Guwahati,

Poetry

River

 River

Anurag Rudra
 
Don't touch the river beloved
It is sorrow, pure
Strained through a dream sieve
Woven with memory
The river is sorrow
Made into thick ropes
Like notes flowing
From a stony flute
The river talks to me beloved
The river loves me alone
For I can whisper life
Into silent chimes
Made of the cruel earth
The river loves me for that
And pays me back
In the dabs of silver
Streaking your hair
With each ageing day
Beloved, let me drink
My red crusted river
Like hungry stones
Wetting themselves
With silent tears
 
..........................
 
For Anshul
Jayati Das

Tonight, when the high's over,
Smile over the Bloody Marys that stained us forever,
Diluted by laughter-
Yours and mine
And remember:
Love is not found in the undeveloped photographs
That you cried over,
Nor in the verses that broke off before the climax,
But it is in the ash that stains your hair,
The way your feet did when they stood
Over the dust on my obscure balcony,
You blowing smoke twice as thick as the smiles you managed
Despite the scars we both shared,
Spreading the kind of perfume I thought only my fantasies smelt of.
A kiss is not always a solution,
You once said
And I laughed in agreement,
Half-lying,
Wishing truths would hurt less
Than the scabs we pick
For sheer masochistic fun.
Maybe someday I'll match your 8.8 MB songs
And make your breath slow down
Like my forever hanging phone-
Saying "Love, luv, is all we have...we are all we have
-enough and not enough..."
Like your pink, your orange, your blue 
And like your you
That'll someday puff away the sadness
Like your inconsequential birthday candles
But never the lovely, loving, loved- You.
 
..................................
Seance
Jayati Das
 
 
Speak if you will
With the dead
If you believe
That dust can mouth
Words as clear
As a microwave oven 'ding'
And when the popcorn is done
Pass around the bucket-
Share
-How you heard her voice
Once more
And swear that
It caressed your eardrum
Like an aunt
Her favourite nephew's head.
She will tell you
How she misses
Your laugh. Your arms. You.
And your tears will supplement
The glass of spirit
Much like Jacques's deer
The lake.
Then
The velveted table
Will quake,
Her voice fade
And rush away
Like a metro from the station.
You will sit still
Hungering for more
But obliged by contract
Will merely reach out
For your wallet
To pay for the ticket
To your own theatre show.
 
..................................
Frozen Star
Biju Deka
 
 
Thousand bullets of strangeness
in my listless paradise..
when I am homesick for my repentance, 
when I am empty for a desert. 
I am dirty as the storm...
I am single as a river; 
with ruins of time 
wearing facades to ease all distress..
I am quiet as all the moonless stars;
sing, within me, you the vagabond...
write, within me, all the wasted years...
when I would jump from Minaret into the sky
disappearance won't be violence anymore. 
Say goodbye to the street where the river takes a turning to go far away from the mountains...
to go far away from the mountains.