kalboishakhi is here.
the air will clear, the clouds will fall,
clouds will move, so will trees.
suddenly still and suddenly violent
winds will fly, so will the utensils my grandma left on the terrace, the sarees, pajamas and then the clothesline if it hasn't given way. my sister is little and thinks she came from the blue star, i am little too and want to feel the kalboishakhi sweep me away. but children dont stray on terraces during the storm.
we get swept away.
we imagine where landing in fairytales caught in the hurricane. we deliciously feared kalboishakhi. closed our eyes but loved the rage.
the wind would wind around wild...
then
it settles
the windows that wouldnt close would have broken panes, and we would wind around the teracce to look for frayed rose calyxes, alo mashi's red saree on our terrace and my grandfather's dhuti on the tv antenna,
and fantasicing the sounds and feeling intimate with the skies.
sucking on the tamarind seed long after the skin has been eaten.
1 comment:
brilliant! forget what i said about framing. that all occurs to you when you see it on one of those viewing softwares.
the aspect ratio should be kept exactly as it appears on the blog.. the second one gave me a vertigo.
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