Dissolved

December 3, 2007 | Filed Under Poetry, Travel, life's answers 

You can find me wandering at Rabindra Sadan.
Countless trains will come and go.
Not me.
I am not a train, neither a traveler, nor a passerby.
I have come home, into the shadow of poetry,
I seek refuge from the world of people.
Into the arms of a poet that God loved.

It isn’t a metro station.
It’s a giant painting. a painting that is alive.
The trains come and go, the people change.
Sometimes it is crowded, sometimes it isn’t.
It’s a painting that allows you in,
Let’s you be a part of the landscape, And let’s you go…
When you want to.
Not me, I am not you, I am forever here.

I swim past the words, the waves, the hills, the trees.
I swim in the rivers.
I disintegrate, and integrate as words.
The sketches, they imitate my form,
They know who I am, they smile at me.

And the people, they stumble, against me,
They walk past me without recognizing who I am.
They don’t know me, they have forgotten.
I feel offended but I forgive them easily.
They ask me for directions.
Of the outside world,
But I can’t help them, I never could.

It has been years but no one’s asked
For the direction to a poem.
No one has asked.
If someone did, I could take them there,
And show them my worth.
Sigh!

But do come to Rabindra Sadan,
Pay me a visit.
I will be waiting for you.
Right across the lines that say  -

An unknown flower in a strange land speaks to the poet: “Are we not of the same soil, my lover?”

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