Ichamati River, ‘Border-less’ for a day…

The day melted on the grey river,

Sending a tune to welcome us abode,

Summoning sons and daughters from both sides of the watery border,

Dhak beats tussled with roar from steamers,

Taking turns to overpower each other,

My boatman confirmed it was the day of rides,

Soon, we’ll find vessels approaching from both our sides…

Steamers painted green and red,

With tiny Bangladeshi flags hovering right up ahead,

Almost overflowing with colorful crowds,

Squeezing around the idol of the Goddess,

Waving out to similar boats,

Approaching from the Indian side…

Empty patches of the Ichamati River,

Were soon hard to find by,

Boats and steamers penetrated borders,

Threw flowers and sweets across,

Greeting each other,

The ones standing,

Taking their chances to hug by…

Garlanded, with mouths stuffed with sweets,

Foreheads smeared with vermillion,

Idols from both countries,

Swayed slowly across the river,

Blessing millions on the banks,

Bidding adieu to their Holy daughter,

Their sacred mother,

To the best time of the year,

They tried hard to smile,

Waving at the boats,

Losing it to their tears…

Adorning the swampy tidal banks,

Some stood, some sat,

They watched the water,

Consume international borders for a day,

Wait for the glowing Sun,

To head back to its quarters in its depths,

It’s time for the Ichamati to make arrangements,

Clear away the way to its bed,

It had to do its best,

It had to put Goddesses, from both countries to rest…

 

 

Debaroon’2013