Four Poems. by Adity Choudhury. Choudhury, Adity. Four Poems. Coldnoon: Travel Poetics 2.3 (2013): Web. Licensed Under:

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1 Four Poems by Adity Choudhury Choudhury, Adity. Four Poems. Coldnoon: Travel Poetics 2.3 (2013): Web. Licensed Under: "Four Poems" (by Adity Choudhury) by Coldnoon: Travel Poetics is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 22

2 Four Poems by Adity Choudhury Winter Warm woolen mittens and firesidefrom where burns the flame eternal in its promise of an ever harsh winter. There, an autowallah stands smoking a beedi. The madwoman sleeps at a corner carved out of the clothes she picks up in tatters. She speaks to herself, praying to Kali in a broken language. Some say she is as old as the goddess herself who in a fit of rage lost her faith. Old men sell things, their shops older than the Jama Masjid, now in shambles. Their wrinkles speak to me, each like streams etched in my mind. Someday they shall fade and become an ocean of leftovers. Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 23

3 A Song I had no name, but a number plate, chained hands and feet that defined me in the ships, carrying multitudes to the unknown Sea. Silence crept in, a giant octopus ready to swallow any voice of dissent. And, we the Men, sat with the women together, caring little of our caste. "Kalapani", my feared Love how ghastly was your song of depths unscathed that told me not to lose my pride, but to swallow it like doses of the medicine, born of the machine- it s taste bitter. And I cried. Chalo Jahaji! humein jana hain uss paar. I was a Man- all of 30, toiling away through the dawn of sweat, and dusk of opium-induced reverence towards my Mother, who sat all alone in the veranda of my little hut in that little village of Bihar, wondering what became of her youngest son. The vastness of the blue and the black I wanted to cross and leave but I feared I d die a Vagrant s death, whipped, slapped and condemned till the last breath of my little frame. Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 24

4 Muttering curses, I slowly left this void that lasted for a century far from the prying eyes, of the pages of History forgotten by time, but remembered by this soil, I could only sing my servitude. Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 25

5 I am Time. From the ruins of Mesopotamia, of Atlantis my mother, I am born. A long journey it has been and longer still must it beas I must change and age. Like the old bards of the East I carry a pipe full of tales, carried by the winds, in hushed whispers of the Ocean s waves. A happy soul is but a mystery to me for I sing this pain, unheard in vain. And before I greet you with open arms I ask myselfmust I make some room for you as well? Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 26

6 St. John in the Wilderness Here they rest in peace, finally. In this odd silence a thousand words sigh and fade away, like a river that has dried left alone, tongue tied. I like what I see and we speak in babbling madness to you and me. You are old, they say, even haunted perhaps, but this strange restlessness engulfs me in entirety. Am I frightened? Today, as we meet I go back in time to see you crying as you clutch your little one in your bosom for the last time. And he is silent as your grave looks at him, a tear-drop, now a memory. She joins him soon all of 27, young and childless on her own in the Wilderness. St. John, you smile at me as we listen. Worry not! you say for the Dead are now safe in my arms. I say nothing Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 27

7 taking in this softness, a caress. Four Poems Adity Choudhury p. 28