Moods, Moments আর প্রেম – বিন্দু By Supatra Sen

That Celestial Sonata

Often I wonder
Whether I’ve ever been
Really and truly loved
As in novels or films
As lofty…as towering…
When grandmom would wash my clothes
Despite a nagging cold
Was that love…
Or our man Friday would defer
His annual leave
To make sure
That festivities of Vasant Panchami
Went unhampered
Dada would befriend the vendors
For the best fruits
And to Nahoum’s for the finest bake
Love…was it ?
Ma would save my books
All the copies with my name written
In child-like artistry
Every bit of paper where I had
Marked with an abstract stroke
Love it was then…
Father would let life flow
Without words or advice
Let her choose…let her learn…let her fly
Detachment… or love
I wonder…
Mentors would command perfection
From mathematics to embroidery
Handwriting to public speaking
Teachers’ nature must be
Or love…
I return…
After a long long nothingness
The arm-chair
On the balcony sways to the gentle breeze
The whispering leaves of the ‘gulmohar’
Create a mystic architecture
On the petal carpeted floor
Of the centurion home
My old faithfuls chase each other’s tails
Conjuring some fantasy figure
Out of their own shadows
The fragrance of old books
A dust-coated transistor
And a figure in the mirror
Lost …yet found
All that I could have held close…
Deep within me
A voice says
You are loved…
Loved like no other
And the Universe orchestrates
That celestial sonata…
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