by Manash BhattacharjeeI learnt from your poems how To wait upon death And how waiting is a game as Treacherous as death. I learnt from you how the root Of waiting is grasped in despair And that there is no despair More deceitful than hope. Waiting helped you gather those Roses along the way Which grow only for travellers Who walk the loneliest road. You kept those roses as mementos Of your nights when gunshots Would remind you of the difficulty To make love under the moon. As you carried the landscape on Your shoulders and looked For your address in the clouds The enemy laughed. They thought you will grow weary From repeating the same lines of loss But they didn’t know those without a home Are always hungry for memory.
Manash Bhattacharjee is a poet and scholar living in New Delhi.