ballygunge, late afternoon

rain thru soft sunlight
shone thru the gold-struck greens of
palms and potted ferns

an empty residential lane curved and curled off into silence and separation, rain falling like a mist, a transparent curtain drawn between the tumble jumble of the city and this house of solitude and seclusion. thunder rumbles in the distance, the birds cheep and chirp and chatter. in the gentle pitter patter of this place there is no talk. the fan above whirrs and sends a spin and a shiver through the air. empty tea cups sit on the corners of tables haphazardly while shoes lie at the entrance in a neat row be they leather plastic open closed disintegrating or shiny like a happy puppy’s nose. this gravel driveway, these big old metal gates, this place out of sight. this hideaway, peace and quiet hidden down a few lanes, a few anonymous streets.

it’s like i’m always saying, you spend so much time with the ugly, you forget and are surprised to be reminded about just how beautiful bengal can be...