Sitar Poem by Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

Sacrifice sounds like heaven,
one who is doing so is equivalent to Almighty.
The nectar of flower when touches the bee's tongue,
the latter whirls around in ecstasy;
similarly when essence of one's sacrifice touches another,
the latter rises to the apex like a whirling wind-
some forget, some keep remembering
but both whirl round and round.

For ex-husband's career
she vowed not to touch sitar after graceless divorce.
The legendary man reached the apex and concluded,
'She is nervous to play in my absence'.

Nothing matters- who is won, who is lost
but everything matters when music is lost,
lastly, talent is equivalent to music.