She was elder sister of splendor,
Her wings were docked in Attic,
She used to put those on in night
To glide over
Roof top sky.
We hand-few amongst the thorp-lads
Could get her glimpse at times.
To describe her beauty,
No word would be absolutely righteous.
There’s no lexis, in fact,
Prettiness was name of those
Who walked like ducklings by her feet.
Year after marriage, her in-laws burnt her alive.
Still just two steps it is
To reach shyamatala from kankurpara.
There sites their old house.
Whenever at night there is moonlight
She’s visible:
Shubhra-Di stands calm resting her hands on parapet wall.
Fire! There’s fire everywhere!
On her body!
On her cascading hair, engulfing flames of fire!
Shubhra-Di looks indifferently, her vision is stretched
Off far.
Sorry.
There’s a little wrong in sketching.
Every day she doesn’t look calm.
Sometimes she flies flies
and flies inside burning apparel….
she flies till her wings get completely burnt to part off.
