Soumyanetra
is currently a faculty member
of the Economic Research Unit (ERU) at the Indian Statistical Institute (ISI)
Kolkata. Even though she’s a trained economist, she has always been a
passionate lover of English and have been composing in various genres since
childhood. She has been publishing prose and poetry in ‘The Statesman’
ever since she was in school and even now regularly contributes articles and
short stories to the daily. She has recently published her first collection of
poems titled “You’re the Mecca I never want to visit” which has been very
well-received.
In
my mother's womb
Let
me wake up tonight
In
my mother’s womb
In
the snug cover of love and security
Blinded
from the showy dazzle
Of
the outer, corrupt world
Where
fabrication and lies abound
Let
me wake up tonight
In
my mother’s womb
Where
the sheer physical connections
Of
truth and respect
Overwhelm
and persist
And
are the only restraints
Let
me imbibe the sounds and
Fragrances
of her selflessness
Let
me sink in the beauty
And
ecstasy of her body
And
cry at her many scrifices
Let
there be no other truth
Let
me never be born again.
On the coldest day of the city
On the coldest day of the city
I
send you my warmest wishes
As
the grey monotony of the winter
Descends
on the shivering city
Like
sleep on bored, drooping eyelids
I
send you the warmth of
My
snug blanket at night
As
the dark smoke chokes
The
green and the living
And
the fog shrouds
The
colours and the contours
I
send you the vibrancy
And
the joy of a clear blue summer sky
To
all those without warm clothes
Writhing
on the coldest of floors
With
the severest chill
Slowly
stabbing the spine
On
a clear starry wintry night
I
send you cushions of heat and hope
And
the wet moisture
Of
a hot humid summer day
To
all those shivering on the streets
As
the last embers of the tired fire dies
I
send you the soft caress
Of
the first rays of the morning sun
And
to those fighting the endless tyranny
Of
the unending winter nights
I
send you the comfort and love
Of
cozy hugs and embraces
Of hopes
and thoughts
Of
a spring not too far away
And
to those whose senses have got numbed
By
the ruthlessness of the cold
And
those that huddle together
Like
piles of dirty clothes
On
desolate pavements in my shivering city,
My
poor city, my orphan city, my lonely city,
I
send you my warmest wishes.
The
sea and the sand
There
is sand all over me
My
hair and body
And
slopes and troughs
And
edges and corners
In
every pore and every path
Clinging
on to me like
Suckling
babies
Like
they’re bent upon finding
Out
my deepest secrets
My
deepest agonies
The
ocean’s within me though
The
tumult, the turbulence
The
endless waves lashing
At
the shores of my existence
My
emotions and beliefs
My
thoughts and hopes
Love
and despair
Crushing
upon the sands
And
then again caressing and smoothing them
Lovingly
and with great care
Patterns
and contours
Carved
effortlessly across
The
body of time and space
Endless
saga of the sand and the shore
Just
seemingly going past
Yet
not quite
Returning
to one’s loving embrace
And
again stretching into the unknown
Into
the infinite and beyond
I
am one with them
One
among them
Disintegrating
and assembling
In
a seamless show of timelessness
Just
a speck in the eternity.
Voices Within-2020 :: Setu, February 2020
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