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‘A Conversation Between Father and Son’ and other poems by Anupama Bhattacharya

By: Anupama Bhattacharya

A Conversation Between Father and Son

Son, we all are at war
Some for finance
Some for romance
Most with Chance
Between anima-animas.

Papa, “Why do we battle?”
Not for victory or prosperity, my son.
But surely for power and for wealth
And for recognition of a breath
Amidst the unfaltering terror
Being salvaged by hate.

“What do we fetch?”

Hunger and fatigue,
Pain and unhappiness
Suspicion and drunkenness;
That’s all, I guess.

“Papa, where do I go to save myself?”
Our Shepherd’s path, my son
With love as the only ointment.
Do you remember
The jolly good fellow?
And his gift of hope
Right there in your pocket!

So my son, hold my hand.
As we walk; let us sing.
Let us love, let us live.

Above all,
Let us search for peace
at first. That once dwelt
Within ourselves.


Bad Wife

I am a bad wife
Because I don’t find salvation
In dusting, scrubbing
Washing and grinding
In cooking and knitting
Even in gardening.
I don’t share recipes
And good home shows
I don’t even have a child
To crib and boast.

Hence proved:
I am a bad wife
As I have failed to get
Good grades in
Household chores.

I love to teach, l love to learn
I love to speak and stretch my arms
Illumine with torches of joy and mirth
The gloomy hungry turbid shores.
I do get love, I do get honor
I have homes in all different corners.
But that doesn’t improve
My wifery score.

In altruism I fail.
And in being a holy cow
I fail to see god in my man.
And be the Lakshmi of the house.
That makes me a bad wife.
Clay too hard to mould.

Why do you cry, my dear mom?
Let it be so. Let it be so.
For your daughter has found
The world outside his dingy room.
Better he too comes out into the sun


Coracle Ride

What if you and I went on a Coracle ride
on a temperate moon lit night?
Like those aimless gloomy clouds
Ambling across the stony Temples
Etched on the rocky cliffs:
Mystic in the glimmering aura,
Of twinkling fireflies;
Watching us like ancient guardians
Awaiting the sunshine.

While our coracle floats
like a lotus leaf
on the sleepy Tungabhadra.
We, as droplets of evening mist
Listen to the divine aqua tune 
With dreamy eyes, rolling on the leaf,
Musing in trance of the sight:
Of silver silhouettes
Making dance poses 
And playing hide and seek 
With their images on the rippling streaks.

In quietness we would row our coracle
For quietness is all we want.
And who would like to ping or speak?
When silence is so eloquent
Singing lullaby of eternal bliss
Till we douse off to the land of lotus eaters
Intoxicated by the sweet smell 
Of mud drenched water
What if it would be as enigmatic
Or realistic?


With an M.A in English literature Anupama Bhattacharya is a teacher by profession. Her poems have found place in platforms like The Time of India, Ceasurae Literary Magazine and Ethos Literary Magazine. She calls herself an aspiring poet because she thinks there’s always so much to learn. Many other Kolkata based little magazines like The Beacon Kolkata have also published her work. With specialization in kathak and Rabindranritya she tries to find immanence in dance as well. An ardent lover of music, literature and poetry she believes in healing the world with words and rhythm. She can be contacted at

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