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invisible rain

Poem by Madhura Banerjee

I have seen only the odd woman or two
Style the kodava saree to perfection
In the same way, only some things in this world
Can carry the fabric of 4 AM with ease –
Train stations, their lonesome platforms and nomadic mist,
And my bus from Pondicherry, that stopped at KR Puram,
parked against a blue-grey November, far away
in Bangalore, where anything could happen,
where everything should happen
This being the hour of journeys, and this
This shade of golden-pink, the skin
peeled off the highway from a country singer’s dream
Sparrows mark the chorus –
this bridge in A minor, night becoming day,
this transition between my two worlds,
The thunder clouds seizing my palms
through the grilles of this North Calcutta window,
Dragging them through the watercolour mess of Yelahanka,
where the rain kissed your skin differently –
unpredictable, Levi’s blue, casual
I am two different women in these two different cities,
Only I miss you more in one
Most other things stay the same, old friend –
Whether beheld from my grandfather’s verandah
Or from the roof of my Indiranagar flat –
Lone taxis backing into alleys,
Tamil songs and your name on my phone,
And rain so light that you cannot see but only hear it