About The Girl With No Name Poem by Debayudh Chatterjee

This a prequel to my earlier note 'The Girl who loved diamonds.'

She has no name. Or perhaps she has one. But that is of sheer irrelevance here. She could be Mary Magdalene or Joan of Arc or Isabella or even the kiddish next door girl living in your neighbourhood. Her long drawn anxieties are suppressed by the tender innocence of her face; her simple life has no trait that might distinguish her as a heroine of a tale. Her large dreamy eyes by no means suggest that she too might have catacombs of mystery swirling in her timid brain. But magic still happens and that's why stories are still written.

After 30 minutes had elapsed midnight as the pristine aura of the moon entered her room, something happened. She felt as if a sky full of stars were storming within her. ‘Water', she cried. She was desperately seeking for waves in the otherwise tranquil climate of her room. She felt suffocated, jumped down from her bed and looked out into the void outside.

She realized that she was amidst a torrid troposphere of sand- with no oasis and not even a mirage of consolation. Fragmented myths of images were circling around her as she saw visions of unseen topography, rattling like the creation of the universe, enveloping her senses into a sordid realization of peace.

A mimetic horizon of truth appeared before her. All what she discovered were the deprivations of her mortal world. Right from the first guy she fell for to the first flower she picked in spring masqueraded only to fade away. Desperation... despair...and water... she kept crying for drops of oozing raindrops in her smothering state of intense suffocation.

Splash... a waterfall...? And then a blow... was light beaconing?

... After that she never got drunk again.