Mystery Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

All of them are happy - unlike me
Immersed in festivity - in gaiety
Mornings are sunny and bright
Attires are lovely - blissfully right
They walk along the street - sing
Add cheer to this morning.
Why do I think about the purpose
Of this moment, this life?
They say - it is a disease
Deeply entrenched in mind.
My mind - a terrible mess - intense.
The air is thick with suspicion -
Before the meeting, there was speculation,
Who will say what? What will be?
Tea was served and there was unison.
Am I the odd one doing miscalculation?
Perhaps. A sigh. Of relief.
From this moment to the next -
A quest for purpose not in sight.
Meaningless! Are you serious?
You are right. Meaningless.
There it is - a purpose -
Somehow life has to be lived -
Allow this time to any way pass -
Pass and then - do not ask.
The crowd disappears -
Moments too, life too, -
We live in mystery.