//Ipsita//

The girl could sketch very well,
She used to write stories fluently...
Our daily lives can easily be seen in her stories,
Vibrant, lively!
I never met her in person, still
After all the tide of words,
I have quite found her in her sketches...
Some scattered portraits on the canvas,
Formalities, short stories and all.
Now she is going to a place unknown,
To a far distant land with all her belongings!
I did know her, or did I?
I never read any of her stories, yet
I have seen her craft in her sketches,
That she had drawn absentmindedly, sometimes with care.
Those will never come back again!
She took that very path, from where
The path of unknown begins—
Bonfiring all her failures like happy memories!
We are elder to her, sketching our condolences in poems now...
If, only if, in future, someone can find her in this way!

—Ahab

23 April 2024
11-27 am.
Tuesday

[Translated from the original Bengali poem "Ipsita" by the poet himself.]

(Elegy written on the untimely demise of Ipsita Mitra Pupu 🥺)

#kaustavmondal


© Van Helsing