In the hour of the night when it’s all silent and dark, walks a lady towards the woods every night. Her black robe and covered face suggest things evil and darker, and black is the only colour she wears.
The owl perching on the branches of the Eucalyptus hoots
That her blue eyes look stone cold.
The peeping stars guess that it’s been long that she slept.
The Raven clicks that the lady walks as if in a trance.
Only to go and sit by a brook every night
But what does she seek at this unearthly hour?
The fireflies whisper as they hear a man singing at that brook. They grumble that it is the same man who sings the same melancholic song every night
He sings for his beloved.
Calling out to her to come back.
She, who left him for a man another.
He sings, yearning for her.
Though he knows it’s too late now.
While the surrounding trees shed a tear.
The lady in black sits a yard away from the singer. His song reminds her of her own betrothed, with whom she could never be. Even in this darkness, she holds onto her lover’s brown scarf to her bosom, in an endless wait.
The singer, oblivious of the lady’s presence, weaves words about life and after. Of untimely departures. She, lost in his voice, caresses her inner wounds. The broken hearts find some solace.
Both shed secret tears. The darkness helps.
She doesn’t know who he is.
He doesn’t care how close or far she sits.
He sings and she listens- night after night.
Two bruised souls find light in the darkest hour.
The perfect hour for the two unearthly beings.
By Devjani Majumdar
Facebook Comments