The locks shading the dreamy face of my sleeping wife; (as) the mango tree dancing and rustling with neem tree in the gust; there may be a storm brewing up somewhere. The clouds have created boats with their sails being orange from the west sun. The home-returning birds–crows and sparrows and all–creating the wave that is needed to make the murky sky a clear stream like Ganga these days. The henet flied over the boats; they have to carry the message to the stars so that they can shine when the moon will rise. The Howrah Bridge will shine in the moonbow on the Hooghly river where the boats and ships and trailers are asleep. And where once the long-beaked dolphin used to swim in the abundance and carelessly. And the hargila** used to feast on the carcasses and the dead bodies. Once on a rainy day, four centuries ago from today, it is said, Job Charnock set foot on the bank of this river. The city was then a village of weaver in the name of Sutanuti. Somewhere on some bank a couple of century ago of the Independence, commander-in-chief Mir Jafar had plot against his king, Nawab Siraj-ud-Daulah, letting the trader to be the ruler of the country; making the city their capital and the river to be used for trade not only for the religion. The fairy on the dome of Victoria Memorial waiting for that breeze from the river to dance once more; lore says the fairy used to turn when there was a wind–a striking strong Gangetic one. Now it stands rusted and sun-heated against the seasonal sky. The weather is balmy now as the summer day, another one, calling it a day. The flock of henet is flying smeared in the faded orange of the dusk touching the water with its paws and giving the wind of the river a voice with the flapping of their wings. They have lot of miles to cover. She woke up removing the locks–a dream I had, what can I say–she said smiling at me.
**Hargila: Greater Adjutant
Some space I filled up; some I couldn’t. I referred some line to be specific of the mention of some instances. Without much delay here’s my Almanac behind the poem…
Weather: Balmy, stormy
Flora: Mango, Neem
Architecture: Victoria Memorial
Customs: Water of Ganga river and its tributaries and distributaries is holy and auspicious (not only for the religion)
Mammals/reptiles/fish: Crows, sparrows, dolphin
Childhood dream: Journalist
Found on the Street:
Export:
Graffiti: Fairy on the dome of Victoria Memorial
Lover: My Wife
Conspiracy: Commander-in-Chief Mir Jafar conspired against his Nawab Siraj-ud-Daulah during Battle of Plassey (1757)
Dress:
Hometown memory:
Notable person: Job Charnock
Outside your window, you find: “The mango tree dancing and rustling with neem tree in the wind”
Today’s news headline: COVID 19 affected increasing in India (And the hargila used to feast on the carcasses and the dead bodies.)
Scrap from a letter: Job Charnock set foot on the bank of river Hooghly on a rainy day
Animal from a myth: Henet
Story read to children at night: The birth of Calcutta or Kolkata
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find: The sky during the clouded sunset
You walk to the border and hear:
What you fear: Not being able to write (Now it stands rusted and sun-heated against the seasonal sky)
Picture on your city’s postcard: Howrah Bridge
The vivid wordplay and visuals. Bravo!
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It just one of those poems that happens…
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