Paramita Mukherjee Mullick: Poetry (Voices Within 2021)

Paramita Mukherjee Mullick is a scientist transformed into a poet. She has six published books and her poems have been widely published in Indian and foreign journals. Some of her poems have been translated into 36 languages. She is the Founder President of the Mumbai Chapter of The Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library. She has been blessed with numerous national and international awards. She has previously been the Executive Editor of an international magazine Kafla Intercontinental and also the Executive Director of the International Writers' Festival conducted by Kafla. She lives in Mumbai, India.


MY MOTHER-IN-LAW’S SEWING KIT

A yellow old plastic box.
With reels of threads of all colours.
Different needles attached to a board.
Embroidery threads of different shades.
An old zip lying on a side.
A thimble peeping from a corner.
Quite a swanky set of needles in a pack.
The Darner’s Crewel and the Threader.
The Sailmakers’ needle and the Carpet needle.
The Upholstery and the Packing needles.
My mother- in -law is no more.
But her sewing kit remains.
So many years gone by, 
Nobody has touched the kit.
While darning a dress, I used the sewing kit.
Suddenly a surge of memories, a closeness.
A person goes away but memories remain.
Only the person is missing, the objects around the same.
***


THE FORTUNE TELLER
(Inspired by the painting of Reynolds of the same name)

“Oh, fortune teller! Tell me my future.”
For centuries, humans have wanted to know the future.
But aren’t we the creators of our own destiny?
We work hard and go forward in life.
We with peace and harmony stop every strife.

“Oh, fortune teller! Tell me my future”.
Let’s all be like a child who is not troubled about its future.
Exploring new things and being happy.
A flower bud opens on its own.
Spreading fragrance and beauty in its zone.

“Oh, fortune teller! Tell me my future”.
A butterfly comes out of its chrysalis on its own.
If we try to bring it out, its wings get damaged.
A child grows up and as an adult bloom.
Spreading compassion and kindness in the whole room.
***


MISTY MORNING OF MUMBAI

My flight took off in the early morn.
It was misty and a lovely dawn.

Looked down upon a misty morning of Mumbai.
The hazy scene so dear to me.
The skyline of the tall skyscrapers of Worli.
The Bandra-Worli Sea link meandering.
The tips of the tall buildings hiding away in clouds.

Looked down upon a misty, magical Mumbai.
The city in an enchanting haze.
With love in my heart, I dazed.
The tiny boats still on the bay.
Like tiny dots they lay.

The dazzling city covered in a mist.
The beauty lingered long; I could not resist.

1 comment :

  1. The concept of sewing kit is on the verge of being obsolete..
    Like the people who used them the kits will also become memories... Very well expressed in the poem.. Brought back so many memories of the past

    ReplyDelete

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