Prompt for Hour one-
a mildew stained coat,
dyed by a clever Rangrez*
in a russet brown shade
burnt on the pyre of miseries
embers caged in an Urn neatly placed on the Oak fire mantle.
rosary bead ingrained with
thoughts, prayers, and frailties
clasped in a Fakir pocket; lamented about the cultural legacy
besieged in architecture and folklores
ashes of broken beads float on the Ghats of Banaras.
With November Witch, an unannounced envelope
arrives from the other side of fences
the cryptic scent of Guerlain’s Shalimar
lingers on to reach its purpose- a vintage voyage
to cross over borders, taboos and hatred.
Autumn winds smell like an incense-stick breathing Hope.
A shadow lost in the roots of an Old lavender tree
the pink skin of poplars; the roughened surface of its
birch; sad about its bony existence
a wooly grin buried in the
pirate box; as long as stalks of wheat
Earth coughed up a thick mist- Ruins of Mohenjo-Daro.
Copyrighted by Ruchi Chopra, 2017.
Fakir* Religious ascetic