When All of This is Over
By Anannya Dasgupta
When all of this is over,
I will call you one afternoon and ask:
‘Walk on your side of the beach?’ You’ll
say, ‘Be there by 5:00.’
Held back for months, I will run out to
the beach, slippers in hand, to stand
knee-deep in the ocean. I will walk
the shore photographing clams.
I will stuff spirals, olives and lion’s paws
in my pockets, unmindful of the sand.
I will walk up to your side of the beach,
I will see you walking, waving — the smile
on your face ending up on mine. We will as
always sit down, after ambling a bit on
Beach Walker’s Street, telling each other
things of our days, of our lives.
The ocean will turn pink on grey,
when the sun sets behind us, we will
say, ‘shall we?’ Then without a pang,
we will get up and walk away.
When this is all over, I will call you and ask
for a day exactly like this.
When this is all over, I will have my pockets
full of shells and sand, knowing when I walk
home from the shore, it won’t all be like before.
(For K Srilata, Thiruvanmiyur beach buddy)
Anannya Dasgupta is a poet, fiction writer and photographer who lives by the sea in Chennai, where she moved to from Delhi a year and a half ago. Her poetry has been published in several magazines and journals, and she is the author of a book of poems, ‘Between Sure Places’ (2015). She is also the Director of the Centre for Writing and Pedagogy at Krea University.
