Black is my colour black is my night black is the ink with which I write words that keep you near words that keep you alive black is the grief I cling to black is my white.
A: alchemy
at night, uncontrolled your fingers close over mine darkness turns to gold. #haiku
at night
at night my thoughts grow teeth sprout wings and emerge to preen they collide and crash slow dancing me into one bloodthirsty scream tangle and fall apart tooth-marks on my shoulder rendering sleep a distant dream.
One little thing
without you morning walkers at the Lakes would be arrested for jay-walking without you every stranger on the road would be guilty of stalking without you the kosha-mangsho I make would lose all its zing without you even the stars would not have a song to sing without you faces would stare out of my…
Presence
Your eyes follow me rather sternly in the Bar Library where I sit quietly from where your picture now hangs, your absence has been made present. I can pretend the half smile I see playing about your lips the gold of your voice that I hear ringing in my ears aren’t just fragments of…
Living with 8 children!
Within weeks of my marriage, I was a mother. Even I did not expect it. I entered my husband’s home with a head full of dreams, a heart full of hope and a minor trepidation of being saddled with a host of relatives that I hitherto did not have. Like many a newlywed, I too…
That quiet corner
Today a cousin sent a message that took me deep into my youth where children ran rebellious and free in their delicious little roles. I was transported to another world years away from where I sit picking away at the keyboard as life picks at us..bit by little bit. I’m flooded with thoughts of people…
Adventures of a reluctant Mom.
I have a confession to make: I am not one of those people who see babies and go ga-ga…no angelic motherly feelings are roused in my breast when confronted with a snotty baby… bells do not ring, music does not play and my dreams are certainly not sprinkled with baby powder. Let’s face it: I’ve…
To my father on father’s day…
Dearest Baba, My hands are empty. I have not bought you anything, not even a cake or a childish painting…. My daughters, (your grand-children) plan and whisper… they are so excited Father’s Day is coming! I listen to them and nod encouragingly, feeling some of their excitement rubbing off on me. Just some. Not enough….
Fairy Dust
Feeling naked and cursed I reach for solace and find it in the memory of your words in your smile that tiny bit of you I have saved like fairy dust… Pinched between my fingers.
ipsita banerjee 