To Sabyasachi and,

For Sabyasachi

 the texture of my life lies before me:

your colors, your weaves, your pencils, your mirth,

stepping in a grand world with a pink foot,

where your dreams have gone before and found light,

every “godhuli” takes on new meaning,

you have seen these lines in a gold “pokraj”,

my mind dances on rolling green grasses,

what made you do a red-crested peacock?

sarees speak as if “he” is calling me,

sounds you have patterned out in mustard sheets,

the texture of my life lies before me,

your “lal paar” for a  ordinary girl,

thrusting into the world as ‘Bengali’

which you have shown means, of universal