Assamese hypnotic jasmine boards the last evening train, carrying the parmesan suitcase to deliver it, to a pullulating periwinkle, counting its own last breath, on the Bengal grave.
Bordoichila curtains her face in the gloomy burqa to divorce Kalbaishakhi, as he never exfoliates his dead skin and smokes the cigars of withered flesh of paddy and bleeding intestines of farmers.
The fishermen along the coastline of Sankosh River wear Brahmaputra Ilish for cologne and listen to the podcasts of Dakhineshwar's Ganga Aarti.
The Bengali Bhadraloks nosedive the biscuits in their bharer cha, sitting across tea stalls along the Kamakhaya Temple.
The serrated laces and threads of muga silk, plaited across the tattered tissues and friable bones; the vestiges of an overworked Bengali mother are birthed in the uterus of Kamrup handloom.
Underneath the flickering streetlights of Borhat, the hand-reaped stalk of Aus rice is threshed.
The nomadic mosquitoes from the inundated Brahmaputra valley take refuge across the swampy shores of the Ganges.
Khatun, does Brahmaputra bleed blood, as it broke its toe nail, by hitting against the nauseating door wedge,
or as the sweet tooth of forgotten telephone booths has devoured his wedlock with the Ganges?
Many Nowgaon juvenile love stories have been massacred in the slender fists of Purulia snipers, who shoot homing pigeons; to carve paper boats out of the letters.
Descending from the Jhargram palanquin, the bride bakes laughter and marinates the Bongaigaon betel leaves in chaandi ka varq which tastes spoonfuls of Murshidabadi rock sugar granules and Assamese areca nut, for the guests.
The sun-baked roofless shack of Dibrugarh fantasizes to pull the mauve skies closer and brand itself a South Kolkata skyscraper.
Heavy luggage and lighter memories, imprinted across the upper and lower berths, is pregnant with nostalgia that is cocooned along the thread, tied across the wrists, after a sleepy train ride inches to the Guwahati station.
Educing from the Bengal Partition, the custom stays, celebrated on an undying day.
Sohagni, 18 years old, is an undergraduate student of English Literature at Hindu College, University of Delhi. She likes to for she loves the redolence of new books; to flip the pages, and majorly to acclimatize her friends with the mythical characters to whose character traits they aren't even cognizant! She listens to music, reads ardently, and paints.