It’s a pleasantly cool Calcutta evening
With the January sun on its way down:
Strums of a guitar I hear in the distance-
As rowed back into shore, I view boats.
I’m sitting by the banks of the Ganges
Watching the river serenely flow below:
The sun giving its ripples an orange glow
In slipping, plunging into their soft folds.
A quiet tranquil now envelops me snugly
In viewing for long, water’s serene flow;
Birds tired of chirping are rushing home
As lights illuminating the bridge turn on.
In shimmering water I now see your glow
As far notes of a guitar ushers you ashore:
Where I’m seated below the strand lights
As on a stage awaiting our roles to enfold.
The last act we played, it was on this shore
But feels like such a long, endless time ago,
As I sorely miss your wordless dialogues which
I’ve learnt, alone rehearsing both our roles.
In my starlit view you’re real, our opera’s true,
As the river – our audience in waves of delight
Squirms in the chilly breeze: even as I’m warmed
In the last scene – passionately embraced by you.