing in the rain drenched street. Sometimes that is all I want, to embrace the end, to accept that this IS the end, although it is nothing like I craved or…
last rites
My fathers and I sit by the Hoogly Lit by diyas glowing on dinghies The bustling city with its pancaked lights Refract the water in the fractured night. They tell me how nice it was to meet Yet another uncle who died last week How his son was overtly devotional The words he spoke at the funeral His voice…
Today.
#Sensewrds Prompt 558 each morning I wear the black coat as for the last time, this life minus direction, fingers plucking at scar-strings till fingernails come away bloody. The door opens and a daughter saunters in surprising us from a distant city. where amid dreams in layered flagstones, she lives alone. And the day is…
To Ipsy, age 13.
(This poem is inspired by a writing prompt..”write a poem about the life advice you would give your younger self”) Do not sweat the small stuff But then you already know that. Those Math marks do not matter But the disappointment On Baba’s face? That does. Hug him close, tell him Every opportunity you get…
For the living.
You may think I’m morbid but every time I watch the flames of the pyre it feels as though the fire reclaims it’s own. In the end we are all ash, returning to the earth From whence we were born. In my mind I see you, standing by another pyre Quite unlike this. I see…
The News, 02.01.2023
Four people have been killed, nine injured in a terror strike. Russia continues to bombard Ukraine while members of the Opposition make arrangements for people to rest while walking for unity across the length of the country (the breadth seems to have been excluded)! A young girl died after being dragged for 12 kilometres. And…
For Ziggy
Not the swimming pool. Not the drives or that Maruti van of vintage spirit that you climbed into. Not the Bay of Bengal. Not its indifferent waves. Not the terrace of how it bemoaned the loss of those who left the years, the dates, unimportant. The hopscotch drawn in chalk waiting in vain for tiny…
Full moon again
You sit by the pond in the night and watch your father Crossing the dark grass, blinking through the trees Toward you, the moon balanced in his hands As he ruffles through the night only for you How long have I been waiting, you ask aloud May be forever, answers the night. It must be…
The dead.
The sun sets early in this place And does not return for days From across the horizon Comes the wistful murmurs In voices of loved ones, long dead. There are no human footprints To dispel the stillness with noise No questions that need be answered No cell phone rings to annoy. The living, at last,…
Someone, somewhere.
Someone somewhere is happy today But I scuttled the boat I was in Someone is pleased with her purchases, The path his career is going. Some couples smile and rejoice tonight I thought I would reach the other side Families are laughing over stories Narrated at the table where they abide Some children will not…
Ninety
Someone was talking about older relatives, Nonagenarians. I smiled, it’s your ninetieth birthday Today. The earth still smells as sweet and cradles Those plants you loved so well. When it rains The pond overflows as we splash among the edges Any excuse to jump right in. I still get lost. Meaninglessly in time playing games when …
Eight.
In my mind I am an octopus, the colours of my body Changing as I sleep; the yellows of contentment, The greys of the bleak worries, dyed in bleach. The deep blue shades of peaceful slumber, The frowning blacks as I refrain from speech. I do not speak to the dead bodies anymore I do…
Birdsong
The koel does not know this is a High Court meant only for serious matters, the Benches are for arguments, law and procedure heinous crimes discussed in hushed monotones one does not smile here. The koel sings out, indifferent and clear from its perch up high, no one stops or cares to listen; a voice…
Walk with me…
I have carried you for thirty years in every step, every mis-step I have taken, in delicious, imprudent ways. You were there when my daughters were born, you hid in a corner to hide your tears when I left home that last time. You knew, didn’t you? You knew that my life would move so…
Unawares
the kitten playfully tumbles unaware that crunching tyres will mow it down. the girl climbs the loft unaware that a misstep and fall will render her dead. the man at lunch laughs unaware that that chilled beer will be his last. the widow crosses the street unaware that in seconds, her child will be orphaned. …
blending in
I never smiled much blending into furniture, invisible girl hovering, in a party neither the life nor the soul; My words often fail to translate across the cacophony, specially for people that are meant to matter the people I think I care for. When trying to explain my thoughts, I’m greeted with blank stares nothingness cursing…
Building Bridges. (For Helga)
Death, when it finally came, had a lover’s touch, stealing into the night by the glow of candles. I wander in and out the guest-room bleakly staring at me waiting for its occupant to return. This is the everyday as we know it: Spring is here and soon the summer heat will pour through windows. …
Christmas 2021
The last few poems leapt from my arms they have minds of their own, they want to undo all that was undone in the year gone by, they want to skip over bodies that floated through my life. I built a dam to silence them but they return in gurgles of laughter, ridiculing my efforts…
A little ramble
I did not think of you even once today as I roamed the trail, meandering down the valley, pausing to smile at an old woman gathering wood her face as gnarled as the sticks she carried upon her back. The tea pickers smiled as I passed marching by; too late in the year for plucking…
After those sharp edged words.
After those sharp edged words have been filedand kept away for another dayi turn to home, the only place i can bemyself, naked, shameless and alone. from these four walls dripping showers water washing away wounds and tearsi slip in though a side entrance lest i disturbanything else that may be home. The walls are…
Miss you, wish you would visit. (A poem inspired by poet Gabrielle Calvocoressi)
I do not care if you arrive in just your skeleton, but wait, we burnt that, come as a wisp of smoke, then Would love to take a stroll with you. Miss you. Would love to make you kosha mangsho and bhaat the way you loved it on Sunday afternoons. Love to feed you. Chatter over hot spicy…
Folded.
I folded away my sorrows in that patchwork blanket my mother made, now worn and frayed, which you tell me has seen better days. I folded away the creases of left over swatches of cloth used to make dresses when we were young. That pale pink one with the blue flowers? That used to be…
Monsoon
If I was a season, I would be monsoon, I would pour upon you in waves, flooding every cornice, flickering big fat raindrops All through the night. You would wake in the morning to water-logged streets paper boats, dirty slippers, ilish and khichuri for lunch. Yes, if I was a season, I would be monsoon…
When I think of you…
When I think of you I cannot be sadI think of the crack of dawnI think of birds flying in pairsAnd every lost soul finding a home. When I think of you I cannot be sadI think of enormous skiesI think butterflies flitting in the gardenAnd every lost soul breathing a sigh. When I think…
One day….
One day I will throw my arms and hug again We will meet in cafes and chatter And moan about work pressures And chuckle at trivial things. We will dance like no one’s watching, Go on trips, laugh with wild abandon And the only masks will be the faces We wish to wear that day. For…
29 years…
I am still sitting there, submerged in water As the setting sun slants in, watching The coconut trees dancing in the wind. Still lost in my thoughts, you in yours Contentment seeping through pruned fingers Stopping to paddle, to swim to chatter Blowing fountains out of hands. I’m still painting myself into a corner As…
Peace at last.
It poured that evening after that crematorium The man there collecting the dead like piles of leaves Leaves that have fallen from trees bursting with summer While the garden lies untended, with no one to stop And admire the flowers that were your joy and pride. The skies darkened to black and rain lashed the…
Lost souls
I don’t talk about God with my mother I don’t tell her a lot of things like how I struggle to sleep, or laugh and go through another day. I tell no one that I am sad How I let my soul wander and it goes away. I don’t talk about how I don’t care…
Inside the tunnel
There is only darkness here And the low stench of mildew Fragmented by your illusions. The last glimmer of hope You thought you saw As you rounded the corner Was only a reflection That skittered off your eye… There is no illumination here As you paw your way holding Hands and slippery walls to guide…
The last mango of the Salt Lake house
was starting to rot. I cut carefully around the edges, juices dripping down fingers Into mouths that eagerly waited to bite into the sweet yellow flesh. No one lives in that house since you left. It lies abandoned, a shadow of what had been, a house full of memories the walls a reminder of all that…
We are safe #CycloneAmphan
The rain lashed the walls of my face Each drop piercing the skin as I chased The old unused tent that threatened to fly Off the terrace. Someone gave that tent To my daughters for them to play, And there it stayed for years thereafter, out grown, But not remembered to be thrown. The clouds…
The things I have/13.05.2020
Daybreak walks in the city with me dragging my feet the driving lesson that became an accident Chicklets to combat the salt of the sea. Sun-kissed days in the summer sun lazy somersaults in the pool steaks and fries and chips with sauce rolls shared on half-day afternoons. That movie I begged you to take…
To the crow
I used to hate crows, scavengers of the earth squawking, snatching, swamping the skies when one died, shot by that stray bullet frightening us into the house. But then you said that crows were good that when they eat the food offered to the dead it is as though the dead have returned. Since then…
Ghosts
There are no ghosts, you said, there are no ghosts; only the memories and those we have left behind. Or have been left by by those who moved to another place from where there is no return. Yet, when the stars flicker glittering through my tears and the skies are silent at that moment when…
To the stranger in the dark.
Faces change over time grow up and move away But eyes? Eyes remain the same, windows to all that was. I think I see you cross the road our eyes meeting only for a second to move on, obscurity measured in a single glance. Maybe you too thought I was someone you knew from another…
Old wounds
There was a wound near the ear That never healed. Each evening I would change the dressing The blood never stopped its flow. He would not wince, even As I applied disinfectant trying To be as gentle as possible, As softly and as far as I could go. His eyes glistened with pain and tears …
Abandoned.
A little girl sat on the swing set When I took the dog before dawn. I almost missed her quiet face But the moon was still in form Her face was streaked with tears In her hands she clutched a cloth With which she tried to cover her face Fear upon her visage wrought. I…
No poem today
I will write no poem today I will just chill, not fret about meter And spend the morning Nursing my coffee and Sudoku. I will not write a stanza today No deep thoughts to construe, No yearnings to express… No quatrain or haiku. I will binge-watch a TV show About haunted houses or spies And…
The poem I was writing
Died a senseless death The body waits In the crowded funeral homes For the rich In lime covered mass graves Of the poor Tortured and twisted In the agony of birth Breathless and blown By gathering storm clouds The cadaver awaits A decent burial.
I: Itinerant : The roads I take
On my way to work I often shut my eyes and in my mind I am on a road that does not race through a concrete jungle Where there are no buildings or the jostle of cars Where roads wind through mist ridden hills Lined with pine trees that rise above the clouds Curving through…
H: Hazard: This poem
I wrote no poem yesterday, The words dried up, constricting My throat, like the onset of a bad cold, A hacking cough and fever. Fever is a bad word now, Being sick is a colossal mistake. The cousin passed away last week No, it wasn’t the Novel Corona virus She had been suffering, and was…
F: Faces: Limitations
My eyes are mere windows With which I watch the world, My face is but a mirror, Behind which I hide my soul. Charm me not into believing That I am anything more than that Let my dreams not become bigger Than something I am not. Treat me kindly, still Lest I shatter into pieces…
E: Edges : Time
Time moves differently here, Slowly, sluggishly, lips clinging To the edge of the glass. Time weeps unshed tears here Fears that went unnoticed Bursting open scabs on the wounds Time laughs at mankind here Those who think they can divide us Do we not all bleed when hurt? Time sees our true selves here As…
In praise of women
Who is she? Who is she that shines at night Glittering, as upon a stage? Who is it that braves the crowds Every day on the local train? Who is the lady who hides a breast Under her sari as her child feeds? Who is the woman wildly reaching For the alms you throw at…
C: COVID-19: Lockdown
Even as I slept I dreamt about the poem I’d write Today. In the silence it comes back to me “How to make a garlic sizzle”. Of course You melt the butter and let the pod hiss In the pan. I realise of course it was just a dream Who writes of garlic and everyday…
ipsita banerjee 