By Vishnu PR
Are! Bristi eseche!
Bhalobasara bristi.
The mighty Hooghly turned indigo,
Mirroring the blue skies,
Which weep the tears,
Of love and rebirth.
Encircling this blue-stained city,
A colour gifted by the rejuvenating rain.
Cradling the canoes,
Ferrying them on her back.
She summons her fiery avatar,
With a love few can fathom!
Stricken with fever, muffled,
In a woolen blanket.
Gazing through a porthole,
Watching white blossoms falling.
On the watery roads of Kolkata,
Love remains an unobtainable nectar to me!
Seeping through the thatched roof,
Plopping into my hot tea cup.
Whispering of its renewal,
It flickers in the brass lamp’s flame.
A reflection of a love,
As deep as Hooghly's for this city.
Saw her once,
Leaning against the pillars of the Durga pooja pandal.
Draped in a white saree with red,
Whispering its beauty of strength,
Vermilion adorning her golden cheeks, I found me in her!
Catching a glance of her in me,
Yearning to hold her hand once.
I stood near to her, but she vanished,
like a mystical goddess!
What does this rain say to me?
Does it love me carrying her scent?
Then let me melt in this blue tinted rain,
If it gives me salvation!