Special Edition: Sreelekha Chatterjee

Sreelekha Chatterjee

A Moment in the Hourglass

Every instant slips through the gauze of time.

A wave that shimmers, breathing freshness,

vanishes in the gigantic ocean. 

We soak in the remains all wet,

while the circumambient air

never finds the shore.

Hiding in the fisherman’s mesh, 

the fish strives to be alive.

We crave for the moment’s benediction

destined never to return.

The numinous essence survives—

liberated, yet etched in memory forever.

***

When I Surrender

Riding a horse all set to win—

a refreshing day, a ravishing night—

no matter how much I tighten my rein,

every moment slips away,

off from one to another trice.

Its fleeting presence burns me in despair,

mourning its loss, a game I declare.

I remain blinded by the darkness

before the dawn,

ignorant like a child in a mother’s womb.

Living in the instant, a mantra I forget

for time will never stay,

black tresses shall turn grey,

wrinkles on spotless skin will soon delight.

What is conceivable today 

is bound to be forgotten.

In the web of palpable and impalpable, 

I clinch my soul for want of familiarity.

Letting go is what I learn from the clouds

Time will travel as its travels go on. 

***

Revival of Moments

I wheel back to a moment I’m now deprived

Like a bouquet of roses that was once alive.

I saunter along the memory alleys in succession.

My body and soul align to meet a childhood day

where innocence awaits to bask in nature’s way.

I wheel back to a moment I’m now deprived.

Like a printer that returns each impression—

my mother’s lap, my friends’ happy playground.

I saunter along the memory alleys in succession.

A verdurous jubilation swaying in the breeze,

my eyes of innocence soak as they please.

I wheel back to a moment I’m now deprived.

Echoes of laughter, erasing solemn mood.

Simple hearts caroling, prattling, prancing away.

I saunter along the memory alleys in succession.

Like dreams they appear, as I loll around.

I see all in my mind’s glorious eye.

I wheel back to a moment I’m now deprived.

I saunter along the memory alleys in succession.

***

Continuity of Time

Unable to capture a moment that goes by,

I pause to reflect in my mind’s eye.

One that I see in the mirror is a different me.

For what I have been seconds ago naturally flee.

How do I recreate a bygone instant?

For no two such moments are the same.

I am an aborigine in the scene of life

who knows the sound of rain,

the clamor of winds, the calls of birds,

but uninformed of time and its release—

powerless to arrest the moment life appears.

Existence remains unchanged, nothing disassembles.

Moments ensemble, with richness and variety.

Trapped in eternity, time promulgates

what propagates on and on,

for we are mere players multiplied

in the course of the game.

***

Recreation

If only a magic lamp helped me refashion moments.

In an instant, I would have journeyed to a faraway land.

Seen the merry children play on the beach.

If only a magic lamp helped me refashion moments.

Counted the waves that lashed on the shore.

Followed the birds until at a distance they soared.

If only a magic lamp helped me refashion moments.

In an instant, I would have journeyed to a faraway land.

***

Bio: Sreelekha Chatterjee is a poet from New Delhi, India. Her poems have appeared in Madras

Courier, Setu, Raw Lit, Pena Literary Magazine, The Mini Magazine of Assam, Verse-Virtual, The Wise Owl, Ghudsavar Literary Magazine, Orenaug Mountain Poetry Journal, Poetry Catalog, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, Medusa’s Kitchen, The Literary Times, Ukiyo Literary Magazine, and in the anthologies—The Harvest & the Reaping, Winter Glimmerings, and Whose Spirits Touch (Orenaug Mountain Publishing, USA) and Christmas-Winter Anthology Volume 4 (Black Bough Poetry, Wales, UK).

Facebook: facebook.com/sreelekha.chatterjee.1/, X (formerly Twitter): @sreelekha001,

Instagram @sreelekha2023

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Setu, August 2024