Who says words are like butterflies?
I see invisible shackles.
The clerk behind his tired keyboard
fumbling and slipping,
still aspiring, cannot overcome
the daily repetitions of slavery.
Once a poet had begged the skylark
To share its purity!
But purgation is as unknown
as is love to the woman
who stands alone by the old cinema,
her glittery attire playing up
her cracked and ugly face.
Yet I never give up.
In raindrops suspended on the arum,
by chance growing by the clogged drain,
attempting to hold the sky,
in the melodies of Gita Dutt
so handy now, enslaved
to smart-phones and Time's murky desires,
I look for the perfect word
to expurgate. In truth,
I search for the formless form
to unlatch your door of silence.
I am still searching for the perfect word
to open your door of silence.
Sravani Biswas is Associate Professor of English at the University of Tezpur, Assam.