Death Almighty!

On 31st March, a tragedy befell Kolkata – my beloved City of Joy, as an unfinished bridge, the Vivekananda flyover, collapsed over a busy road, killing many.While some others are severely injured and some still trapped under the debris. The pain and sadness of the entire incident and the consequent shock and uneasiness that gripped me gave birth to this piece.

 

The bridge collapsed,

And so did many lives –

Crushed under the debris,

Oblivious of their fate.

 

Death doesn’t discriminate.

It visits both the rich and the poor –

Death’s unwanted attention

Showered upon the innocent

And the unsuspecting,

Busy in the humdrum of life.

 

A fatal accident,

A tragedy,

One stroke,

And all’s over.

 

And we – we spend our lives

Worrying,

Contesting,

Lamenting,

Complaining –

Ignorant.

 

While Death

Watches over us,

Smirking smugly,

Stroking his diabolical sceptre,

Laughing at the futility of human toil

And the vanity of human aspirations.

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet

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Poison Ivy

Don’t look, don’t look my child,

It’s a pathetic spectacle –

The demise of the big blue marble.

Crash.

Tumble.

Burn.

Do you hear it whimper?

Listen, but don’t look.

 

Sip it, sip it.

Sip the red of my toil.

How does the wine taste?

That’s my blood you drink.

Do you choke now?

Why do you look so bewildered, my child?

It’s but the remnants of

What you haven’t devoured already.

 

Treason, you cry?

No, I haven’t deceived you.

It’s karma hitting you back,

Ascended on its blue-eyed unicorn,

Smirking as it strangles you.

Why do you beg for mercy now?

I told you not to look;

You disobeyed.

Here’s the fruit of your transgression.

 

You stumble and reach for the door.

‘Oh, but it is secured.’

It is locked forever, my child;

You are trapped.

There’s horror in your eyes.

The poison is spreading now.

I sit across the room

On my cactus throne,

Tossing down the whiskey,

Pleased to see you suffer.

 

The countdown has begun,

You grow weak,

And as the clock stops

And unleashes its demonic fangs,

You explode.

There are bits and pieces of you

Scattered all over the floor.

I crouch down

And pick up what amuses me the most.

It’s your darkened heart.

It’s all I ever wanted.

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet

Mother

From the memories of childhood impressed upon my mind,

I recall the day we had our first disagreement.

I was three.

Mother, you looked so beautiful!

‘I hate you.’

I scribbled on the drawing book

In my big, obscure handwriting.

You nodded and walked away.

Was it a tear I saw at the corner of your eye?

It was a long time ago.

 

I turn to see you smiling,

Reliving the day with me.

You are aging now, Mother.

My beautiful mother – wrinkled and freckled.

A sudden flash of thoughts;

Insecurity creeps in.

I was naive then, I know now.

 

‘Stay with me forever, Mother’;

I lunge at you like my childhood self.

You gently pat my back –

With a hint of tears in your eyes

And a rejected, desolate sadness

Etched across your beautiful face.

 

The tears were there then;

The tears are here still.

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet

Namaste!

Thank you for visiting the page.

It’s been a dear dear journey for me on Instagram with my one month old, infantile presence as an IG poet; and trust me, it has been a great experience. I got the opportunity to learn a lot from the popular profiles, and also to collaborate with some of the most amazing poets on IG. It’s been a terrific start for a shy, introvert girl like me and I would like to thank you all for supporting me in this endeavor, as I take baby steps towards my goal.

Thank you so very much.

Cheers!

Namaste and greetings to all fellow Indians and my global friends. xoxo

~ S.B.

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image source: Internet

Source: http://static3.crated.com/GSKliGjYEUOh_uM_5x6VPW5xghs=/fit-in/960x960/filters:quality(90)/crated/thumbs/art/2015/07/22/3a46d78648cb13e8e918574f91a2c4f7/960.jpg

An Open Letter from Every Other Girl in the World

Dear society,

You have been influencing my life for quite some time now. Everything I do, everything I say, is kept on a platter for you to judge. Sometimes, even when not required. No, I am not being critical of you. I am too diminutive to question your credibility. I just want you to go easy on me.

Yes, I make mistakes; and quite often, truth be told. But isn’t it quite natural for me to deviate from my determined path every now and then, just like my chromosomal counterpart? Then why be so harsh on me? Don’t get me wrong – I am not accusing you! But don’t you think the weight of your judgement is quite unbalanced? I need freedom too. I want to breathe a critique-free air too.

Don’t tag me as ‘easily available’ when I wear hot pants, skirts or dresses; I wear them not to please you. Don’t tell me I am trying to attract unwanted attention; I wear them for my comfort. Don’t tell me I am not appropriately dressed or not decent enough; I very well know how to guard my decency. My clothes are not a mirror to my character!

Don’t eye me suspiciously if I have a tattoo or two on my body; I may be the most respectful woman you know. Don’t look at me disapprovingly if I have my navel pierced; it may well be a secret fancy of an otherwise unadventurous girl. Don’t judge me if I go out with a boy, he may be just a friend.

Don’t you think am judged too much?

If my hair’s dyed purple, it doesn’t mean I have gone wayward; if I party on Saturdays, it doesn’t mean I am careless; if I am outspoken, it doesn’t mean I am coarse.

I am much more beyond your tags.

On the flipside of it, don’t tell me am timid if I don’t speak out my mind quite often, I might well be rebellious. Don’t tell me am old-fashioned and boring just because I dress simply. My clothes are not the deciding factor for my nature. Don’t tell me am fragile just because I am quiet; I may have a volcano ready to erupt inside me. I may appear simple and boring, but don’t make the mistake of judging a book by its cover; I may have a spark inside me ready to erupt into a light-emitting fire!

Don’t tell me am not capable, just because YOU think am not strong, I may be able to endure more than an average man. Give me a chance to prove myself. Don’t be incredulous of me. Don’t think of me as something which needs fervent protecting and restrictions. Don’t think of me as some ‘thing’, consider me as someone! Don’t bind me with your rules and restrictions. I am a bird who wishes to fly. I do not like to be caged – it may be a golden cage, but I don’t like it. Don’t domesticate me!

Don’t underestimate me! I can be a doctor, I can be a journalist, I can be an engineer, or even a plumber, electrician, mechanic or even a wrestler. I have the skills, I have the brains, I have the strength. Don’t suffocate me with your assumptions.

I can be soft and warm in the face of a mother, I may be the forgiving and compassionate Mother Teresa, but don’t take me for granted. I am Kali, I am Durga – I am Rani Laxmibai as well! I can be fierce if need be.

I can be anything but a victim of your censure. Don’t create barriers for me. Instead of confining your daughters, educate your sons. Instead of controlling your daughters, civilise your sons. The basic biological fundamentals of your daughters are not much different than your daughters – just a difference of ‘Y chromosome’. One chromosomal difference aggravated to a difference of two worlds – a man’s world and a woman’s world, all because of you, my dear society!

Don’t call me a man-hating feminist if I say all this, I just fight for my own freedom.

This is a humble request to you, the overpowering society and its inhabitants: Let me live my existence and not just breathe through it. Set me free, set me free, set me free!

 

Yours truly,

The Average Girl Next Door

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet

 

 

Source : http://www.thehindu.com/multimedia/dynamic/01785/13mp_Circus_2_jpg_1785691g.jpg

Circus of Emotions

Pushing trepidation out of my mind,

I stand on the precipice of ambitions;

I gaze at the firmament

Like a bird before its first flight –

Watching,

Waiting

For the precise moment.

Que Sera Sera!

 

My heart plays a tune of its own

As my passions dance to its rhythm.

One, two, three –

I take a deep breath!

Sanguinity is knocking on the door;

Endearing voices in the ear

Whisper,

Que Sera Sera!

 

Let me be an eagle –

The monarch of the skies.

I spread my wings

And lunge into the heavenly enormity,

Into the wilderness of fancies

And feral dreams.

I am a pilot of my own purpose

Surrendering to the impulses

Letting all else be –

Que Sera Sera!

 

I am now amidst the clouds,

Exhilaration pulsing through my veins;

I look down to see the world applaud,

Triumph and joy superseding all else.

Carpe diem – my mind screams!

Here Que Sera Sera is the dominant scheme –

In this circus of emotions.

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet

 

Source: https://b00kreader.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/wpid-wp-1433471091530.jpeg

Adieu Stranger!

Hush Hush.

We do not have time

In our fast moving lives

To follow our true desires

And love’s magnificent fire.

In this mechanical life

It is lust that takes over,

Standing smugly on love’s pyre

As we see our affections

Despondently retire.

 

Hush Hush.

Let me kiss you!

As our lips sync and tongues meet,

Doing their own little dance

Of gaiety and fulfilment

In their own moment of grace

And perfect symphony;

We submit to each other

Wholly and faithfully.

 

Hush Hush.

Let me bite that lip of yours,

As full as the ocean,

Providing joy in its own way

And satisfying the carnal desire.

Let me take in

That one erotic drop of blood

That escaped the sinews

Of your lip and

Let it seep into my hungry soul!

 

Hush Hush.

Do not make noise.

Let us embrace our natural forms

As Adam and Eve did

In their world of love and joy

Where there was no shame,

No consciousness,

Blissful ignorance.

Where Man and Woman

Knowingly gave breath

To their natural skins, natural bodies

Natural beauty –

The primitive sense of existence.

 

Hush Hush.

Let me touch you,

And feel your beauteous form

Against me,

As we unite in this holy fire

Of our lust’s being and desire.

Our bodies –

As they accustom to each other

And accommodate,

We pant and moan

And realise

That this is it –

The ultimate of worldly pleasures!

 

Hush Hush.

It is morning now.

And as the sun

Acquaints us

With its early beams,

So does sensibility!

And our brains

Tame our hearts

As we rush off

To our lives of monotony,

Forgetting the night

Of passion and ecstasy;

Seeing each other as strangers.

You go your way, I’ll go mine!

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet