When I was kid at the school I saw, one day, a body wrapped in woolen rug
Lying by the side of the road just down the bridge where I used to take turn
to my home. There was a body we, me and my friends, know very well. But,
we don’t know what would be our responsibility. We passed it, and on my
insistent we stopped at a distance. Few flies were buzzing over the face of
covered body while a type of bug mixed with them on the other parts. I can
recollect there was a crow also sitting on the railing that was there, new then
now worn off and broken. It was there looking at the wrapped body, silently.
No more crows were there, nor was a sparrow or any other bird was there.
The crowd was mostly of returning from school students and their mothers.
Few of them had looked at them. Some spat on the body. Some covered their
noses with the end of their sharees. I was thinking whose body it can be. I had
looked at the crow. I can recollect it looked at me and I at it. It might have been
thinking I’m going to snatch its hunt. To it it was just a dead rodent or rat. It cawed
at me. Saying to go away, the hunt belongs to it. My friends tried to pull me away.
Suddenly, the rug quake, and the body sat up with the rug on it. A bearded
obnoxious face of a man emerged. Ma used to scare me saying he was the ungrateful
giant from the garden. The crow flew away. The passing flowing crowd was startled
and had halted for a few beats ‘fore gathering up the momentum again. The giant
yawned and looked around. We ran away as he looked at us in the way.
Many years later when gran’ma was lying dead with body wrapped under her
favorite designed blanket, I recollect the crow on the railing. I feel I had became it as I
wait to see gran’ma wake up, and talk with me on how was my day or am I hungry or
not. The threshold of the room was my railing.
Originally written in Bengali in 2011-2012. Rewritten for Day 17 of National/Global Poem Writing Month 2019.
Today, I’d like you to challenge you to write a poem that similarly presents a scene from an unusual point of view. Perhaps you could write a poem that presents Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery from the perspective of the apple. Or the shootout at the OK Corral from the viewpoint of a passing vulture. Or maybe it could be something as everyday as a rainstorm, as experienced by a raindrop.
Featured image procured from Google Search Engine.