The
Unfinished Man
He dreams about a blue house
With a red roof
And mangoes that burn
Like hundred watt bulbs
In his backyard
He
has been dreaming about them
Ever since he
banged his head
Against a cross-beam
In his father’s garage
(He had not reached
puberty)
He has had several
accidents since:
One very nearly
claimed his left eye
His dream has not changed though
It is always the blue house with the red roof
And mangoes that glitter in the backyard
He dreams about
a blue house
Where the night
disrobes
In a slow strip tease. Where dawn
Slips silently under bolted doors spilling
Her load of
gold-edged mail
Where fear does
not coil, uncoil
In the belly
Like a thousand
vipers
Where shadows do not
cast
Dark glances in
doorways at dusk
Where clocks do
not echo
The heart’s
silence
Ticking away into
oblivion
Where mangoes are in season
All the mellifluous
year round
Ah sometimes his mind goes blank
He fights the dark in the dark
Hoping for something drastic
A blow to the head perhaps
To jump-start his brain
Tonight he is fighting again
Against the din of consciousness
The dogs are stripping the night
To the bone. The flower in his brain
Is withered
The mangoes are slowly becoming stone
Shimanta Bhattacharyya
More poetry:
Page Two.
Page three
Gallery
Home
