The 7 oâ€™ clock was hot again, hotter than any 7 oâ€™ clock.
A drop of sweat travelling down my cheek
In search of destination stopped suddenly
And I rubbed it off, removing its existence.
I went up for a glass of glucose to see
Ants caving in there;
The glass had one inch water with dead ants floatingâ€”
Perhaps they have committed suicide.
I went for a bath where water was in drops first,
Then there were none.
From the corridor, I saw people
Working with pumping lines.
They were so happy, the gushing water
That rode on them sometimes seemed
Like the child of a waterfall. Quite refreshingâ€”
My inner being had its bath from the scene.
To read Sonnet Mondal’s bio and more poetry, click here.