That Morning…

Running around the house in my trousers and vest,

Searching every corner, underneath and roofs of almirah and all.

Ma questioned on my searching, but, I’ve no time to reply her.

I shouted at her.

My cell phone sings up an old Bollywood song in her voice.

It’s she.

I didn’t receive the call and continue my doings.

A couple or more of times it chimes.

She called my Ma.

I shouted at both of them when she asked for me.

And sat down to breakfast disturbed at fullest.

The wristwatch shows it’s already 9.05 AM.

The traffic is at high.

The twenty-five minutes journey to office will now take double.

I need to be at the office at 9.50 AM;

the meeting will start at 10 AM.

Three taxis denied; one asked for an extra charge.

The buses are crowded.

(It’s being long I’ve taken public transport).

I cursed self for denying the offer of transportation

promised by the boss.

The cell phone rings.

It is she.

I disconnect the call and board a crowded bus.

The cell phone rings few more times.

The clock shows 9.55 AM as I enter the office.

Boss shout, calling at side.

The day is going great…I said self.

The extension at his table beep

when he was at high of screaming at me.

Someone has come to see you…at reception…don’t be late…he said.

It is she in the waiting room.

Eyes red from crying.

Face fill with beads of sweat with

clouds over her pout lips.

You’ve left this last day at my home…her voice shaken.

She’s going to cry.

I look at her hand and it is there.

Her hand is shaking.

She’s going to cry.

I took it and wipe her face.

Are you going to a fight…

how many times I had said not to keep open the button at chest…

let me do it…

She came closer and pick a peck on my cheek and, after putting the button on,–

whisper go…or you’ll be late…

I looked at my lucky charms…

One on my hand–

my sky blue handkerchief

And another–

her smile

you know your smile make the surrounding haze…I said her.

The receptionist knock and said Boss is calling.

I wipe her face again with my handkerchief

and quickly steal a kiss on her forehead…

making my fortuitousness shine more radiant…

~~xx~~

National Poetry Writing Month Day#7: A Poem About Luck & Fortuitousness

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Author: Sangbad

A published poet. Avid Reader. Favorite authors (few) are Satyajit Ray, Saradindu Bandyopadhyay, Bankim Ch. Chatterjee, Jhumpa Lahiri, O. Henry, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, etc. Music lovers. Love to hear Rabrinda Sangeet, Anjan Dutt, Enrique Iglesias, Mozart & Beethoven (though can't say which is who's symphony). Dislike to get clicked. Love to be self (introvert).

9 thoughts on “That Morning…”

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