IPSITA GANGULI

IPSITA GANGULI

PULWAMA

How temporary are our lives

Both the killer

And the Killed

Caught in a juncture of haplessness

And We

Sitting far away

Can only light candles

Or seek revenge

And They

Sitting on the High Pedestal

Talk of Lives not going waste

(When it already has)

Talk some more

Strike some deals

And show some strength

Maybe...

Maybe...

And in the meantime

The kin of the killer

Hails him as Martyr

And the kin of the Killed

Swallow down their Martydom in unshed tears

All the while

Someone else

Is planning

Some other bloodshed

Some other lives

Some other martyrs

Some more waste

Some more will seek revenge

Some more candles will be lit

Some more placards will be made

Some more will shout on Television

Some more emotions will go waste

What if

We all to pay a tribute to those

Who die in Waste

Do something for ourselves

Each of Us

The Kin

The Revenge seekers

The Candle lighters

What if

Each one of Us

Made ourselves better

Stoked a little more

Of our own Humanity

Developed Integrity

Realised Rhetoric

For what it's worth

And moved beyond

What if we tried

To do away

Consciously

Bit by bit

With the little lies

With our own selves

Stopped taking the easy way

And believed in doing it Right.

Everyday

Every opportunity

Every time

Then

Just maybe

Someday

We could do away with Waste

And make ourselves more Worthy

To live side by side

As worthy neighbours

Worthy Individuals

Worthy humans

In a worthy world

Only then maybe, just maybe

We can make ourselves

Worthy of the colossal sacrifice

And the worthless waste

Copyright ~ Ipsita Ganguli

WATER

My Blood has curled

Into a dry mess

It does not flow

Within my veins anymore

It is now colour of

Dusty Ochre

My skin is parched

Breaking into white flake

And dusty wounds

My lips have long run dry...

O Water

That made the earth

And made my body

And bathed my soul

O Water

That cleansed me

That soothed me

That kept me alive

O Thirst

That now overpowers me

That chokes me

Till I faint

Now I know

How My waste

Has wasted

The very souce

With which Life began

And I dream

Of gurgling streams

Of shoals of fish

Of tidal waves

And blue seas

A drop of Water

A drop to drink

A drop of Life

A drop of Life

To be Alive

Copyright~ Ipsita Ganguli

AN EVENING WALK

A fistful of earth,

Soft,

Tender,

It slips through...

Dust to dust...

This eternal thruth,

Where we will both be

Someday...

But today,

I see your face;

In the sunrays,

Reflected

In the puddle.

The smell of

earth; after

a fresh shower.

The branches are reflected too

In the sundipped puddle;

And I can almost see your smile...

That green expanse

Of paddy fields

Submerged in watery mud

Waiting to be harvested.

The feel of tender clay

Green Brown ... earthy

The blades stand tall...

A black bull

Stares... defiant, bold, dogged

Yet he moves in grace

And I remember you

With a shrug, and a shake

Of my head,

Only you may know

My sigh

The leaves rustle,

The sky turns inky,

The orange now is a dot

Another sunset...

The rustle of your feet

On dry leaves leave

An imprint;

No dust storm can ever blow

This imprint away

From me

Copyright ~

IPSITA GANGULI