POETRY

We Are Like Aesop’s Fables

In Search for the Sanctuary

The ship meanders along the nostalgic lines of the seven seas, you crowd the deck, eyes like yearning telescopes, searching for a harbour, that might be welcoming, maybe no one wanted you, ever, crisscrossing scars are running across your body, the start is a forest laced in disguise, its secrets tangled deep, and the horizon, a canvas yet to be painted, waits for our weary hands to sketch a new beginning.

We all are like whispers in worn Aesop’s fables, we linger, we traverse through the mouths of someone to the ears of others, tales retold, yet ever-changing, we all are like those broken lovers who have left empty-handed, the hands that played the violin for someone, someday, we are all alone in our sleep, dreaming of a refuge far from the storms within, we yearn for peace like Buddha’s, a balm to soothe the battles we fight alone.

But unseen chains bind us, tethering us to our thoughts, chains circumnavigating our sense of belief, we yearn to break free, to dance with the unfettered joy of a Kathak or the grace of a Bharatnatyam, yet, the world outside demands a different rhythm — a constant struggle, a never-ending war. sometimes we are left empty-handed, and sometimes, obscured by a blinding fog, we cannot even see our hands.

Somsubhra Banerjee, 2024