My Window World


My window world, I expedite my habitual vision to see,

The road resides in road itself, only unbridled hectic life rolls in glee

Chiliad visages, familiar and unfamiliar,

Come in sight and disperse in distance,

Only carnival of my window world, there is no other contrivance.


In the spurt of existence we all are fettered, what’s left is the show of bedlam

If any wayfarer cares to drop a glance at me,

Will that stave time’s momentum?

The gleaming rays of aurora never deny to accost my window sphere,

Only those whose lives are repressed by rat race, they have turned deaf-ear.


In the busy confluence, the travellers collide into each other,

After eons the known faces meet and their barter ushers a jubilant atmosphere.

The hullabaloo of assembled students to board the school van,

The mongers shoving the cart in desperation to draw all possible attention.


The scorched day declines and the crepuscular sky is adorned by bridal drop,

My temple pressed against the window ribs, haunts for atrophied figures returning to their abode.

My handful window world gradually enfeebles in the abridged light,

Cloaked by haze, I am impatient to greet the next morn so bright.


Indrani Chatterjee