Voices Within: Chaitali Sengupta

Chaitali Sengupta is a published writer, poet, translator, reviewer, and a journalist based in the Netherlands. “Cross Stitched words”, is her debut collection of prose-poems, won an HONORABLE MENTION in the New England Book Festival 2021. Her latest work of translation, Timeless Tales in Translation is a collection of 12 short stories written by famous Hindi and Bengali authors. Besides, she has also translated two other Bengali works into English- “Quiet whispers of our heart” & “A thousand words of heart”. She has co-authored several esteemed anthologies. Web: https://crossstitchedwords.wordpress.com/about-me

Sayonara- since it must be so

Sometimes, the evening air gathers around us,

like the breath held,

and trembles in our November soul,

while we watch every spark of youth

returning to the darkness.

Sometimes, the astringent colors of oaks,

a deep red, suffused with orange,

tans over the bright yellows, 

like mellowed promises of an age gone by.

Sometimes, love leave just like that

crisped frosty leaf, breaking from the tree,

without a moment of goodbye.

Leaving us bereft, alone, standing

on the crossroads of pain,

wrapped in some fair memory,

as we wince inside, yet whisper,

‘Sayonara’- ‘Since it must be so.’

But the memories stay, beating inside us,

like another heart, 

running through us, like the pulse of life.

Heaped upon our layered heart,

like the piles of autumn leaves.

And as long as we remember those,

not all is lost.

***

Life ripples by

While life ripples by, ever so slowly,

one day, I stop by the rooms within me.

Yes, those several empty rooms, living within me.

Once, between these walls, memories clinged,

like multicolored raindrops,

throbbed, like the wings of the butterflies,

and heartbeats called at me, 

across the time.

Between these walls,

once an old lady sat, spinning her wheel,

sewing the best tale, listening to my words.

Now, she sits there, untangling

my childhood, tied up in knots of time.

I peep within, hold the silence of those moments,

on my palm,

while life ripples by, ever so slowly. 

***

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Setu, February 2022