By Shreya Bhattacharyya
1)
A strange beauty in a strange stillness did lie
A strange somber sight
In the onset of the night
Death like stillness? No, not death
For death has a life
2)
A swelled lump on the earth’s chest
Of pain it couldn’t hold
Shroud’d in thin sheet of grass
And sprinkl’d with smiling daises of great mass
3)
And in unending stream did stand
Still lilacs’ mournful band
All dress’d alike
In pure peaceful white
4)
But for a big hibiscus’ occasional peep
A hue so red deep
With a dropp’d gaze
Feeling pangs of loneliness
5)
A pall of smoke now rising
Slowly against the gloomy sky
Drops resting on each leaf, each flow’r
Only spectators of the recent heavy show’r
6)
Neither a rustle nor a twitter
Nor the playful hide & seek of the squirrel;
Or the beetle & the bee
In their usual working glee
7)
But for a secret thrush from a secret bush
With its shrill loud voice
A tragic tale did relate
A melody so unheard!
8)
And here falls the night
With its moonlit large lamp
And thousands of tiny twinkling light
Earth looks still quite damp!
9)
A real somber sight
For me the only passer by
For who can be in this unknown wild
Lo! But a sobbing child?
10)
Dear child what made you drop the tears
You still in your fresh tender years;
Why you unknown to joy
Is it the loss of your only toy?
11)
No answer was made
Nor should I wait
A full night stretch’d ahead to pass
A night so dark
A night so long
When ye are stung by the thorn
12)
Though a pleasant scene had my tir’d eyes foreseen
Or the aching feet had asked a carpet green
Or the ear that had long’d to hear a melody sweet
Had wait’d long for the breeze to fan my sweaty cheeks
13)
But let me not drop a tear
For every soul a coffin bear
Of dead dreams & dead desires
And there is future fear
That haunts today’s cheer
14)
And despair the eight-limbed bug
That creeps every heart ever so snug
Either malady or misfortune sits on the vein
Or it is poverty & pain
Ah! These not all, here comes,
Separation, oppression, defeat & downfall
15)
Shine Once again! Apollo’s mighty weapon
Chop off! The desire’s wingy flight
Rain! O you Blissful rain
To lighten the weight of dead carrion
Blow hard! Ye western wind
Sweep away the crumbs of the past
16)
But doth one good an open sore
Makes you calmer more & more;
Eases the pain of a boil
That earlier pricked you hard
Easy you now be to hardships & toil
17)
Time runs its fastest race
When ye walk in shade;
While it slouches with slowest pace
When ye are under fierce sun;
Walk you with steady steps O man,
Dares you the bright sunny bay
18)
Now I see, a fading glimmering scene
In light of moon’s beam;
Companions that shared some path with me
I hear, a hearty laugh I often sneaked
19)
Some swiftly passed as the playful gale
That teases the sweaty summer of May
While some stayed some way
The shady path they seemed to stretch
20)
They all passed;
Or rather- I passed them all
But let not the heart cry
For what you passed by
21)
Each turn each corner
Brings some new scenes
All seasons not spring
All metals not gold
Every change has a reason of its own
22)
But in journey weary & long
One comrade forever stood by my side
My mentor-like a guiding light;
Whispers every now & then
Some piece of great wisdom
23)
Sing along the way the dirge of your soul O dear
For blessed are the unblessed
Who can sing their mind
Change the rags, they can
Into crafted joys;
All that their lots reserve
Now it lets the drop preserve
24)
Sing all the way, not be dumb
What if adversity’s icy hand made you numb?
The divine that inflict the mighty & the mean alike;
O you blind to glory, deaf to flattery
Thou have no favorite bias
25)
Thou with your double dart
Pierce the crust of the heart;
And as it touches the core
Raw virtues start to flow
26)
One makes you fight the plight
Other makes you groan in the dark night
Yet you bear sweet fruit
Namely, forbearance & fortitude
27)
Let not ye curb the innate gift
The oozing fluid to crystallize
Pour it rather in the right mould of right size
Or to pine & pine
And heap the dead shrine?
28)
Now all I have is one plea:
(Know not what lies there for me)
Neither laurels nor accolades
Nor any memorial ever raise
Let me be unknown to praise
29)
But my lot may n’t waste my one desire
That my hearth ever remains on fire
A reward of my toil
Some valor for the turmoil.
------Shreya Mukherjee