By Shamik Banerjee
In seething sun, beside the chock-full route
To Noida Eighteen’s rapid transit’s stair,
She stands clad in a threadbare kurti suit,
Immersed in soil and sweat, with rumpled hair.
“O’ bhaiya, didi, five rupees a rose.
Take! take! for your beloved and dear friends.”
She calls out to the breathless crowd that flows
Like frenzied waves to where the pathway ends.
Her form gets lost behind their lightning pace,
And feet get trampled every now and then.
She topples if a blow lands on her face,
Yet, gets up, cleans herself, and sells again.
She said to me one day, “Bhai, please buy one.”
Her streaming eyes met mine, I bought a sheaf
Although, a friend or lover, I had none,
I left with joy and she left with relief.
Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India. When he is not writing, he can be found strolling the hills surrounding his homestead. His poems have appeared in Fevers of the Mind, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and Westward Quarterly, among others.
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