Not Yet Anyway
In memory of Angshuman Chakravarty, Xaverian, friend.
Note-The reference to Hastings is the area near the Royal Calcutta Turf Club, not far from where the old stables of the RCTC still exist, close to the Hooghly River.
A. left us. A sudden update through social media
None of that artless, naive hysteria of the ages.
He went, he left, the cause docketed and tucked
In a folder inside our bulging brains, to be plucked
By an iron claw looking for human souvenirs, one day.
One day perhaps, but not yet anyway.
I remember wintry evenings, quizzes, Pet Shop Boys, Carpenters,
Shakespeare on audio tape, Bourbon maps in colour pencils,
A spur-of -moment class play called Kidnappers of Paris.
Toy guns, Tom Cruise, Glory.
On a whiteboard somewhere in my mind, there is a photo
Sweaters, glasses, medals.
Proud winners, bold winners, the future roaring in our ears
Like the sporting crowds near Hastings
On a blustery Saturday.
We could be anything we wanted but not what was to become
Not yet anyway.
