The HyperTexts
Mandakini Bhattacherya
Mandakini Bhattacherya, from Kolkata, lives there with her family. She is a
product of Bhavnagar University, Gujarat and Punjabi University, and is
currently an Assistant Professor of English (Stage 3) at Fakir Chand College,
affiliated with the University of Calcutta in West Bengal, India. She is a
multi-lingual poet, literary critic and translator. She has presented papers at
various international and national seminars. Her scholarly articles have been
published in international and national journals, and also in books. Her poems
have been published by international and national journals like Better Than
Starbucks, The Dotism Journal, The HyperTexts, Poetry Nation, Hayati,
Sahityanama, Different Truths and LangLit. She was felicitated at
the 10th, 11th and 12th International Poetry Festivals in 2017, 2018 and 2019 at
Guntur, Andhra Pradesh, India, and also at the Indian Poetic Confluence,
Hyderabad, India in 2018 and 2019. Her poems have appeared along with those of
legends of Indo-English poetry such as Keki N. Daruwalla, K. Satchidanandan,
Bibhu Padhi, Bashabi Fraser, Sanjukta Dasgupta and Sharmila Ray.
MISSING PERSON
Ushered into the world with glory,
My imagined fairy story;
I vanish through the womb’s crevasse,
I am the girl that never was.
No cradle with lullaby sounds,
A pariah on playing grounds,
No report-card cheered with hurrahs,
I am the girl that never was.
No feast awaits my hunger’s throes,
A rag doll dressed in cast-off clothes,
No match for a lad is a lass;
I am the girl that never was.
My rainbows often turn blurry,
I’m forced to bloom in a hurry;
Pitchforked from parents to in-laws,
I am the girl that never was.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
THE ESCAPE
What the roots of the tree seek in passion
Fruits bear forth on the sturdy branches;
The gulmohar blooms yellow — a vision;
The brown bark records mysterious scratches.
Time travels in ferries of the river;
It beckons polka parasols to board
And join the procession of wide wonder
To the bend where the river reveals a ford.
I come back to the streets and the faces;
A leper catches my eyes as I stroll;
I seek solace in routine grimaces;
I knit excuses ’cause you never call.
Each day is a revision of the sun;
Each night I conspire not to be undone.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
CASUAL CAUCUSES
Folks fall in love these days to philander;
Serendipitous circumstances claim
Willing victims out to take a gander
At the next brunette, auburn or blonde dame.
Chance meetings on internet corridors
Are enough to induce satyriasis;
(If your doctor can’t diagnose the ardors,
It’s a severe attack of lustfulness.)
Moons and roses become lyrics in ink
To suitably varnish each carnal thought;
Never mind if two minds are out of sync,
The bed’s inviting, fluffy and iron-wrought.
I say I’m forty-ish, married, a mother;
Love Screams Munch-like, and goes undercover.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
Three would-be sonnets:
An idol moonlights on the streets,
with tepid strains of music
seeks to set aflame devotees.
Meanwhile two ordinary souls
scatter agonies and beads
in their urge to mate
and forget pantomiming
realities, watched benignly
by Radha-Krishna from the walls.
How does one curate
each tic, each tweak, each
curve that your smile makes
on the divine constellation
of your face? With what precision?
***
The fingers curl somewhat
on the stretched-out hand
at the edge of the bed. They
take up your fingers, count
the streams travelling
up your palms, unravelling
a soda-light evening,
when moths hover
on the edge of banter,
and the green-glass lamp
tilts over its candle
to set the bed on fire.
Or was it us?
A pair of djinns, afloat on desire.
***
Sometimes I tug at my lips
to feel the traces of your
moustache. Memories are
hardbound. But Time travels
lightly and escapes in a
wisp through the shuttered
windows of a capsule
as only Time may presume.
The kettle nestles with its grave
of water. Two sachets of tea
simmer, as life swims
agog, charged with passion…
then dies in rubbery fashion
In the dustbin of a post-lunch session.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
BECKONINGS
Peace was when
The notes of flute wafted
Over the Kadamba flowers.
Peace was when
Shimmering minarets
Arose to worship
With hennaed bowers.
Peace was when
Caravans of faith travelled
Over deserts with frankincense.
Now peace is strung like a bird
Over barbed-wire borders;
Or hangs like a tattered
Banner over turrets
Of tanks and lethal mortars.
Peace awaits
The child who wanders
With bloodied footsteps
Into the honeysuckle wilderness
Of unlearned lessons of kindness.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
What, then, is Life?
As shadows lengthen
over the pastures,
And the horizon
brightens each morn,
It is
the eternal battle
Between Essence and Existence,
Moi et toi.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
The struggle to overcome Nihilism,
The moral and metaphysical ennui
That seduces you to slip quietly away
Without redundancy —
That is Life.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
IF I…
If I
Were to set sail like a cloud
Trailing rainbows behind me
Over hilltops raining glories …
If I
Were to float like a wisp
Of meandering smoke
Through soot-stained lanes
Of sinking towns …
Would you follow
Like a beggar’s child?
Or fall back hesitatingly?
If I
Were to say Goodbye
Kissing the venom of your tongue
Even as I curled my fingers
Around the tendrils
Of your hair …
Would you twist your fist
Around my heart?
Or watch askance
As I tiptoed …
Bleeding …
Over the shards of Life?
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
A MIRACLE A DAY…
A Miracle pays me a visit
Each day;
Sits at the doorstep
With the milk pouch;
Greets me as I visit classes.
Falls into my lap
And nestles, as a friend calls.
Drops a-tiptoe with rain
From the branches,
As Love makes a shy entry.
Holds hands and dances,
Fingers my bracelet,
As men and women
Alike call me Winsome.
A Miracle whispers
Laughter into my ear,
And Smiles, and Speaks,
And keeps me alive.
Copyright (c) Mandakini Bhattacherya
The HyperTexts