Departure – 1

About Tapan Mozumdar

Tapan is an engineer by training and a real estate builder by profession. His interests lie in poetry, short stories and now, in photography. Caught between disparate pulling forces, he finds his balance. Writing is catharsis for him. Voyeurism, too! He is 50 now and live in Bangalore with parents and wife; his son is 20 and studies digital design. Recently, Tapan had been shortlisted for Star Writer’s Programme, a national competition for writers organised by Star TV.

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Just a leather bag between us.
It’s time for the mighty Airbus
they are calling you to board.
In your palm, you try to hoard
few more nuggets of pop-corn.
It’s strange in this foggy morn
that your flight is right on time.
I hear the public address chime
once more and look at your face,
my blood in a metaphoric race
to hold the sling of your bag & say
“how much do you lose if you may
miss this flight and I miss mine?”
“Don’t be a child,” with usual shine
you don’t flash a smile, just grimace
looking down at my pathetic face.

I know you were upset last night
as I behaved quite uptight
with all your admirers and friends.
Your embarrassment had no ends.
Trust me, if all celebrations
meant just drunken jubilations
I have no issues with that.
It’s when meaningless chat
is what you expect me to do
amidst music’s hullabaloo
is when you get my goat.
Love, alone, can’t keep afloat
my sinking feeling in a crowd;
that, I think, does no proud
that the evolution ladder
prevents us emptying our bladder
inside a terrace planter box.

I takes me weeks to detox
effects of such vacuous mirth

“Leave my bag.” Flight to Perth
was making its final call.
A pretty 20 was watching this brawl
from the opposite row of seats.
I got cautious. Beating retreats
have to happen in a civil society.
I let go of my propriety
on the leather bag, gifted by me.
As you disappear through security
I look back at our solo audience.
She smiled. It didn’t make sense
to keep crying over the spilt milk.
I walked to her, my voice as silk,
compliemented her for the smile.

Coffee shop was at the end of aisle…


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