Tolly Towers
I viewed them framed and through my eyelids,
Just light shade of darker against whiter light.
I knew they were trees as i knew where i'd slept,
Through my closed lids, the window's lacy curtains.
A kind, early morning rorschach game of Nature
Gently suggesting the day in soft dreamy lines.
They were tall, standing in a row, not near, not far,
Tall enough to seem this third floor close to ground
Or on mutual terms, some visual reciprocity at least.
Wondered if they ranged on the golf course's side,
Dreamy romantic aesthetics, or, always realist
In Kolkata, in the humdrum parking lot below.
Soft green, off-white picture streamed as lids lifted
Thataway. Those genteel synthetic laces weren't
To let more in without a drawing to their sides.
(Curtains rooms' eyelids, lace early morning ones.)
But branches moved, leaves waved, the room's AC
Made it feel cool out there. Like Ooty or Shillong.
Rise and shine! At window, i saw them in colour!
Giant radhachura trees, not in season, just a handful
Of yellow flowers in all their four-storied height,
Much reddish-brown dry looking like seed-packets,
Alongside the thick leaves of green, bright, deep.
Between a fluorescent golfer moved quickly in blue.
Sanjib Basu 