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Poetry – Rumpa Das

Maa

The smell of KeoKarpin in your wet hair every morning
The white patches of Cuticura talc on your sweat- soaked neck
As you hurried to prepare Bapi’ s
‘Office’ er bhaat’ and our morning edibles…
The tantalising aura of half- baked posto’ r bora and divine shorshe ilish…
Your tired, but satisfied look as we polished our stainless steel thaalis,
And the wet smell of your faintly- perfumed sari every afternoon.
Sunsets stealthily peeped to find you busy in your evening rituals.
‘Ga- dhowa’ over, freshly-washed sari clinging lovingly around your neck,
You blew the conch- shell,
Amidst a film of Green Champa and ‘dhuno’ smoke
Your vermilion mark brightening
The yellowish bulb lighting up our rented domestic heaven.
You made a home out of a house, ma!
I, who return in weary steps to a flat that encloses silence-
Don’t even know how to ululate or blow the conchshell …
And the russet light of dusk
Overpowers me with a collage of you – Maa
ফেসবুক দিয়ে আপনার মন্তব্য করুন
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