Sunday, November 1, 2020





A Dark Sob



in the farthest corner,

Of the dark musty room...

Sat an uncanny shadow,

whimpering and sobbing...


In tatters, in tears…

Her bony face hidden

in her skeletal palms

In despair...

Her ribs

knocking against her knees...

As she drew her legs,

in a tight knot,

close to her chest.

The nauseating reek of death

Pervaded the room...

It used to be a cheerful,

Sunny, bustling home,

Not so long ago...

The pestilence

Had killed all her dear ones

They were taken

One after the other

by the cursed disease.

She had spent

sleepless nights,

tending to their dying bodies...

trading her life

with the contagion

in exchange of the last comfort

she could provide them.

How could she

leave them to die?

Though it was a losing battle

to begin with ...

It wasn't a choice at all.

She remained with the dead...


And dying with them.

But where were they,

when the pestilence claimed her?

They were nowhere to be seen.

The ether,

that had escaped

her putrid mouth,

couldn't leave...

It sulked... And stayed...


It floated down

to her favourite corner

and huddled there...

with empty eyes.

She bemoaned her lost life...

Her lost ones...

Death had released them all

But her...

She lingered

in the bedroom...

Wearing a mask...

Still believing

that her family was

exercising that new found fad

called ‘social distancing’…

it seems,

it applied to blood ties too!

She honestly believed,

they would be back soon...

That the sun would return

to the bedroom windows

The birds would

Chirp on its sills...

And the darkness

would be gone!

Little did she know

that her house

was now called ‘haunted’!

She was to remain

in that musty darkness

with death and its reek.

The living would avoid it

Even the dead

would visit no more.

She was cursed to isolation,

for she deserved to be punished…

She had loved too much...

Hoped too much...

Too long...

too deep...for her own good.

(c) Antara Banerjee, 2020





Trust Me



The most precious

and abundant

giveaway of nature

is found in all places

that remain untouched

by human avarice...


In the claws

Of the hungry lioness

who refrains from her prey,

a pregnant doe,

in whose torn belly

she finds

an unborn child...

At times,

It flows

from the breasts

Of a medic,

who nestles

the child

of a dead enemy

close to her bosom,

and nurses it to life

in the middle of

a raging war...

It lies

in the coffin of the dead

over which

green saplings grow... the hardened earth

softened by

showers of monsoon rain

In the song of the cuckoo

In the wake up call

Of the alarm clock...

There is love

in the aroma of

freshly baked bread the cool swig

of water

that quenches

a parched gut...

In the air that

blows the

fragrance of

the mountain blossoms

to the villages

at the foothills...

Trust me,


the most precious

and abundant

giveaway of nature

is found in all places

that remain untouched

by human avarice....

(C) Antara Banerjee




An Ode To My Readers


I rather appreciate

your patience

I ramble too much…

Just like Vincent…

I am deluded and pained

I might bite off your ears too!

(Van Gogh bit off his fiance’s ears)

The swirly, sizzling sunflowers

Are difficult to bear

I do not know

to what consequence my ink flows…

There is no peace, no comfort,

Not for a single moment,

But I am glad you still bear on…

This is an ode to you

For once, thankfully,

It is not about me.

I keep very busy of late

documenting my insanity

but my disjointed songs are for you

I am tired…

But my pens remains relentless

Slashing, seeking and slaying

the ogres of Dante’s hell…

I feel like a creature of hell myself


But you never cease to indulge me still…

This is an ode to you

my readers, my friends!

You are god’s gifts to me

Keep that love,

I am going to need it

Till the end.


© Antara Banerjee




ANTARA BANERJEE is best known for her two books, 'The Goddess in Flesh' and 'To be a Woman'. Recipient of the prestigious Sanmarg Aparajita Award 2019 as a Young Achiever for her contribution in the field of literature, she is Masters in Image and Communication from Goldsmiths College, London and a graduate from the Presidency College of Kolkata. Apart from being a novelist, she is also a poet in three languages. She writes verses in English, Bangla and Hindi. In a language that is marked by boldness and passion at the same time, she endeavours to transport her readers to a world that can only be described in words, a world that is shrouded in charming intrigue. Because, words can evoke imagination, that is constrained by nothing!


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