When time is ten

When time is ten,

A little respite from everyday chores,

I stand at the window,

Wiping droplets of toil,

with one end of saree,

I am awestruck to realize,

Never I thought of different livelihoods,

people pursue day in day out,

Boyhood disappears,

Pouring tea in cups,

with yell of haste in the background,

Bulging muscles with 'no rest' curse,

pulling van loaded with cement bags,

A distressed silence washing utensils,

in a space infested with mossy green,

Passionate speeches for alluring votes,

democracy at its best or just a façade?

Heaps of bananas, apples on Haruda's head,

Keluda's fish basket with his rattling of names, 

prawn, rohu, hilsa,

A hundred kilo Mrs... on a hand pulled rickshaw,

causing his veins on the verge of rupture.

Suddenly, a screech in sync with Amma's shriek,

Driver being pelted with a rapid fire of cuss and smash,

Comes 'Yellow ganjee with shredded jeans' to resolve the risk.

Suddenly, the frame changes,

The wail of a child from a broken window,

with incessant belting out tuneless rhymes,

Adolescent boys flying kites from the rooftops,

Somewhere melody of Tagore carving rainbow in the blue,

Somewhere intense heat generating from fighter cocks,

mom-in-law and daughter-in-law.

Mamoni's sweet sixteen is in love with Robi's handsome eighteen.

Sitting in front of Robi, cycling 'By the River of Babylon',

Kissing red with shy naked,

Red roses and blue bells for the Rice Ceremony,

the joy of birth and the song,

'Congratulations and Celebrations',

Then at the neighbour's; the chant 'Balo Hari Hari Bol',

the name of Lord accompanying the hearse decorated

with white lilies; bidding adieu to the world,

Leaving everything mine,

To a journey of unknown....