Himadri Lahiri is former Professor, Department of English and Culture Studies, University of Burdwan, West Bengal. Currently, he is Professor of English at the School of Humanities, Netaji Subhas Open University, Kolkata. He has written extensively on Diaspora Studies, Postcolonial Studies and Indian English Literature. His latest publication is Diaspora Theory and Transnationalism (Hyderabad: Orient Blackswan, 2019). Contemporary Indian English Poetry and Drama (Newcastle on Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2019), co-edited by him, has also been published recently. He writes book reviews for newspapers and academic journals. Contact: hlahiri@gmail.com
Special Collection: Creativity in the Time of the Pandemic 2020>>
The Stranded
The last bus has left the city.
It’s lockdown now.
Why then are you waiting there
with the teeming multitude
from all corners of my country?
A new phrase perhaps – perhaps you didn’t understand.
Or you might have missed the Word
that thundered overhead – loud and clear:
Clear out, clear off!
The annus horribilis on the prowl
and no victory in sight –
On earth, in the sky or on the waters!
Laxmi the maid
who noticed last December
a strange pigmentation in the sky
and dreamt of locusts in the field
is stuck up in the metropolis.
And the last bus has left the city.
Before We Go to Sleep
The locks on the door rattle in restless wind
blowing across the Himalayas.
Inside the gated space
the sane acts insane.
Someone swats at flies invisible,
one crawls on all fours on the muddy floor,
some try how not to act patriots,
one, mad as a hatter, even climbs a podium
from there to announce:
Physician, heal thyself!
Now that we are all shut up
Locked indeed in our own sanatoriums
With no hope of parole
We can hear stomping feet outside!
Who indeed are the ones who stomp outside with heavy boots?
Who beats his own trumpet and threaten retaliation?
The panacea must arrive from the land of herbs and spices!
Who are the ones to announce modifications
and clang metals and burst crackers
to drive away the evil?
Now that we’re inside,
is it growing gloomy?
With a little bit of yoga or some tidbits
we try resistance.
Some of us sleepwalk in dim daylight!
We imagine peacocks in full arrogance in open roads and isolated buildings.
In fading daylight we hear songs of dolphins from distant waters –
are they not singing to us?
Can we then dream of dancing in the sun, hand in hand?
Can we really dream of purged egos and uncontaminated minds
before we go to sleep, finally?
Published on April 18, 2020. © Author.