The Bridge
A frown appeared on Montu's brows. Just this morning, he heard about construction of a flyover. Another bridge that will widen the divide, he mused As he chewed on a dry chapati with water. Every election, the locals come And demand free rides, To the football stadium. A poor rickshaw puller that he is, With failing health, he muses at his destiny. Long ago, a fire had burned his dreams of a secure government job to ashes. Now another fire engulfs him In his heart Gradually spirialing him Towards a dark, mysterious tunnel.
The Stage
The stage was set. Lights were ready to come on. Curtains had already risen. One, Two, Three, Seconds ticked by. A ray of soft light fell on the screen Behind the table. A silhouette appeared. Still. Out ran a horrified man Shocked. Numbed. Scared. The audience gasped. A glittering object fell somewhere In the backstage. It wasn't intentional. Yet, it heightened the effect. A stronger light fell on the still body lying in the centre. The shocked man too fell dead. The curtains came down. Newspapers proclaimed: Dual Murder Shocks Audience
Chandrani Mukherjee
Chandrani Mukherjee is a school teacher by vocation and passion. Among her many interests, she enjoys reading and composing poems on a variety of experiences. In her opinion, poetry is a form self expression.