Poetry: Sanghita Sanyal

Sanghita Sanyal
Fragrance

One 31st night, I had seen you,
Frozen yet alive,
Amidst multitude of coloured faces
In their automatic movements,
On some strangers' dancefloor,
You had shaken a leg with me,
I was another stranger, vanishing away
In no time. We all vanish into nothingness Soon after, as night deepens, day breaks,
Like the smoke blooms and sways away. That night, it stayed awhile longer.
Trapped on an empty dancefloor,
Like glitters, shining occasionally, suddenly, At random. Otherwise, invisible.
***


The Changing Colour of Silence 

Once upon a time,

Someone wanted to catch silence on paper-

“Things people don’t say”,

To dive headlong into the depths

Of an ocean, where the waves are churned

By breaths of excruciatingly heavy wordlessness.

To walk along an alley,

Where silence is hanging in the air

Like icicles dripping the leftover of winter

Like the smell of dried earth, after the rain beats.

He wanted to catch That silence,

Which says much more than speech,

Which brewed and whistled inside the head.

A silence, that read beautiful to some, scary to some more,

Poets and scholars were much interested in such silences.

But that silence is lost, in a baffling turn of orders,

Now it seems, it got distilled into a mass,

Of solid nothing, of dried up humanity.

Stranded midway, on the lips

Of complacent creatures, “marked safe.”

Am afraid, that silence doesn’t hang anymore,

Inspiring a poet’s subject,

It swells, expands, and eats up the heart

Like the burnt embers in the ashes. 

***


Sanghita Sanyal teaches English Literature in Loreto College, Kolkata. Tagore Studies, Gender Studies and Language Studies are some of her special interests. She is also one of the Executive Council members of the Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library, Kolkata. Sanghita takes keen interest in English and Bengali translation activities.  Sarangi

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