A Voice in the Dark | Shubhodeep Pal

(a cutout) The grey cat stirs upon the ledge, The bay is thick with flecks of white— Swift rays across the falling wall below, The floor before my bed is bright. From crumbling walls white-headed crows take flight. And half out of sleep I watch your sleeping face: Grateful for the resin-scented night. I get up and go out in a solitary daze… Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

The chrysoberyl sky glints And shimmers. It’s dusk. Near moonlight. A fever bird pauses and grins While in my dreams I feel a slight Tremor and break. The adagio Is long and sorrowful and drab; I am filled with thoughts of you: At each insect I wistfully grab. The dead sun rains evening heat, My room fills with mosquitoes and sweat Even in my dreams I fitfully breathe— Dreaming of scribbling something infinitely great.

The glowing hills invite the sun, And stillness sets in gradually— Weary peasants move slowly on Their path to a depressing eternity. Lazy herds placidly wend their way, Lost travellers trudge painfully ahead, The stillness drives the calm fitfully away— Broken souls search for a long-lost bed. Quiet, calm; the mute, fractured peace Stirs up warped memories and emotions— And as scorched leaves quiver in the eerie breeze The deepening night serves up blind passions…

NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE After the day’s rush to put pieces together and reclaim sanity THE WISE MAN Finds bliss and relief in philosophy and books until hunger gnaws EX-FLAME Averting eyes ‘til possible from that visage lest lost passion awakes INEXPLAINABLE Why do we ignore the present for the future, search for death, not life?

-as seen by an orphan somewhere The night is ablaze. The sky dons a vermillion hue. Quaint eruptions of laughter and revelry sail in through wrought iron gates. All is calm here, but not silent. The opening round of crackers burst erratically. It is an equal music. I stand in a forgotten nook of the orphanage. The wind lacerates the mud water as it puffs towards me. Outside, the traffic slashes through the brightly lit roads. Its roar comes to me as white noise. Divali night is always subdued inside-tonight, it is even more so. An aura of gloom envelops the compound, contrary to the gaiety outside. Some light filters through from the outside world and makes feeble attempts to dispel the glumness inside. Burnt 'rocket' ends land on the dried grass from time to time. Almost tearfully I ruminate on some lines my mother once read to me. That voice is still clear but bodiless: 'That night of hate grows dense around us. We laugh through what we can't dispel, While apathy and

RAINDROPS After the first rains pearly tears drip down slowly staining window panes NOCTURNAL JINGLE Night madness pours through a frenzied, mad speaker but who is listening? NIGHT QUEST Walking up and down the deserted streets searching for my soul’s lenses THE OLD MAN He squats on the night street, wipes fictional tears and mends broken glasses LOST PROPERTY Some elated schoolboys gather near a cracked wall in search of cricket balls

The grey noise ebbs suddenly away, Leaves me in a quaint reverie— Sporadic thoughts, assuaging ruminations hold sway— Distant companions to every Swift, slow or wild mood of mine. The madrone Hills fade surreptitiously in the eerie sunset— I get up. Moonlight. I am on my own; Quietly I vanish into the glowing shadow belt. 55 word poem

A blur of voices: rising, ebbing, flowing through a constricted channel of ever-evasive peace. Swerving, twisting and turning till a whale of volatile emotions appear only to vanish in another whimsical, caustic moment. Curving and bending through an intricate maze of lost memories, distorted situations, places… Warped through time, shaken about the globe, fractured by silence, dispersed in the noise. Somewhere, somehow, the meaning is lost and the recognition vanishes…

The madrone hills slowly fade, And merge with the glimmering dusk— The sky glows: a burning façade Of hope, rest, the evening dust… The lane slowly narrows and bends Towards my destination tonight: One star in the velvet sky tends To guide me with its macabre light. I walk along slowly, steadily On this eerie, grassless path; Nightjars, owls, croon throatily; Forcing upon me, their nocturnal wrath. Antediluvian creepers are laced Around wrought-iron gates, I halt; I stand and peer at glazed Long-forgotten, splintered name-plates. As I move, dusty footprints Get erased, the lane becomes pristine— The solitary electric pole glints In the still light of the celestial line. A distant light attracts me, The fractured noise of silence Goes unnoticed; I unconsciously see Lush, invigorated nonsense. A world of good and bad, A motivated realm of winners— Some sumptuous enjoyments to be had, And a few desultory, hollow pleasures. I walk on, hope springs up willingly— The night rains with broken

Sitting, listening to voices; harsh, calm, strange- and silent. Waiting for something to happen- For perhaps a miracle... When this turbulent sea of wasted breath shall sink into peace. Stillness will pervade... But before that there'll be that ominous, almost disconcerting calm...