Afternoon Sun - Soumyarupa Das

We were lying on your charpai

under the late autumn sky,

splayed out on the surface

of your terrace

like sacrifices to be made,

above the dying leaves

crunching beneath your dangling feet,

wind kissed, your face

a shade deeper than red,

you were dressed in a cheese-stained cardigan

beside me, the ever-distressed teacher's pet

in her TS sweats,

waiting for the afternoon sun

to make its appearance.

And you turned to me,

your eyes bereft of sleep,

breaking me free

of my afternoon reverie

to take me

back

to the good old days,

spent

chasing after you

in crowded hallways,

back when I still dreamed of

becoming a slam poet,

skipping classes to write sonnets,

reminding me of all the unfulfilled promises made

from the far end

of my parents' landline.

And as you continued to speak,

playing with your cardigan,

threadbare,

I stared at the veins twitching underneath

your cheeks and the afternoon sun

that finally made its appearance,

emerging out of the clouds, closer to the horizon now.

But you went on and on, unconcerned,

about how life never did us any wrong,

your voice, thick as smoke

but your words, clear

like rosewater,

colouring the wind with your dreams and imagined scenes,

sharing your plans

to paint the town pink

in your pyjamas,

leaving behind a mark

on this Earth

like lipstick stains

on coffee mugs.

And I listened, at first

without interruption,

in quiet contemplation

but then with increasing exasperation

and open derision

for it seemed like 'tis was the season

of all rhyme, no reason,

second guessing all my life's decisions,

nestled under an afternoon sun

that gave no warmth

But you took my diatribes in stride

and as my weary sighs filled the autumn sky,

I finally removed my rose coloured glasses, cracked from side-to-side

to realize for the first time

that the sky wasn't blue but a shade of grey

and so, the epiphanies I long kept at bay,

resurfaced, one by one,

following each other

like lambs to slaughter,

pressing down on me

like invisible weights

only to dissipate, evaporate

and disappear with the afternoon sun!

And So, we lay

and watched the day decay

and then fade away,

two fickle figures

in the evening calm,

waiting for a time that would never come

nor could ever return,

nostalgia-tinted pasts and glorified futures,

as the afternoon sun went lower

and sank below the horizon.