THUMBPRINTNE POETRY COLUMN
POETRY EDITOR ANANYA S GUHA'S NOTE:
Mollika Lahiri’s poems evoke responses to every day happenings. The poems are evocative and capture the essence of day to day living. There is a fluid movement, matched with rhythm, and an eye for detail
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Why not Red?
I see the green light in a minaret,
A Sufi song hums, gentle and low.
Childhood still rings through my playlist,
In every corner, their voices flow.
Shades of orange and yellow,
Through afternoons of the past bathed in gold.
The sun-kissed bed, the dusk holds still,
The sky turns purple, soft, and cold.
Maybe that’s when I learned to love
The way colors blend, the way they fade—
The gentle touch of Twilight’s hand,
A thousand hues in memory’s shade.
The photograph above the cabinet—
I looked at seldom, a glance away
The only shade my father donned
The dark blue blazer lingered in disarray,
Now pink and teal swirl around me,
My friends a canvas of moving art.
I see the colors wrapped in love,
The ones that light up my heart
And every morning as I open the wardrobe,
In the midst of black, blue, and white
Sits a pink kurti and sweater green
My sister’s touch, a memory bright
Her fragrance still lingers
Vivid, soft, and true,
In each waking dawn
That I pull them through.
In the lowest stack,
I fold and refold
My mother’s endless sarees,
Of purple, grey, and gold
Though every shade is familiar,
Warm and comforting
No search finds red
In the riddle of the clothing
Red—
I never understood its call.
It stood too loud,
And loomed too tall.
For all my years,
I didn’t call it my own,
A color I sought out
But had never known
My friend once said
She sees me as blue,
A flickering light,
A gentle hue.
So when I ramble,
Lost in thought,
That glimmer shines
Untouched and unsought.
Every color I’ve known carries a face,
A voice, a breath, all wrapped in affection.
But red carried absence and loss;
Frayed threads and empty connections.
On the busy Dusshera mornings,
Women rejoiced in red and white,
But in the crowd, through smoke and sound,
I could not find her in my sight.
I never saw my mother clad in that hue,
Nor felt it in her loving embrace,
So when they ask me, "Why not wear the same red?”
I stand silent, lost in space.
Red was never warmth or light,
Was Never hers and never mine.
It was a color she didn’t choose to wear,
As though a shade that wouldn’t feel aligned.
Now I search in every thread,
For a soft memory or a quiet night,
But red remains a word unsaid,
A lost color beyond my sight.
***
Maa, Give Me My Glass of Water Please
That glass of water tasted the best—
When I woke up abruptly and called for Maa.
When she would come running and ask—
“What happened Baba?”
“Give me a glass of water Maa.”
The perfect blend of a little warm that subdued the cold of it.
A sweet gulp through my throat—
As though heavy loads were being washed in seconds.
It felt as if it was the easiest to fall asleep again.
Perhaps now when the water is tasteless.
Falling asleep peacefully is the task.
As, to wake up one has to sleep.
To take a sweet gulp one has to breathe—
“Maa, give me a glass of water please.”
***
The 3rd Floor
The rain poured wild —
I slowly crept into that building, my vision partly hazy.
The orange light flickered as I pressed '3' and the lift beeped,
The slow, sluggish rise, counting 1, 2, and '3.
A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead as I sent a message, "Open the door."
"I've reached the 3rd floor"-
My heart raced with each step I took, tiptoeing into this home.
I looked left and saw one door ajar, another closed.
I took a step and headed toward the room.
I crept in with no peripheral vision, then dashed in with a zoom.
I shed a layer, then another,
A smile, and then a gaze-
Oh, those eyes!
I'd lose the world to stay in them forever.
At this moment, a certain reality strikes me—
My gut twists, and leaves me shivering.
Time is fading faster than I can fathom—
And here I stand, taking every chance,
Before this ends on some night, random.
***
A Dose of Forever
Those mornings!
Oh, they're tormenting,
Surreal pain evokes and leaves me lamenting.
As though my heart is twisting in my gut,
And no matter how hard I try—
I cannot keep my eyes shut.
Your arms wrapped around me tight,
Legs intertwining through the night.
Oh dear Lord, I wish I could deny,
Morning's arrival with closed curtains hereby.
For a never-ending night to stay,
But perhaps, I can't be that way.
I consistently leave little parts of me,
Scattered all over that house.
I barter your smell for mine—
And forever promise to keep my vows.
Perhaps in our "forever" — I can't be
So, I only come back, to take another dose,
And surely another night's plea.
***
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
A day at a time and again,
A little more patience to retain.
For what arrives without a trace of pain?
Just as they say: "No pain, no gain.'
I hold myself tight once more,
A little longer till the bloodstain's no more.
Merely a passing phase, this turbulent flight,
I know, I just need to pass another night.
Here comes today, and yet another,
Yesterday, my footsteps echoed-
Sounding like my grandmother's.
Life unfolds, a canvas of memories,
Frail and frosty, from distant centuries.
A year surrenders, for the next to run,
Glimpses of days passed, lingering, but some.
Just a bit more to endure and bear,
Gazing upon blank walls, and skies so bare.
"Grow up, grow up, dear child!
From a baby to a woman-the change is mild.
Virginia said it too, what then stops you?
Money and a room-a woman's muse,
To pen tales, her conviction she mustn't lose.”
Here comes today, and yet another,
Despite the ache, the fissures, I gather.
I gaze out the window, see Lights aglow,
Then, a lyric floats in my mind's flow—
“Oh, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas ...'
Hope gleams, an end to the strife,
Inch by inch, a patience-filled Life.
The echoes of the past softly speak,
Lessons learned, though sometimes bleak.
A day at a time, as it passes in a glance,
Patience and courage in life's grand dance.
***
Sand Castle
He was the storm to my serene night sea;
And ever since, I am only trying to rebuild my sand castle.
But even to this day, the waves only betray me.
After all, why not?
It's I, who taught them how to Love him,
Just the way I did.
***
VIBGYOR
I saw the stars and next night they vanished.
I saw the rainbow but it's colour Faded.
I felt tears flood my eyes.
Betrayed by vision-
And that was when I saw you.
Stars filled the sky and it all turned violet.
Your indigo shirt-
Those blue eyes.
The green apple mojito blocked the yellow Light from afar.
My pale t-shirt felt orange again and red ballons decorated the bar.
It was Valentine's Day,
My rainbow was complete too.
"VIBGYOR" my mind said-
“YOU" said my heart.
***
ABOUT THE POET:
Mollika Lahiri is a young writer and poet from Shillong, pursuing a degree in Communication Studies in Bangalore. Her poetry reflects personal experiences and stories, capturing the complexities and beauty of human experience with a keen eye for detail and love for language.
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