Autopsy of Kolkata


// Time is the longest distance between two places. //


Sun reeks of malted whiskies / clouds weave the evening skies alike the dark pits under her eyes, birthed from disturbed sleepcycles/ tastes the champagne of floods/ rabindrasangeet tenderly held hostage in my playlist/warbles of thrush and cooing of pigeons are the podcast recommendations/ roofless shack fantasizes to pull the mauve skies closer to boast about itself as a skyscraper/the safe cocoon of the yellow taxi arms/ Kolkata breathes in the swirling rings of incense sticks of Hilsa, prawns and Dadaboudi Biryani /mannequins of South City Mall wrapped in fabric like the magenta toffees/ nomadic mosquitoes from the marshy shores of Dakhineshwar seeks refuge under flickering College Street lights/ walking by the crooked streets and potholes are just like use-and-throw ball pens, chewed to near perfection at the ends /Kolkata wears Dasari mangoes, jute bags, gajraas, stale jalebis and rosogolla, unflipped pages of a book for cologne/cuddles against her lover's aftershave along the lane of Rabindra Sarovar/ paints alta to bejewel her old heritage/ jams over the dyed 'kirtaan' and screeches of conchshells across Kalighat/ sleeps comfortingly listening to the lullabies of Victoria's Kalo Pori/ Kolkata restlessly watches from rooftops, how the Kalboishakhi bullies the withered/ Kolkata is a shattered rainbow.


// Kolkata is the white canvas, uncannily painted with uneven strokes .//


Sohagni, 18 years old, is an undergraduate student of English Literature at Hindu College, University of Delhi. She likes to write 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.


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