Poetry: Snigdha Agrawal

Snigdha Agrawal

Tall promises

Pregnant with promises

Sun rushed up the horizon

Anxious to give birth to a new day

Slipping out with placenta intact

Into the hands of morning awakened

Severing umbilical cord attached 

To the dark night’s folded blanket

Shrill call of the Koel 

Renting the air, reminding it’s spring

End of winter’s quietitude

Beginning of hope

Swaying hush of foilages

Cool breeze from nature’s chiller tray

Drenching minds with happiness

Thus arrives ‘Poila Baishakh’

Inbox, Face book, whatsapp 

Jammed with Seasons Greetings

Seeking attention

Tangled in the comforter 

Half asleep, reluctant to wake up

Tackle another day of loneliness

Shrill phone ring pierces the subconscious

Must be to wish “Shubho Nabobarsho”

Instead, voice at the other end

Says “Sorry to share news of his death”

Melodies of spring halt 

Screeching like a broken pin

Stuck on a gramophone record 

Voices in head hum 

“Not fair! Not fair!”

***

Living dead

You dodge security personnel

Entering into apartment complexes

Without any security clearance

Breezing in through the gates

Ringing the doorbell

Dropping your wares

Like Amazon Delivery Boys

On door foot mats

On brass knockers, door handles

And while they make a quick exit

You lurk around lobbies unseen

Camera footage has never

Been able to capture your image

Befuddling!

So what?

Have seen you metamorphose

In many avatars

Seen your wicked grimace

Seen your finger pointed at faces

Seen your gluttonous stare

Waiting to be invited in

Leaving without footfall traces

So, behind closed doors

We live, the living dead

Threatened by your evil presence

Each day, a living hell

Pondering who will you fell next

Piling souls in your chariot 

To unload in Hades

***

Crossing over

O Baishakh! When the wind blows

And buds awaken to bloom

Clouds flirt across blue skies

One minute clear, next

‘Kal Baishaki’

Raising curtains of dust storms

Then victorious sun, dazzling earth

O where have you disappeared?

Where are the varied costumes?

You wear pulled out from your drawers

To dance to the tune of “Hey Baishakh”

O Baishakh! Bring back the crowned 

Bushes of ‘Jui, Jasmine’ blossoms

Atrophied minds seek these smells

To drown the odours of burning flesh

Wafting from crematoriums

Cannonade on us hailstorms

Many decibels higher than

The wail of ambulance sirens 

Day and night heard nonstop

Someone, somewhere being ferried

Into the valley of the unknown

***

Visitation

Clouds bared their black teeth

Black as watermelon seeds

Lightning trembled beneath

Waves frothed like an epileptic

Angered by the injustice of death

Of him, barely in his forties

Trees whispered softly

Warning of a Tsunami 

Dammed emotions kicked open

Sluice gates, flooding their being

Nature acting high and mighty

Crushed souls crying pitifully 

‘Why him? Why not me?’

A mother keeps repeating

A wife keeps moaning

Innocent minds keep questioning

‘But isn’t Death meant for the aged?’

This must be play acting’

Nothing seems to fall into place.

***

April in slow motion

Slowly,

Stepped over the door mat, pressed the lift button with gloved hand.

Doors yawned open. Saw resident passengers without face masks. 

Waved them off to their death bed. Some ask for it!

          

Slowly,

Entered the balcony, dusted the chairs, sank into one, staring into 

greyness. Someone sneezed one floor above. Mind tripped, rushed

indoors. Logic no more holds place in neutered minds!

Slowly,

The wind whispered into my ears of the impending surge. Stocked up on

hand sanitizers and face masks, stitched holding within their layers,

trapped fears. Another year to deal with the virus, peeling away

sanity make up!

Slowly,

Drifting into zombie state, economical with emotions, weighed by chains

of solitude imposed by April, when it should have been the other way 

around, prancing in gaiety to the melodies of spring. Learning how to 

handle this empty time, stretching beyond the infinity!

***

BIO

Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) is Bengali born, raised in cosmopolitan environment, with exposure to the eastern and western cultures, imbibing the best of both worlds. With more than two decades experience of working in the corporate sector, her outlook on life is balanced, which reflects on her writings. She writes all genres of poetry, prose, short stories, travelogues, hotel/restaurant reviews on Tripadvisor; essentially a versatile writer. A published writer of two books of poems, and contribution to several anthologies, e-magazines, she spends time writing and traveling. She lives with her husband in Bangalore, Karnataka, India.

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Setu, August 2021