Poetry: Tishya Majumder

Tishya Majumder

I ran my hands through her hair,
My bracelet became one with her knots.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed.
I traced her neck.
Slowly moving down her back,
I unhooked her top.
Dried, brown scars lay before my eyes.
Leaning forward, I kissed them.
She shivered.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
She turned around and kissed me.
“Not anymore,” she smiled.
Her saliva had smeared by lipstick.
Looking into her eyes, I wondered,
What a wonderful world it would be,
If heart conquered mind,
And love conquered rules.
As our lips interlocked, my mind escaped
To a free land – where she and I,
Were one.
A loud bang!
The door broke open.
Her parents stared at us,
Like they had found the thieves,
Thieves who stole their stance,
And crushed it.
That night,
I became one with her.
We shared the scars,
And the hospital ward.

Two Cups of Coffee
“One teaspoon coffee powder,
Two tablespoons sugar,
Three tablespoons milk.”

I make two cups of coffee,
Every evening.
One for her, and one for me.

My neighbours call me insane.
Some pity me.
Others spit on my name.

I make two cups of coffee.
I drink mine,
And watch her stare at her cup.

The doctor visits me every night.
He says I am getting better,
And puts me to sleep.

I make two cups of coffee.
I urge her to drink.
She looks at me and smiles,
The coffee turns cold.

As I close my eyes,
And sleep overtakes me,
I dream of her, every night:

I see her walk towards me.
I make two cups of coffee,
One for her and one for me,
She drinks and smiles.

Taking me in her arms, she braids my hair.
She hugs me tight, and kisses my lips.

And suddenly,
Darkness clouds before my eyes.
I see two pairs of hands,
Trying to drag her away from me.
She clings to my dress.
I cry for help.
They can’t hear me.
They don’t want to hear me.

They pull out a knife and stab her.
I watch her bleed.
They leave her dying, they leave me crying.

I scream.
“Madam! Are you okay?” the nurse wakes me up.

See You Later

As I lay on the street,
And my wounds consume me,
Memories flash before my eyes:

The first time you spoke to me,
Pretending to ask me directions.

The first time you touched my hand,
Pretending to see my bracelet.

The first time you invited me to your house,
Pretending to take my help for your project.

The first time you blushed on my name,
And shyly put your hair behind your ears.

The first time I saw you cry,
When I declared my love for you.

The first time you sent me a letter,
Stained with your lipstick.

The first time we held hands.
The first time our lips met.
The first time I held you tight,
And promised a ‘forever’.

I am sorry.
I failed.
I lost to a world,
Where love has rules,
And acceptance is conditional.

As I bleed to death,
On a road softer than most hearts,
I close my eyes,
And remember the last time I saw you,
When they pulled us apart,
And struck me down.

I guess we will meet again,
In a world where love wins.
See you later, Love.

Tishya Majumder lives in West Bengal, India and has published her short story ‘Phoenix’ in Ardour – An Anthology. She has qualified Bachelor of Arts and Master of Arts in English from University of North Bengal, India with First Class.  She has received the University Silver Medal and the Kartick Ch. Maiti Memorial Medal for securing the second position in B.A. She has also received the University Gold Medal for securing the first position in M.A. and the Monotosh Bose & Ranjika Bose Memorial Prize, Certificate of Appreciation for scoring the highest marks in English among the Female Candidates in M.A. 

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।