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Ananya S Guha

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Ananya S Guha


hyacinths fade 
these hills are 
no longer questioning 
accepting me as I am 
what I was, roguish ways
trickster but lover all the
same, their lover.
And, how you loved 
tanning on the front 
of the house
in a  makeshift 
breakfast room
as I mounted 
on these blue jagged 
hills, with winter 
giving another chance
to love.
You were not there on 
these streams 
where dry images 
of the goddess floated 
I was not there to say 
goodbye, but passed 
the streams, crossed 
them wading through 
polo fields 
just to play cricket 
chance an arm 
with bonhomie 
in winter's settling 
dusk. Eye, face, 
nose, and my weight 
on the hills falls lonely 
as a skewed bird 
hovers madly
wanting season 
to change. 
Why do these hills waver 
when Christmas 
walks across them 
and oranges ripen
Get the ones from Cherra 
I say, the baskets over ripe 
as bystander haggles 
I haggle with winter 
it's pristine charm 
foreboding weather 
run down memories 
compelling me to wear 
coats of dust, hidden 
dreams, mufflers stained 
with marks of wine 
I drank on evenings 
of pleasure. 
Little ones ripple with laughter 
Crows caw, caw
my mind sinks into horizons 
of a hill town which I ask 
to love,
Weathering the storm 
in rainy afternoons 
is all that I  get 
even after contemplation 
even after praying 
doing a bit of good 
walking roads 
on tight rope hills
the sun sinks 
looks like a water melon 
as fruits burgeon into death 
we cut the flesh one by 
one and say ''how fresh, 
tasty''. Images change 
on rainy afternoons, evenings 
your face mirrors 
and on the path 
heavy man slumps 
down on his dreams.
I waver at the astonishing fury 
of these hills.
I'd rather die 
than see these 
hills decapitated 
they are cutting down forests
suppose they behead these 
hills with their neat chop 
whom will I look at 
how will colours change 
green, blue,pristine dark 
how will I hold this cup 
of wine, sitting on the terrace 
mulling over poetry,poets 
and aroma of words?
When a child,mother said 
these are not dogs barking 
but hyenas or wolves 
as Laitumkhrah, somnambulist 
walked steadily in my carping dreams. 


Feature–Contemporary Indian English Poetry

    Editorial: GJV Prasad

    Abhay K
    Aishwarya Iyer
    Akhil Katyal
    Amlanjyoti Goswami
    Ananya S Guha
    Arup K Chatterjee
    CS Bhagya
    Debasish Lahiri
    Devdan Chaudhuri
    Dhananjay Singh
    Gertrude Lamare
    Goirick Brahmachari
    Joie Bose
    Maaz bin Bilal
    Malsawmi Jacob
    Meera Sagar
    Nabina Das
    Nitoo Das
    Priya Sarukkai-Chabria
    Rajesh Kumar
    Ranu Uniyal
    rizio yohannan raj
    Rochelle Potkar
    Saima Afreen
    Sanjeev Sethi
    Semeen Ali
    Shelly Bhoil
    Smeetha Bhoumik
    Srilata K
    Sudeep Sen
    Sukrita Paul Kumar
    Sumana Roy
    Tabish Khair
    Taseer Gujral
    Uddipana Goswami
    Usha Akella
    Uttaran Das Gupta
    Vivek Narayanan
    Linda Ashok

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