How….. to what pulls you, this city
through its veins, through its roots
spread, grown chaotic
its shame, its id … obstinance
makes you feel as one, like a king
like a baby back in her womb
its passion, its senses from strong
to maudlin, the soft deceit, cowardice
veiled in cacophonic apologies
its deep rooted care surfaces languid,
lingers longer than necessary
This modern city born occidental
free thinkers, churned with Durga, Kali
allegorical and godless at the same instance,
halted suddenly in its tracks unbelieving
stumbling as a high bred woman raped,
sari torn hanging around her bruises
limping on high stiletto heels, eyes defiant
Is it the indo-gothic arcades jammed with
ramshackle colours in abstract lines
dusted vibrant… mad rush
under a hot morning sun
sweat dripping, people hanging
from door rails on dented tin buses
zig zag, here there, crowds swell
there are patterns underlying mercurial
Or by-lanes escaping from the noise
winding by a banyan thick trunked
ageless into the quiet of
green venetian blinds wide
facing oblong above curved terraces
half hidden by rustling leaves
wrought iron gates intricate
Safe haven to middle class genteel
matriarchs with translucent skin,
oiled long black hair glistening
speak in measured sweet syllables
smell of fish lightly spiced, burnt
with mango, wrapped in banana leaf
mobile hawker in the afternoon heat
hanging, gives his mournful cry
on a deserted street
Its anglo mixed quarters still show signs
of lounge music, pish pash
neo-classical structures lining alleys
cut up with stairs false ceilings
second hand vinyl stores tucked between
butchers, tailors, bakeries
khansamas bred in adjacent
saracen streets a little north where
live descendants of Wajid Ali
Or cobbled lanes snaking through
red brick warehouses by the river
hide traces of lost commerce and order
painted clay gods, hanging wires
in dark corners, where ghosts of the past
mix easily with the living, a continuum
slowly over time disappearing
With each passing year its stories
its secrets….its very soul
retreating into buried crevices
into a darkness invisible to many
other than a few who, like you,
know where to look
Is this how it pulls you….this city?
~ Jit Bhattacharya
Kolkata, India