Lipika and the city

Moinak Dutta
Oft in her moments of tenderness
When Lipika would think of newer dress
And all the adornments that she could think of
A pair of jeans, a salwar suit, a cotton saree, lip gloss,
She would think how in her all those years
The city had grown through happiness and tears,

She had heard the day she was born
Her father had woken up early morn
And went to that maternity ward
Of a nursing home, at that boulevard,
And saw her by her mother's side
Like a child of the festival of Eastertide,

Days later when she was brought home
She was kept by the window, where flowers bloomed
Radhachura, gandharaj, roses and red oleanders,
She grew by that window, as passed years,

Later when she was taken to the kindergarten
She was made to sit by casements with curtains,
Which gave her sights and sounds and visions,
In between her studies and various lessons,
She had seen how the city looked quiet
Early in the morning drenched by autumnal light,
Also in days of winter and woolens,

She had seen from classroom how pollens
Of marigolds got carried by butterflies and bees
She had seen all those lovely green vivacious trees,
And felt had there not been any place like the city
She would have never seen the beauty
Of nature as embodied in the serene life
Which she got hold of and oft took a dive
To replenish her mind with mellow fruitfulness
She thought of the city as her only place
To be, to grow, to know, to imagine and create
Her soul, her heart, which got perpetually set
By the passing images, scent and flavours
Of the city which also made her the Lover
Of man, woman and child, the poor, the wretched,
Those friends who returned from wars crippled,

The city had witnessed worst nightmares and bloodsheds
The city had risen from slumber of the dead
And took to the streets with candlelights to claim Peace
The only way to save humanity from violence of the seventies,
She had grown with them too, hearing gunshots like thunders
Ripping apart the silence of the night, the sky dark without stars;
Many years later, one day of Autumn
Just before the durgotsav, at a mandap sudden
She saw for the first time how love came quiet
Standing before her, looking at her eyes,
That day too, she thought it must have been the city
Which gave her all - poetry, prose, paintings, flowers and the beauty.

No comments :

Post a Comment

We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. प्रकाशित रचना से सम्बंधित शालीन सम्वाद का स्वागत है।