Rememberance

I sit alone in my room
the moon steals in
through the window
makings patterns
on a patterned floor

A whiff of breeze
spirits in a whisper
Of a thought
laced with passion...
Unspoken yet shared

Amidst a jugalbandi,
of esoteric music,
conducted by a turbulent & fickle old man
I seek a distant drummer
who can awaken...

Primordial memories of
dreamy moments...
and fantasies ...
snatched from a patterned & predictable existence

(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma

Apprehension

I hurt my foot at the bottom of the stairs.
Now I am scared.
How will I climb up through the layers?!

"Minor sprain," the voice
from the aseptic shroud says.
Caricature of a comforting statement.

The ladder is long,
And shadows gather behind me.
Shadows, they instill in me
Things I would rather not have.

I remember my Grandma:
Picture of quiet & snow hair,
Telling animated stories of goodness and honesty,
Surrendered to the deep belief
Of her sons' dedication to duties.

I was angry then,
And I am angry now.
But an amateurish picture of Grandma
Is all that I paint.

(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma

After 14 years

Amidst those flickering lights
Amongst those moving flashes
Somewhere…

Amidst those darkened buildings
Hunched over a computer
Stooping over a phone
Perhaps she sits….

14 years…
Fourteen years……
Fourteeeen years……!!

14 years I wait
12 months to a year
365 days to each

And yet she says
Can we meet tomorrow?

14 years since she lived
in the vales of my mind….
grown from a duckling to a swan
from a girl to a lady

and back to a girl perhaps?

14 years have I dreamt of this day
And today she says
Can we meet tomorrow?

Have I broken a wing
That I cannot fly away?
Or am I afraid of the dark?

(c)Atanu Prasad Sarma