Pradip Chattopadhyay

(28.01.1961 / Kolkata)

The Salesman Returns


The day was a mishap.
Dry and arid
No wind blew
And in the oppressive heat
Nothing seemed to click.
The doors I knocked
Didn’t yield,
The men I tried to reach,
Replied staunch refusals,
The deals so badly needed
Questioned my survival.
Bruised and battered for no gain,
I took refuge in the night.
My sleep returned them all,
The daytime monsters I chased,
Goblins, dybbuks, ghouls,
Specters of my torments –
Taking turns to chase me!
When the soft balm of sun
Opened my eyes,
I was back on the road
With dreams of
Open doors
Smiling faces
And deals with friendly monsters!

Submitted: Saturday, May 11, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 17, 2013

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