Editorial

Finding and losing… of sunshine and serrated mornings…

“I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house.”
___Nathaniel Hawthorne

The man was desperate in searching the last few droplets of the autumnal sun clinging on to the blabbering of the Sunday morning. The sun was athwart and down now, again, climbing up the ladders of the Sunday showcase, as a frolicking chain of neon light. I tried to call it into the autumnal flute-seller’s honey-glazed voice, in a hope that the sun might stay today! He was as mischievous as before. Mischievous as the toddler next door, hoping for a chocolaty, syrupy, holiday away from some drab Montessori courses; mischievous as one fading glimpse of the lady in love, masquerading with the imprints of a new-found love on her face, mischievous as the magnet called life that attracts a curious combination of lights, shadows and reflections in its definitive portions.
Finding and losing the eternity of sunshine, amidst the brows and furrowed temples of time has never been easy. The sinful, scintillating sunshine seeping through the ruddy, brownish glazed tabletop in the attic villa in Kolkata stuffs the memory with tunes. The sunshine is clever, it finds its never-ending ways of bullying the morning bee and the humming birds, it rests for a while on the beaks of the pelican, while the Bombay flamingoes fly away while the setting strokes of the hazelnut-orange sunshine still clings on to their lips…
Soaking in sunshine is an enigma, soaking out of it is perhaps, another Sunday bliss. Sunday sunshine is always special, like the bundles of fairy-tale books in Grandma’s closet.
Come this Sunday, and we present an assortment of artworks, poetry, translation and Sunday Thoughts for our ‘Sunday Talks’ Page.
Send in your entries to Sreetanwi at techtouchtalk@gmil.com / sreesup@gmail.com

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Sreetanwi Chakraborty