Does She Remember?

By Indratapa Routh

She is of shimmer, glitter and gold.

Modern-day chandeliers, glazed black stone.

Of elegance. Of beauty.

Her fingers rest gently, stem of hair's breadth

Swirling in the goblet, translucent red.

Top of the Eiffel, blindingly bright

Cherry lips perched under shades rimmed white.

Opulence, fur cape behind her trailing…

She's of aerial luxury

Speeding through lazy clouds

Running away from her past, unwitting.

The other-she's of comfort in rustic indoors

Ukulele, country tunes, tangle of earphones.

She's of starkness. Of beauty.

Same old address for years eighteen

Inner workings of her mind duly trapped in

A convenient pocket diary. Her hand on the pen.

Same as it grips on the ceiling handle

Wobbling carriages of the local train.

She tries to squint hard beyond its windows

See the rest of the world o'erlooking, and fails.

Hometown, last train loops her back in

Carrying the weight of her past, unwilling.

They both were of childhood, once upon a time.

Chapels, blue trappings, recess bells that chimed.

Of friendship. Of beauty.

The common lunchbox she dashed away with daily

As the other-she dog-trotted far behind.

So it appears, it has happened in life.

There were stickers handmade, their team of two

Fingers that met on a kid's knitting loom.

Neon rubber bands, amity bracelets weaved

An extra chocolate she brought for other-she.

Her wrist, pen tattoo of the other's name

Two years until their teary goodbyes came.

Today, the ink has faded hundred times over

Even so, the other-she can't help but wonder

After all this time, does she remember?

Does she remember?

Does she remember?

By Indratapa Routh