Is It Your Pride, Love?

By Prosari Chanda

I've seen you dig deep for truth

only to bury it again 

Is it your pride, love? 

Heavy monsoons wove blossoms 

into kadam trees,

yet could never sweep in the faith, 

that leaped beyond their roots

beyond the drenched domains. 

I had seen you back then 

Your beauty lit like saffron 

hair dried like forgotten reeds, 

face roughened by surrender

your heart — a silent ruin. 

And I've seen you today, 

rapt in morning prayers

I hid behind the Sal woods

willing not to look at you, 

to the sage like mark of sandals on your forehead,

resting calmly upon your brow.

I failed yet again.

This ache of watching

builds my prison. 

Again, is it your pride, love?

By Prosari Chanda