Dahlias in a Windowpane | Aditi Mishra

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

Exactly five years ago

I lived in a city of dreams-

the city of my struggles,

quite an imposing brand you'd say

but apt for a girl in mid-twenties.

I crawled against my inertia to move,

dragged outside every day.

At exactly half past eight

with roads being swept

I'd hop on a bus to work

recognize every face in there

perhaps I seemed mundane to them too.

I tried to look for novel pictures

relaxing on a window seat

peeping out to find familiar traces.

Just before a lazy traffic signal

the bus screeched to a halt,

cars groaning more than their owners,

the cacophony seemed unbearable.

A wearied building giggled

at the opposite end and

my eyes paused at a window

marked by mauve dahlias

spraying hope on me.

Their owner, a man

strumming his grey years

watering them with tenderness

glanced once or twice at me

as if protecting his darling dahlias.

I laughed and moved on

forgetting them again.

Then at exactly half past six,

with wearied gleam of dusk

the bus sighed at the same stop.

The dahlias, lilac in shades

proudly beamed with joy.

The owner reading next to them

caught me red-handed

staring at his dahlias

then laughed at

my sheepish grin and waved.

I waved back to the gentle old man

and this became our routine

for the next four years.

On melancholic days

he waved them at me

in joyous moments

he greeted me with a smile.

Then my struggles in that city

came to an end

I moved to another place

forgetting that trend.

This year I visited someone nearby-

the building devoid of laughter

dilapidated with charcoal shades

had been ablaze last year

now abandoned with memories.

I hopped on the same bus

saw the broken window

from where they used to wave at me.

A memoir of my diary in days of vain

now symbolized by a forgotten windowpane,

but I noticed something else

a tendril with a single mauve dahlia

creeping from a moist wall

reaching the old man's broken windowpane.

Perhaps in that corner remained

a fragment of the frayed phases in my journey.