This incredible piece of collaboration emerged through an initiative of artsforwardindia, initiated by Paramita Saha. The evocative artistry is from Reya Ahmed.
Calcutta - A Lover’s Epitaph
.
There is no other place for me.
Calcutta's streets have been mapped by my heart,
and I can stop anywhere and tell you stories
of when I was a child, and the city a youth,
of when I grew up - and the city refused to.
.
But in its heart now, lie crumbling memories
of all who grew tired of waiting, for
its mornings to burst out into light -
even as I sit on the kerb and sip tea
from earthen teacups grafted from its steam.
.
I am still a lover, though in the shadow
of its decaying facades and tired cathedrals,
waiting for its glory to emerge from its cemeteries,
the way a strand of grass cracks open a gravestone.
I have invested too much of myself into this city,
into the bloodstream of its roads,
into the pores of its eccentricities -
too much pain, too much sweat,
too much semen, too much poetry -
to now say - I abandon you.
But I despair of this city, this lover -
doesn't it owe me anything?
But it lurches from one wound to another,
as if life's expositions are lesser
if not written in scars.
.
Now I feel abandoned.
The city's faithlessness is now not of the senses,
it is a disembowelment of my belief.
And if in that deceit lies its definition,
than it is also the epitaph
to my irreparably broken heart.
Our relationship with the city we have grown up in or know intimately is nothing less than a love affair. It is capable of bringing us ecstasy (ek- tuh- see) and disappointments just the way a lover can. Calcutta for me is that loved one, whose every pore, contour of her waist, the shadows beneath her breasts, the way the wind blows through her hair - these are things I know and love and look forward to. But it can still be the crotchety old maid who has not had her dreams fulfilled, and is now living a life of frustration- and in turn frustrates us.
And then, When we can't break away from a city inspite of everything, we have no choice but to live inside the devastation of our own broken hearts.
This is celebrating the inclusion of this poem in the fabulous anthology “Rivers Going Home”, edited by Ashwani Kumar, and published by Dibyajyoti Sarma of Red River Press.
As the blurb states -
“The poems in this anthology originated from ‘Poetry Live’ — a curated experience on social media platform, Instagram, where poetry readings were led by the Indian Novels Collective and Mumbai’s much-loved bookstore Kitab Khana. Poet and critic Arundhathi Subramaniam, who inaugurated the series on 31 March 2020 with a reading of The Tent by Rumi, described the initiative as, “an act of faith in poetry in troubling times”. Given this background, it was natural for poets in the anthology to shine through this ‘immaculate choreography’ in verse — miracles and mirages of poetry waiting to happen, now and in the future.”
Arundhathi Subramaniam, the redoubtable poet, describes this collection thus -
“This joyously diverse collection is both celebration and resistance. It is testament to fellowship at a time of transition and disquiet, a commitment to stay connected—across the divides of culture, geography and language—and a tribute to lives lost but not forgotten.”
Calcutta - A Lover's Epitaph