Imagining Varanasi
Dear Varanasi, Kashi, Avimukta, Anandavana, Rudravasa I don’t know how to name you. I don’t know which name is dear to you. I have never been to you. But I have endless questions to ask you. If you are Avimukta- will you let me live in your abode? If you are Kashi- will you light the clay lamp of my heart, half-damp and doused in the storm of life? If you are Varanasi- will you throw light to the fertile lands of the world which grow the crops of love- long lost and rotten? If you are Anandavana- will you let the clouds burst into droplets of hope over the starving leaves of desire? Will you give me the bliss of Moksha? If you are Avimukta- will you give me the divine strength to not let lose myself to anger and to the disgrace where Kalyug conspires me to destroy? If you are Rudravasa- will you let me arrive to see the eternal? Will you assimilate my sorrow in the supreme and transform it into un-materialistic joys? Will you let me cremate all my darkness in your Mahashamshana- so it could never reincarnate to reach me? If yes, then let me embark to quest my soul in order to unite to its lover- divinity. There are more questions I want to ask you and I will embark to know you I will embark to reach knowledge I will embark to reach you
A Sketch
You are a sketch, drawn and hidden away inside a book in the shelf no one reads, moulded in dust I open it in perplexity, when windows and doors are closed all deep asleep but I morbid awake as I turn the leaves, your face appears like a sudden pearl inside an oyster; waves rise as huge as mountains in your eyes which drenches me. Your voice reaches me, with your lips stiff your bearded face makes me remember someone, unknown with his unacceptable nonexistence. You are a sketch, drawn and hidden away, inside a book, in me deep, forever, which none can read.
Mrittika Das
Mrittika Das is an aspiring poet, pursuing her higher studies.