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Kushal Poddar

Kushal Poddar



After The Fiesta Ends


I have no inkling to whom and what,

albeit I bid adieu to something, whisper,

"Ave."


During the first few days once the fiesta ends

slow mornings fly in, chirp, and five different 

chords I can hear, miss innumerable ones.


At one point of time the chirrups continue 

albeit within a jelly-flood of silence.

I cannot fathom those anymore, hear the blue.


I dive from my edge of our balcony.

On the Hemingway days I drown, fall

through the bubbles of thoughts and white noise,

reach the bottom and meet the cacophony.

Bow those are one, soft, viscid.

On the other days I soar, fly too close to the Sun.



About the Author: Although Kushal Poddar has authored ten books, the latest being 'A White Can For The Blind Lane', and his works have been translated into twelve languages, and he has been a sub-editor of Outlook magazine and the editor of Words Surfacing, and he does some illustrations and sketches for various magazines if you ask him, he will say that he gardens a growing up daughter.


 

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