rabindra sarobar, south kolkata

the lake hides behind walls, buildings, busy streets, and even once inside the compound it hides behind crowds of folk out for their morning walks, breathing exercises, laughing yoga clubs. here you find an old man with eyes and mouth covered, breathing with true concentration; there, a circle of men swinging their arms behind their backs and clapping in almost-perfect unison; yonder, two young lovers out early, holding hands on the lake’s edge under the early morning shade of a dusty tree. a blooming tree drops its fragrant blossoms onto the concrete as well as a large pile of trash—a beauty wasted. piles of unknown organic waste scattered here and there on the footpath, pecked at by crows. sleeping dogs. strange dark growths in the pond can be seen, there, under the lilypads. every so often there is an unidentifiable bird, along with the crows. it is beautiful, a pale grey with a long beak for the fishes and long elegant legs. a man runs by you panting. you glance into the lake, there are insects skating on the surface. you cannot spot the fish, but you know they are there hiding somewhere... maybe under the strange dark growths. the rowing club in their incredible modern-age contraptions (can these even really be called boats anymore??) seem to glide over the water. people turn to stare at the newly-formed female rowing team, but lose interest after a while. they are all absorbed in their little exercises, regimes, pelvis-rolling sessions. the one out of place, with no set regimen, i leave wishing that the beauty that seems so very much on the verge in this place, reaching out from under the dirt and strange growths, could be brought somehow by someone into a bloom...