The Painter Must Be Going Nowhere | Neha Chaudhuri

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

Angāra→ I love you●

The factory gate declares

to a busy, indifferent road

In fresh white brushstrokes against

Brown fungal walls stinking of rotted garbage and urine.

Algae frame those larger-than-life words.

The letters are all

in upper case – uneven; smeared

on the layer of powdered rust upon the Iron Gate - sticking

against hope; weighed down

by the diligent dusts of traffic jams.

The painter must be going somewhere –

home perhaps,

after frugal dinner and ample drink,

finishing off the residual paint

on a daunting factory gate; his friends

goading his unsteady fingers to declare

to the world his freedom

to love, a blooming lotus

amid muddy swamps.