Journal : CALCUTTA DIARY, 1985 …


There … crammed in dark spaces

They huddle without love

In their angry images …

Here no one dreams

Just wants and thinks

Of wresting the meagre

And damn the others in –

Own parents and siblings.


It’s the world of the poor

With noises many

In the slums of the city

With cubbyholes to each


Where impotence lords

Over the women and kids

Who have no hope

And nothing to beat

Except laughters forced

Empty, mirthless

With nothing to hold

Hunger, dead men and idleness

Where children cry for ever more

Of simple needs and food ” sure ”

While adults think of worlds away

From unsure rations and bad tea

Sexual lees and cigars cheap.

*    *    *


Soft voices float in a pub elite

Over protean faces, strange links

A world cool and high, busy cooking

Among waiters dressed

Sellers and iced drinks

Well attired ladies and gentlemen

Brooding, whisper in festive silence

Precipitate their leisure, build up pines

In deep seats plush and semi dark confines

Look through the walls of tinted glass

The crowd, cars loud and the din barred

Mobbed by heat, speed, sweat and scars …

*    *    *


Back home, the evening spoils

Over argued nothings

Matters expressed

As in, ” i’m just saying ”

I seethe needless

But keep the regard intact

Instead, arch over to scratch

The unreachable on my back.

In between, the smoke seems tasteless

The heart looks dark and drinks depressed

While the peeping moon full hovers

Through the window

On this day disempowered

In the night about our bed

As she moons holding me

As of old … resurrected.


*   *   *                      *   *   *


2 thoughts on “Journal : CALCUTTA DIARY, 1985 …

    1. I loved the place and, even now, sometimes ache with the desire to spend some time there !

      Thanks for going through some of the impressions on my mind. Gratitude for the likes.

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