ISBF24: Blank 120 by Debaleena Mukherjee

Debaleena is a homemaker who also reads and writes. Reading isn’t about “making time to read”. She reads wherever, whatever, whenever. Writing is her articulation of all the incoherence in her head. She lives in Bangalore. She needs books, coffee and cake, a reading-light and her recliner.

Check out her work using the links here.

‘Ink-Smudged Dreams- by the Reading Light’ is a collection of poems.

‘Coffee, Smiles & Tears: by Starlight‘; is a collection of short stories.

Blank 120 

by 

Debaleena Mukherjee

A POCKET PARADOX

‘With sleepy eyes and wide awake imagination,
Weave a gossamer veil of dreams.
Spin the tales of shooting stars
And hear the planets sing.

Give to your life a fresh new shine
Of crazy imagination and clever fun.
Colour your soul with the quirky shades
Of life’s broken and stubby crayons.’
(“Of Moonbeams and  Stardust”, from the collection of poems—‘INK SMUDGED DREAMS BY THE READING LIGHT’:- DEBALEENA MUKHERJEE)

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Girl! Whatever you wear make sure they have capacious pockets.

For we all need to have dreams somewhere on our person and what better personal space than pockets. It is not naive or silly to dream of dreams because dreams come to those that dare to dream.

You have stayed awake and watchful through many dreamless nights and then faced a real day. Dreams will come to you  because no one knows more than you about dreamless nights  and dreamy days. So tailor deep pockets and stow your dreams.

Tuck in a hanky for dust and tears. They will streak down your cheeks because you my girl; you are real and you sniffle and sneeze when dreams fade or crack.

Do you have a little jam jar? Put that in your pocket too. Hold it up to the night and fireflies will stream into it. Let them cluster in glowing circlets in that jam jar. You now have living fairy lights. Then let those fireflies fly away, and streak like stardust across the night sky. That dust carries a sprinkle of your dreams.

Why trap fireflies when the light is within you. Know what! With the fireflies you might have gathered a falling star. Put that fallen star in your pocket and  “never let it fade away”. Morning will magically transform the fallen star into a fragrant jasmine. Charge that star with your own little torch; the single battery torch fitted into your spirit. Stars do shine forever and remain charged forever by that single  battery of the soul’s torch.

Your pockets will carry a comb for your comfort, and wishing flowers for your sweet wildness. Tuck into the pockets toffees for laziness and pebbles for making ripples in life. Make sure you have band aids for little hands, and hugs for adult souls. The pockets are the secret places of the heart. Do not share all the secrets or the toffees.

Your pockets will be your own: deep, topsy turvey, and they will bring forth surprises each time you dip into them. Girl; do not think surprises are always gift wrapped. In the pocket of life, surprises are both glittery as well as gritty. Remember to shove in that handkerchief.

All is pell mell in the pocket. Why do you need to arrange them. A pocket never arranges itself. It rattles and thuds and fumbles with life’s knickknacks that you have to delve to seek.

Get the pockets because you will need place for stardust for dreams that will mingle with dust from forgotten wishes. Also, there are those chipped marbles of laughter , broken crayons of heartbreak,  and your imagination. Are these the pockets of “broken souvenirs” from the lyrics of that song that still lingers in your lost moments , and then pierces you right now as you thrust your hands into your pockets!

So buy dresses with pockets. An extra cupcake, a real smile, lost reminders, secret teardrops, memories, petals, pebbles, past, present; put it all in that pocket. Yours to cherish, hold and sort through when the night is late.

Tomorrow will bring fresh, coloured chalk for the future. Will you then add chalk dust on the little slate of life that you have in your pocket? Do that. Rub off the chalk with your fingers because there is no eraser.

So what! No one will see if you rub the chalk dust with your tears.

You see the pocket is the paradox that belongs only to you.

(c) Debaleena Mukherjee All Rights Reserved