The Almirah - enigma


Enduring ages, as Grandma said –

The cupboard a gift to her as a bride – ingenuous,

with apple cheeks,

in solah shringaar

as from a yellow dusty picture

preserved in a corner of an empty drawer

like dried turmeric

how it feels like a clandestine affair,

between the wooden racks and

the age old silk sarees, colours so vibrant

as molten crayons –

beet purple,

peach rust,

blue as the skin of Blue God, the

halitosis of naphthalene smell,

swish and tickle of garments

In ancient, rusty hangers –

the golden boxes storing mysteries of silver coated

, oxidized jewels –


The armlets,

bracelets, Tyra and anklets,

When the grand brown doors close, do they whisper softly,

gently fabricating lore –

Of how they had been adorned by their mistress

Gracefully

, or do the sarees sing hymns, - deodorized in reverence,

Perfumed in the essence of pounding hearts on wedding days,

Or sweet lyrical lullabies from mystic nights – eons ago

How the cupboard sustains –

Ravishing repository of rapturous remembrance

How the tastes, smells, pleated emotions

amalgamated in the treasures

Breathe like life

How they live, hidden behind veils

like an enigmatic forest

flamboyant, fairy – tailed.


S. Rupsha Mitra is a student of Psychology from India. She loves to read and write poetry. Her works have appeared in Indian Periodical, Blue Marble Review, and Hebe Poetry.

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