Thursday, April 26, 2018

Death Of Gulmohar~





I watched as ‘Summer’ fell with the
Glamourous April Kolkata rains last evening.
Beaded with the wind
The rains lashed the lanes…washed, cleansed
The sweat and dust of the city of joy.
The first drop fell giving way to
Thousand splinters quaking
The sanity of earth; a few
petals trembled on the Gulmohar tree
And shed as a requiem….;
Without understanding,
A frenzy bunch of Red-beaked parrots
Raised a babel; and settled on the tree-
   still lush with some ably strong red blooms…
What a grandly embroidered landscape it was!
After the rains stopped,
I skipped down the stairs to the garden,
ran up to the tree
Sat under it …
A pleasant night was spreading vast over the cooler Kolkata.
Summer is not a myth, nor are the nor’westers--
the wayward, irresponsible thunder-showers.
They come every year to convey mortality.
How strange is death!



Sometimes there is not much to write by way of a 'poem' but a recurrent thing/theme/object also wouldn't allow one to find peace until one gets it out of one's mind. Come summers, and as its time for the Gulmohar flowering, no matter where I am, a surfeit of 'Krishnachura' memories start playing in my head.

** Gulmohar tree- Flame tree.


8 comments:

  1. Does the death of these flames happen every year? How marvelous this poem, and the refreshment of rain "Beaded with the wind."

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  2. This whole poem is drenched in rain, and I find it refreshing, just as the streets of Kolkata are (I'm sure) after a downpour.

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  3. "The sweat and dust of the city and joy" really speaks to me. I love the trembling of the blooms on the Gulmohar tree. Beautiful imagery. My grandma and I used to lovbe the thunderstorms on summer afternoons. The way the ground smelled just before the first rains fell.

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  4. Lovely poem, the frenzy bunch of red-beaked parrots.

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  5. What a beautiful poem with an earthy honest feel about it with its observer seeing all around them; the rain, the earth, the tree, the birds and the poet herself in the midst of life itself.

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  6. I loved your poetic description of the storm and its aftermath. You took me there!

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  7. I am a Kolkatan by heart having spent the best part of my life in the city.The beautiful poem brought back fond memories during this part of the year.

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