Winter in Calcutta

The blue knotted tie
peeping through the buttoned jacket front.
The slight chill in the morning air
heralding the onset of winter months here.

A desire for warmth in the morn,
to cover the naked bodies
that lay inter-twined all night long.
Muffler clad figures of old,
coughing, continue their morning walk in the cold.

The morning misty sky,
gone is the sweat, lips beginning to dry.

Circus in city, fairs at maidan,
attracting crowds, dozens pouring in noon day sun.
Park street decorated, time to be merry
Yule tide spirit, cheers- driving away every worry!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Aabar Baithak - Coffee Shop or bor jaatri nibas?

C'mon! Everyone is entitled to a bad day. A day when nothing goes right and try as you might,    everything seems to be like it had just come under the impact of a tornado. Saturday probably was one such day for Abar Baithak and that was the day we decided to pay a visit to this place. Ever seen a marriage hall reserved for the bridegroom's kins to stay? The bridegroom's party is always larger than estimated, making any place reserved by the bride's parents look cramped. Abar Baithak looked, to us, just like such a place. There were people outside the house, young ones mainly, as if they had gathered outside for a smoke, away from the prying eyes of elders  ensconced inside the house. At an arm's length away from the band of these youngsters and sitting on chairs lining the walkway, were a few people, just like the workmen of decorators or lighting contractor who happen to sit down for an unscheduled break from decoration work, their feet stretched out and bodies...
Read more
The monkey bared it teeth in irritation,                             swinging from a branch of a tree. The Macaw’s cacophony-like laughter seemed,                                        To add salt to the injury! Birds of varied feathers, screeched noisily,                          and flew in circles inside the cage. The hippopotamus lazily rose from the water,                      shaking its head, as if in a fit of rage! The noise awoke...
Read more

The boat ride through Alleppy's Back-Waters

We drift on Meandering our way through the numerous canals as if to give company to those clusters of drifting water hyacinth. No hurry, the water goads the boat gently. “Feast on the life that unfolds by my banks”, it seems to say. “Look how the simple lives of these folks Keep them content and gay”! There’s a boy who takes a bath. By the canal banks he keeps a watch. In welcome he waves, in between his wash. And with mock disdain, he lets us pass. The women folk of the village Busy with their chores. Washing the clothes, they beat them sore. Keeping the home fire burning Is no mean a feat. To the banks they come, To retreat or is it some inspiration they seek? Some villages are small with houses of mud and clay. Thatched roofs of coir and dried leaves that keep nature’s elements at bay. The bigger villages have houses so pretty. Painted in bright colours, They appear to house only fun and gaiety. The temples are old but churches bright and painted new. In the land of red brigade, Re...
Read more