Chittaranjan Dash, Delhi, 28 July 2024
He had a closer look at the heroine.
A stroke of luck-
he didn’t want to miss.
There she was-
how transparent a mask she wore.
He could see through the flimsy dazzle
of her muslin skin.
A palpable vulnerability burning holes
in her flesh – her eyes were dancing
in abyssal wounds of existence.
He almost had pity on her-
Somewhere hidden her soul – unkempt:
whimpered like a lamb of innocence.
He wondered- what she must be doing
in the darkly silence of her breaths?
While twilight kisses her mirror-
Is it a charcoal jungle that caresses her-
With a truth of dust dancing in the light.
