Piku Chowdhury

Turmeric glow in a bottle on shelf, and
Ruddy rage in another jar
Shallow green and diffident ochre
Trying to match the riot not far.
Riot of hues on counter shelf
Verdant greens and orange and cream
Carrots, spinach, leaves and mass
Red bell peppers in silent scream – 
The fire is lit
The ire splutters
And rage and love and scars and fear
Mingle in the oily voyage
Telling tales to the hand that steers;
The bottles add to counter stuff
And blended are they by the fire,
The hand keeps moving the ladle 
and hears the tales of joy and tear
Tales of life and tales of death
Of myriad hues and evolving faith
Burning is no option here
Raging red should add to flavour;
The kitchens blend the hues and churn
Ever new tales of regeneration.


Will it be washed away with the blue
Fragrant liquid poured in cups
Into the mighty snowy machine
That whirrs into an active life?
The stains of deceiving conniving souls
The marks of envy, labour and pain
Will the machine wash the stench 
Of heartbreaks, betrayal and all such stain?
We add one more cup of detergent 
With hope and yet with resignation,
The machine whirrs and churns the dress
That we have stained with inclination 
For profit and sadist joy of victory 
Winning over moral indignation.
We keep adding the washing potion
We keep alive the comforting cycle
In the hope of forgiveness, and
In the hope of a miracle.


The stealthy morning rays of sun
Creeping through the summer blinds
Create a vista for the dust
That swirl and dance in unison.
The duster adds to the merry crowd
Little rainbow gossamer beings
Twirl and swirl in a bizarre dance
Amidst the scheming metro bling.
Blaring horns and heat and cheats,
Dying honesty, unscrupulous feats –
Threats of death and poison touch
Defeated by the magical dust.
Promise of meraki in the dust -
Rainbow wings that spread a hope 
Of dust that may sail through dust 
Of the modern existence.

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