Date Notes, 28 Apr ’15

evening- the sky threatens to inundate-
we pack a plate of momos- chicken,
schezuan- hop into an auto:
darkness swirls over the aged buildings of Hatibagan.
trams, their toothless mouths stuffed with romanticism,
hobble unmindful. all morning, we tried
etching secrets onto each other’s skin, ears
cocked for the softest sound of feet down the
corridor: as we kissed; as we exhaled the
anguish of seven long days out on the cold red
floor. the rush is thinning spasmodically.
a cubic angstrom of my brain feels exhilarated as the traffic count
goes 5-4-3-2-1- yellow taxis zoom, i bump sideways in his chest-
everything smells of sweet,
wet earth.

at Ahiritola, we find the river weeping:
blue-black bruises blotch her swollen face,
the wind lashes, tears froth-lipped waves into
tattered skeins- i clutch his arm,
the jetty trembles and the sky is electric.
when it starts raining, we have just
unwrapped the momos- hurriedly, my mauve umbrella
goes up. our backs are slabs of ice.

evening- it pours- monsoon is an enraged
raga. the strings of her tanpura are ablaze.
leaflets engorge with ecstasy, the bloom of petrichor percolates
through flesh, bones- i feed him momos,
hungry for touch and warmth and proximity.
the bridge is a limp line of halogens
hovering ghost-like between earth and sky.
a launch bobs bearing-less in the distance.
our lips ache for a confluence.
Kolkata holds us back despite herself.

©Mohana Das

Advertisements

13 thoughts on “Date Notes, 28 Apr ’15

  1. Mohana, as usual I find your imagery stunning in their complexity.. this ride through Kolkata in company brings me close to all those senses that to me is so exotic, yet you make them familiar.. as the universal feeling of humans and the complications of relationships beyond falling in love. Wonderful piece.

  2. Monsoon season is approaching fast. Some dazzling imagery here, particularly struck with the bleakness and battered violence of:

    we find the river weeping:
    blue-black bruises blotch her swollen face,
    the wind lashes, tears froth-lipped waves into
    tattered skeins

  3. I love these:
    “hobble unmindful”
    “etching secrets onto each other’s skin”
    “the rush is thinning spasmodically”
    “at Ahiritola, we find the river weeping: blue-black bruises”
    the whole last stanza

  4. Ah.. the fury of nature.. is a valuable human lesson
    sizing us down.. and where i live it is certainly
    the power of Hurricanes that brings
    that lesson home.. they leave
    in 2008.. and haven’t come back..
    and I WILL HOPE AND pray they stay
    away..:)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s