FragranceSanghita Sanyal
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.
***
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