The Brahmaputra

-
I flow untamed, undeterred, 
My silver waves scattered with parijat 
And ashes of the dead. 
A man comes exploring 
The secrets in my depth, 
He worships me 
When I quench his desolated fields 
And curses me 
When I uproot civilisation on my way.  

I am ancient, raising Majuli 
And culture of the indigenous, 
I have witnessed the battle of Saraighat, 
I have drowned histories and many a heroic soul 
And now I endure the torments  
As they try to choke me  
With grease and plastic and rubble 
And poison the children harboured in my bosom. 
Yet, I flow, tarred and determined.  

As the setting scarlet sun casts an iridescent glow  
On the horizon; 
A lone kingfisher flies above me, 
A host of sparrows return home  
To the cliffs of the venerable temple, 
A hapless lad rows his sorrows 
Through my arms 
And a young dreamy girl sits on my banks 
Wondering if I can bring the distant fables 
Of cherished cities and fragrant lanes, 
Or perhaps seeking refuge from all the horror 
That mankind is, 
Reminding me of my vitality and flair; 
And I flow, boundless and sanguine.   
-

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Summers Apart

-
Yellow shower of Azadirachta and a gentle breeze Welcome me into springtide, Sweet summer aroma of its flowers Trigger memories of childhood Spent in dusty streets chasing butterflies. Summer resonated the vibrations of steel and china, The savouring of fresh lemonade and squishy mangoes, The vibrant petunias and pansies in my garden  Daring me to seek the flycatchers While I relished collecting dews from leaflets. Spectacular evenings were devoted to  Watching the scarlet sun disappear  Behind the magnificent mountains From the podium of my sacrosanct balcony, And admiring the lush greenery Coming alive from the fervent rain, While some delightful yet poignant melodies  Played on a harmonium in the background. 1000 miles away from home, Amidst skyscrapers and trapped cars on the road, Summer is a rush of hot wind Exhaled on my face, Choking my hardened tan of skin.  Sweaty palms, sweaty soles  And...
Read more

Lingering Feelings

-
Love must not be demanded, they say. Love is patient, love is kind. But how long do you wait Before he loves you back? 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 years? Have faith, they said. Kisses shared, memories made But so many stories left untold And unheard, so many secrets unwhispered, How do you make up for lost time? What do you do when realization hits you that All the promises and compromises are pointless? Do you loath thyself for this predicament? Don’t all thy hopes seem futile now? How do you pretend it’s okay, when it’s not? Lingering feelings are like the inheritor’s powder, Killing you slowly, without any trace. What then, you ask, is the cure for unrequited love? Maybe focusing on all his flaws will help; After all, he isn’t that charming. Maybe recriminating him is the answer, Or maybe there is no remedy. But as winter approaches this time, With the refreshing aroma of the Saptaparni, I commit to let you go, Being grateful that if nothing else I have learnt ...
Read more

The Blue Fields

-
Forget me not, she said. I’ll be there when the snow melts. Remember all the long walks Along the mountainous terrain Where I guided you under the dark clouds And cleared a path for you to travel by. Rosy lips and the sweet chamomile Appears tempting and beguiling; Bewitching are the cherry blossoms. The bleeding heart may declare love, The belladonna disguising as your companion. I, but, can only assist you in the truth. I do not crave your attention Nor your flattering words of praise. What do words mean? Accept me, for I cannot alter. So bequeath all the fabrications And return home to the distant hills, Visit the blue fields of scorpion grass, I’ll be there amidst the fragrance at dusk.  
Read more