Categories
Poetry

Spectacles

By Himadri Lahiri

.

In the worst of times my specs too have betrayed.

Only the day before yesterday

it fell from my hand, lost its shape and swayed.

Though the lenses remained intact    

the frame lost its right angles, to tell you the fact.

It being the worst of times, you cannot visit an optician

and get it mended – or go for a new acquisition.

.

So I continue wearing my specs bent.

And lo! Visions become unbelievably indecent.

White becomes black, blackness receives a jolt.

One who has been a friend so long seems a foe –

he appears with a false show.

Stranger still, how can one elected in a fair poll

inevitably turn into a mole?

Philanthropes, I believe, are god’s messengers.

How then are they trapped in messy affairs?

They appear as crooked as my neighbour

who for me holds nothing but a sabre.

Hilariously, men and women with sure stigma

are wonderful people – how it happens is an enigma –  

who run errands for the aged

and reach out to the caged

during the pandemic, the worst of times!

.

These visions reversed

must have something to do with the specs perverse –

since its fall it behaves strange.

Hope, you’ll excuse me for the change,

for I have nothing to do with the detriment.

Blame it all on the instrument.

.

Bio-noteHimadri Lahiri is former Professor, Department of English and Culture Studies, University of Burdwan, West Bengal. Currently, he is Professor of English at the School of Humanities, Netaji Subhas Open University, Kolkata. He has written extensively on Diaspora Studies, Postcolonial Studies and Indian English Literature. His latest publication is Diaspora Theory and Transnationalism (Hyderabad: Orient Blackswan, 2019).  Contemporary Indian English Poetry and Drama (Newcastle on Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2019), co-edited by him, has also been published recently. He writes book reviews for newspapers and academic journals. He writes poems at his leisure hours.    

   

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL. 

                                           

Categories
Poetry

Walking & Spring in my Grandma’s closet

WALKING


She is Rumki
No one knows whether she is a Muslim or a Hindu
She mops the floor in a sari shop in the city
Babu tells there are insects in the air
He closes the shop.
.
Rumki decides to go back to her village
Goes to the estation, the trains are closed
The buses are not plying
Decides to walk, she starts 
Walking.
.
The mid-day Sun at her head
 Makes her hungry,
Chews a green chili and drinks water
Kneads the maps of her village 
Cements the cracks.
.
Starts walking 
She will walk until she reaches her village.






Spring in My Grandma's Closet

Does it remind her of the cheli
she draped as a child bride?
.
Sunlight peeps through the window;
she giggles — her bare gum protrudes.
.
The breeze ruffles her white mane.
Grandma falters a step or two;
.
she gathers her thaan and soft bones
as she enters the verandah clutching the railing. 
.
Granny cranes her neck to find a primrose waiving at her.

By Sutanuka Ghosh Roy


Notes: 


Cheli:  small sari wore by little girls during marriage in the olden times in Bengal
Thaan: borderless white sari the widows wear

By Sutanuka Ghosh Roy

WALKING

She is Rumki

No one knows whether she is a Muslim or a Hindu

She mops the floor in a sari shop in the city

Babu tells there are insects in the air

He closes the shop.

.

Rumki decides to go back to her village

Goes to the estation, the trains are closed

The buses are not plying

Decides to walk, she starts

Walking.

.

The mid-day Sun at her head

 Makes her hungry,

Chews a green chili and drinks water

Kneads the maps of her village

Cements the cracks.

.

Starts walking

She will walk until she reaches her village.

.

.

Spring in My Grandma’s Closet

Does it remind her of the cheli

she draped as a child bride?

.

Sunlight peeps through the window;

she giggles — her bare gum protrudes.

.

The breeze ruffles her white mane.

Grandma falters a step or two;

.

she gathers her thaan and soft bones

as she enters the verandah clutching the railing.

.

Granny cranes her neck to find a primrose waiving at her.

.

Notes:

Cheli:  Small sari worn by little girls in Bengal

Thaan: Borderless white sari widows were forced to wear

.

Dr Sutanuka Ghosh Roy is Assistant Professor and Head Department of English in Tarakeswar Degree College, The University of Burdwan. She did her doctoral dissertation on Two Eighteen Century British Women Poets: Hannah More and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. She has been teaching at the undergraduate and postgraduate level for years. She is currently engaged in active research and her areas of interest include Eighteenth Century literature, Indian English literature, Canadian Studies, Post colonial Literature, Australian Studies, Dalit Literature, Gender Studies etc. She has published widely and presented papers at National and International Seminars. She is a regular contributor of research articles and papers to anthologies, national and international journals of repute like The Statesman, Muse India, Lapis lazuli, Setu etc. She is also a reviewer, a poet and a critic.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.