sayan aich

sayan aich Poems

What if I never see you again…
Nothing much is it?
Nothing much;
Just that the streets we walked so often would be empty
...

Putting a thinking heart to work,
Staring at the dull ceiling of my room, imagining worlds and cartographies beyond
Thinking of battles won and wars lost
In the battlefields of Crimea, or that of Nuremberg,
...

sayan aich Biography

A student of literature...formerly doing his master's in English from The University Of Calcutta through Presidency College.Now a research Scholar in JadavPur University.Areas of interest include post-modern novels, the works of Amitav Ghosh...)

The Best Poem Of sayan aich

What If I Never See You Again?

What if I never see you again…
Nothing much is it?
Nothing much;
Just that the streets we walked so often would be empty
Lined with trees unstirred.
With slum urchins
Suddenly discovering their nakedness
And along with it shame, guilt and desire.
Living to exist by the side of the streets
Where we walked so lately
Now- where only our vacant steps resound
So…
What if I never see you again?


What if I never see you again?
Nothing much is it?
Nothing much;
Just that the diner where we dined would be empty
Deafened by the silence of our absence.
The owner may reserve our favorite cabin for a week
Maybe a bit more…maybe not.
Till he is exhausted re-counting the dimes we paid
To sit for those extra hours
Having had enough coffee-But not of ourselves.
So…
What if I never see you again?

What if I never see you again?
Nothing much is it?
Nothing much;
Just that there will be two less voices in the bus stand
The vacant window seat of the 5o’ clock bus glaring stupefied
The arguments have ceased….the bickering over.
Romances have been muted
The courtship silenced.
Plenty of stories were told
Ask the window…it knows.
But even I know…
Stories unfinished are plenty
So…
What if I never see you again?


What if I never see you again?
Nothing much is it?
Nothing much;
The evening matches in the university will have two less watchers
Two less careless hands tearing the grasses
Two less careful hands etching their names on the rocks.
Creating and destructing.
Now…
Maybe things will be difficult…maybe even difficult.
Maybe no phone calls at midnight
That means more sleep
With less peace
Fag ends of a foggy life dimly lit
So…
What if I never see you again?

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