He is in a dilapidated lodge in Allahabad now
“What is the name of the lodge.” He thinks
But he can’t
He just imagines Dibendu making love to her
And ejaculates-A scream
Dibendu is reading his letter meant for Mrinalini
He posts every poem he writes and posts at Mrinu’s address
This is his revenge he believes
“You can abandon me but can never your words.” She said.
He never thinks of going back to that place
A city that turned into a woman, eventually
Pair of eyes penetrates him through the balcony of 34 Rippon Street
And the rains, a perfect cliché.
But unlike all clichés he never did look back
If he did he would’ve known that she fell unconscious
He can still at nights listen to falling tears. The sound overpowers
Doctor has given him medicines for his insomnia
Sound of tears, a metaphor.
Two day after that day
Sounds of shahnai and Aguner Poroshmoni song
Pierced through that place he believes
But he’s wrong
Time stood still on Rippon Street
Two days after never came.
At certain moments he forgets his route back to Kolkata
This is his phobia these days
And he pens a poem
Tears apart the pages
And he can remember his way back as clear as a day
“You love your poems more than me.” She said
He has written and tore two poems a day
Tomorrow he shall move southwards.
And he plays Love by Lennon in his I-Pod.