Sobhan Pramanik

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"...As the clouds completely shroud the starlight, I connect this monsoon to the hurt she poured me with. Hurt that had hollowed a portion of my soul and continues to bore me with streams of sorrow very passing day. Hurt that after all these years, now happens to be the only evidence, against the love I yearned with my soul, almost begged, of her happening to me. Hurt that also is my sole witness of me losing my heart at the sight of her beaming eyes. An endearing ache that brings me to pictures of thunder fractured skies and maddening rain. And so I put my heart around it, around everything that brings no good but immense suffering, all the memories that are now ugly scars, in a sustaining wrap of holding on, to the person who had long wrenched her hand from my grip and moved on..."

POROUS HEART #ShortStory Looking out of the window, far in the grey haze of evening, rising over the horizon like a soft trail of mountains is a dark sheath of pregnant clouds. Winds hauling it over the city, stretches over cramped buildings and rumblings roads like an immense umbrella of smoke, as I watch the monsoon pull over. It reminds me of the porous roof overhead. How it had been like that since many seasons now. One that I still haven’t got in a mason for, not chosen to, to spread an ever layer of cement with his spatula. One that, like all the other bygone monsoons, would be a sieve with the first hard downpour, pouring in first as speeding drops, then soon transforming into trickling streams, like a fountain placed upside down, spilling all over the room, crowding the corners in greying puddles of standing rain water. Walls soaking it up will start to green from the bottom, fresh dots of moss spreading like colour from a spray can. Pillows will feel sticky, drenched, their cotton clubbed inside from the dampness. The otherwise flat surface of my study table will start sporting bubbles, its white laminate peeling from the corners, the posts swollen. As the clouds completely shroud the starlight, I connect this monsoon to the hurt she poured me with. Hurt that had hollowed a portion of my soul and continues to bore me with streams of sorrow very passing day. Hurt that after all these years, now happens to be the only evidence, against the love I yearned with my soul, almost begged, of her happening to me. Hurt that also is my sole witness of me losing my heart at the sight of her beaming eyes. An endearing ache that brings me to pictures of thunder fractured skies and maddening rain. And so I put my heart around it, around everything that brings no good but immense suffering, all the memories that are now ugly scars, in a sustaining wrap of holding on, to the person who had long wrenched her hand from my grip and moved on. Hence, I ascend the bed quietly and lie sideways, facing the open window and the approaching clouds. Wisp of night jasmine drifting in. Followed by a blue spark of lightening, a stentorian roar of clouds crashing, before the water started to fall. In thick drops first that struck the leaves life bullets, then trickling from their margins onto dry earth, soon evolving into a relentless shower that muted every sound and scent of the bustling city. Just the rain and its smashing sound, as I felt the cold thud of the first drop, seeping through eroded layers of concrete of my roof, splatter onto my forehead. Followed by a second on the hollow over my lips, then a third somewhere on my chin and then, in no time, it was steady trickle drenching my whole body. Beneath the pouring roof, clutching onto similarly porous heart, I let the rain pass into my bones and fill my eyes. Hoping, almost falsely, of waking up to a clear day and meeting the sun with rain kissed eyes for the rainbow we couldn’t be, of everything said and unsaid, to fill the arms of the sky.  © Sobhan 

17 FEB AT 2:47

No warm shower of preparation
or faint wisps of cologne at
my wrist where the blood throbs hard.
I shall walk through your doors straight
and unkempt; my shirt untucked,
my hair ruffled, burnt to brown
from long summers I endured
searching souls of your kind.
So that when you cling to me,
you inhale the impatient nights of
sleeplessness imbued in my skin,
like soot settled on city trees
gasping for rain...

No warm shower of preparation or faint wisps of cologne at my wrist where the blood throbs hard. I shall walk through your doors straight and unkempt; my shirt untucked, my hair ruffled, burnt to brown from long summers I endured searching souls of your kind. So that when you cling to me, you inhale the impatient nights of sleeplessness imbued in my skin, like soot settled on city trees gasping for rain; the moist aura of desolate hours in my breath that I have writhed in bed to be closer to you; and those still dark hours of oblivious stars dropping at horizon, whom I have reached out with my arms, seeking for my wishes they fell to earth with. Twisted in desires, I, however, for once will try and wrench free, when you would be holding me tightest and not letting me go. When your fingers will be scraping down the hooks of my spine, your moaning mouth half-rounded in a blazing ecstasy and a tremor rising in your legs, I shall stop suddenly. Let my fingers relax on your haunches and withdraw my lips from your pubis, watching your desperate anger crush the sweat stained sheets between your fingers. For you to realize what it is to abandon a body, having long floored its heart. © Sobhan #poetry #love #lessons

16 FEB AT 1:28