by Ranjana Banerjee

Created on: March 27, 2009   Last Updated: June 09, 2009

The song you once sang

It was in Autumn-

when the cirrus clouds rafted along the blue sky

and the butterflies trailed

the fragrance of unknown bloom

I was passing my six, stepping on seven

It was Durga Pooja, the big event

when all the busy bees of our clan-

the Doctor, the Engineer, the bookish Professor

and their busy for nothing politician boy

or the would be poet (who ended up in marrying an off-caste girl)

and all their nosey spouses tingling in their gold

(eying each other to catch the odds)

and three more off springs of those succulent pairs,

including us-

she in her sweet sixteen and I, the ponytail girl

flocked at my Grandma's house.

You- surely not any of our kin

but a guest from some far away land

where concrete towered to hide the green

I could not remember your name nor your face

But your silhouette rises

up in my mind

whenever I hear that song you once sang

without knowing then what it meant

or for whom it was sung.

It happened like this-

one misty morning

you were walking on grass

in my Grandma's backyard

sponging off the morning dew

with your bare feet

then you spotted me there

and you told me the strangest thing

of our sphere

"The grass can talk, only a few can hear"

and with that

you became my Magic Man

(I was too young to know, I was only a media)

we stooped over the bed of white sheulies

and raced each other to collect the most

the milky white flowers,

with a wisp of orange at their end -

left their sweet fragrance on my hands

and I tucked your fingers wherever you went

to explore wild rose bush or to spot a bird's nest.

then one morning she came out for me

I rushed her to meet my newest friend

who could sing and make things with coconut frond

and those are the fewest to mention the least

she blushed and glowed in that twilight shine

and looked so beautiful I couldn't take off my eyes.

Then she became the regular to walk with us

shoving me aside with some trick or task

then the last day of our stay

at that autumn fest

I gathered the flowers in the fold of my dress.,

you sang that song,

in your deep down voice -

she hummed with you

while I took that in my heart

without knowing it would stay there

forever -

for no reason why

I tarried towards you balancing my gift

while you exchanged your flowers

with a mystic smile

I jerked off the contents I cared so much

keeping the stain on my dress to last

and I cried for what nobody knew

for the dress so pretty pink while unmarred

or the pinprick inside of my dented heart ?

That was the end of our happy time in there

you vanished to the land my Magic Man

where towers grow

and we never heard of you.

I saw her gazing up at night

to spot the stars that you shared with us

then the flowers she pressed inside her book

got crispy and brown - she forgot you

she started afresh

I too grew up

with lots to do

but the song once you sang

my Magic Man-

bonded me with you.

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