The Last Rites

by Madhumita Ghosh

It is a cremation
one of its kind
I am not sad
have seen the inert remains
of a spirit long lost and dead
weeping in my heart
begging to be released
I stand calm
a secret joy fluttering its wings
eager to be released
so it can soar
The smoke rises
curling up, heavenwards
the essence of a being
gnashing and gnawing at my heart for long
now forever departed
frees me of a bondage
a dead lead I have borne all the while
I gather my flying hair with my hands
make a tight knot behind
my eyes now free from the looming lurking spectre
I look ahead
and walk briskly,
out of the crematorium,
free as smoke.

Woman

by Madhumita Ghosh

Incense burns
conch shells resonate in the fragrant air
the old tree by the holy river
worshipped again, stands tall
curious birds, flummoxed,
fly around the alien figure
looking for their homes
in the arms of the draped tree woman
Not so far away
she writhes and groans, alone
scalded, burning flesh
spreading no stench around

Holi

by Madhumita Ghosh

Colours flew,
as the rainbow descended,
hugging the greens,
vibgyor rode on winds,
the sun refracted
glittered in eyes,glowing, merry-making,
throwing care into the winds...
reason locked away
indoors,
bhaang-laced milk
flowed down prisoner throats,
free for a day,
earthly Maenads shaking locks
in glee...
a little hand is held out,
from out a threadbare dress,
coloured,
with stains of being lost to the world,
barely covering sprouting breasts,
shrunk legs tottering
in quest of a morsel...
Joyous hands redden her face,
green pink and red-faced,
she retreats
a joker, hungry.