Moods, Moments আর প্রেম - বিন্দু By Sunil Sharma

Un-separated selves!

... oddly there-that moment again: The January rain in grey sheets, along a long boulevard, off Janpath, New Delhi, the familiar fragrance! He pauses, entire being suspended momentarily, on that memorable dusk, recalling a long walk on a pathway covered with trees---and now, same spot, an absence! Last, pre-Covid, they had met there...strolled, back-forth, talking of John Donne, pizza and inflation, unemployment, downsizing, as contiguous talk-points, rolled into a single thread, on a date! "Your eyes are..." "Hmm!" She had murmured, encouraging her companion to articulate submerged feelings into shy words. "Like the evening stars, yoked together by a pair of majestic brows!" She had laughed, echoing a thunder in some alien sky… …and left a crumpled note in his sweaty hands; lines that recall another poet: No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruin’d cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman’s knell. ...afterwards, the Covid struck, changing the universal narratives of wellness and survival, in a degraded world, turning these quoted words, as prophetic! A deadly silence, solitude of a soul, reflecting on the state of things, of what once-was and is-now-not. The said-unsaid of a rendezvous, now fuse together in a realized threshold of deep cognition; awareness of truth and transience, there-not-there syndrome, of affirmation in the negation---the world.

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