We wrest from the Earth what we cannot possibly return, the rocks, the Rhododendron claiming it to be our own; a sad little goat tied to a pole, bleating for a mother, a ghost long slaughtered. Any stretch of land, we strip and tar and pave, get a shout-out for this impudent achievement. People throng…
Tag: thought
It rains
It rain it rains it rains On my mind from the skies It rains. Crocheted into the day Slyly into the night It rains. Droplets of joy Drops of indignation It rains Nothing dries I wipe the tear soaked face Hug the dog his fur is damp Still, it rains.
I’m here
Quiet. My words are quiet. Breaking through the soft beeps Of the machines Telling me that life Carries on in other worlds In other worlds Where you walk The wind a balmy breath Upon the pond As it shimmers In a tarnished white glow The edges smoothed to whisper In my ear, “I’m here.”
A Sunday evening walk in the city
The sidewalks are taken by hawkers brewing pakoras and tea the smell of smoke cigarettes, kerosene, open fires, the smog of tiredness like a dirty chadar on the hands of the beggar lady forever turned upwards. Petrol fumes… of course how could I miss that? “take shallow breaths,” I tell myself, as a horn blares in…
“Life is for the living.”
“Life is for the living,” my father used to say. I never really understood what he meant. Oh, I was familiar with death. I was never shielded from it and as a young teen, often accompanied my father on his occasional trips to the crematorium or graveyard. Later, on the way home, I would I…
ipsita banerjee 