By Rupam Malakar
The day was usual,
At home,
Moving like a camel,
Long and slow.
I was running the motor,
To fill the water tank.
When the tank gets full,
Water falls from the side outlet pipe.
I was ready for switching off,
In order to save water.
I was standing near the window,
To get the signal.
It's a one-way privacy window glass.
I saw a boy and a girl standing,
In front,
Near a corner.
They were talking.
I was staring at them.
Curiosity came like uncontrolled waves,
And suddenly the boy hits the girl — Bam.
Waves hit the shore.
Water falls.
And the girl's face turns red,
Like a rotten tomato.
I didn't like it.
I was about to yell:
"Don't you dare touch a lady,
You faggot."
Then I realised they were lovers.
The boy was yelling at the girl,
"You did this to me,"
He was asking her: Why?
The only damn question left to be answered.
Hell of a shithole.
Everyone — I mean every single one of them —
Goes through that shithole.
I was watching them closely.
The girl didn't even move.
She was standing like a rock,
And the boy was yelling.
Hitting again.
Asking for mercy.
Shouting at her.
The girl was like a thunderstorm,
Calm and about to burst.
Her face was like a flower blooming in vain.
She said nothing.
Mourning and weeping in heaven.
The boy left with one of his friends.
She was standing there still,
Like people standing in a funeral.
Then she carries herself up and leaves.
Her face was all that was left for me
That face of melancholy.
Some disasters were never seen.
They were felt within.
Those two lost lovers
Coming down my window.
And I was standing there helpless,
Lonely,
Watching them very closely.
There was no water to save.
There was no love to hope for.
There was nothing to save at all.