Payback to my childhood best friend, now more than ever!

As I look back , upon the days we've spent, I see the long miles we walked together. 

I‟m awed, how when everyday we met , 

you were still the same, but today, age has got you to wither.

Those dried beds somewhere down your course, 

resemble so far so much grandma's crow's-feet frowns. 

The silt, I reckon, weighs you down, 

just like the nicotine does to papa's lung. 

"How does it matter, I can still breathe", he says. 

Only he coughs a little more. 

So much as you ripple your way around the litter. 

Only he breathes heavily when he's climbing stairs, 

as though the blood still flows, but for those dams controlling your quiver.

Outside my country-side school, 

driver uncle and you waited every day. 

You knew, right, the Golgappa dada, wouldn't see me off without the extra piece, 

and I wouldn't see you off without dunking my feet, for a minute or two, 

majorly, to stand out, on chilly evenings,

while the exhausted sun receded, back then, to I-wish-I-knew-where.

minorly( if there's anything like that), because I assumed you had a virtual attendance sheet, 

to mark me present or absent in our encounter track record.

Our way, I'd rather say, of exchanging a busy word.

You and I, have shared so much, you know me so well. 

All my only-ifs voyaged to the infinite salinity with you, safely,

in those silent bubbles of destiny, 

even when the sinister tempests of insecurity made you swell. 

Hey, did I forget to mention?

You have as much been a part of my upbringing, as has the old English ma'am from high school. 

Remember when You always looked up to me as special?

and I denied like a perennial fool!

Remember how you walked me into adolescence, with crucial lessons of life. 

How "one must go on and on, no matter what", 

the show has indeed gone on, but the "what‟ has been going along too.

Is that what's changed you so much?

So much that today you're like old grandpa who needs attention the most?

Now I'm worried he's living his last, his numbered days are further few.

I always knew the moon had a thing for you. 

In class they taught of the tides that rise and fell, 

All too bookish, I could tell.

But when we'd meet, the way you fluffed and swept, 

had much of an unrequited love to tell. 

I saw you from behind the great old banyan. our only mutual friend,

(you too think he has been there since the inception of forever, don't you?)

Because you were so shy, you barely let me ask you of it! 

Whenever you'd know I've seen, you'd meander blushing like hell. 

Back in town, God alone knows how you‟ve been. 

Here in the cities, your cousins have a tough time surviving, 

just like I am having, 

coping with the new job, 

and a new crush I am waiting to tell you about. 

Just so you know I care, I do recollect how you hated the new factory they‟d set up by your side.

Know what reminds me of it?

You always told me how it was like the drunk room-mate you were bound to babysit, right?

while they vomited on you their tar. 

Whenever I'd come back from University, 

I'd high five with you on how relatable our situations were, 

only that I'd fret a lot, but you simply smiled and looked afar.

"There's always a beaming day", you'd sigh, "on the other side of a night"! 

You'd got such a long path to travel, 

I'd scurry along, always wanting to know where you led. 

Reminds me of this one time, the heart-broken poet in me asked you,

"Is one end of you called Life, 

through which Time sent endless gifts, for the other end, 

the Dead?"

Today when my holidays are limited, 

I wonder whether you miss me as much, or you‟ve made a new friend. 

Would your new friend ever know how flawlessly majestic you looked back then?

How the chilly waters swelled only during rains?

How during summers, your six packs dazzled proudly, 

and the ice-flakes of winter were in trend?

Last time when I sat at my study, to write another of my many letters to you, 

the show-piece hour glass slithered its way, 

fell head-on thudding the floor, 

spilling grains and shattered glass all over.

Is it a sign that

something must be done, to have you back, happy and gay?

Letters of remembrance aren't enough for display?

Or is it because its time to think of a better way,

For, With you sick and gone, who is the real loser?

They think I'm a mad woman, 

writing letters to a river for years. 

They're oblivious to the numerous others I have written, 

to multiple Councillors, chairmen and Mayors. 

So much I've researched on the Welfare departments, 

So much I've shivered at the mere thought of your future. 

A future so dark, so poisonous, so gross and so reluctant. 

Who else but we, have led you here, 

where today you are a dark truth, such inconceivably frequent.

You frequent my conscience a lot, trust me. 

Sometimes, I am able to listen to you, 

sometimes, I only hear. 

You‟re dealing with so much grief all alone, i'm aware, 

Oh my first ever friend! 

losing you is beyond definitions of fear.

Will my progeny only know of you, and the bond we've shared? 

Of legends you have ladled down my ears,

into a mind so vivid, that it aches to watch you slowly die. 

Will nobody ever lie peacefully on your bosom, ever again? 

float past the nuances of life, dive into your calm, dodging all wry?

You had promised timelessness, 

promised to always just be! 

Isn't it true that a part of the return gift, is still on me?

Decided I have, thus, 

to "make each day count", to "stop living it off the edge", 

I'm coming, to ensure you a destiny equally sound. 

What efforts indeed, will it take, 

to lay a broad pipe, and deploy a motor and brake? 

So that next time the drunkard factory, vomits onto you, 

the tar goes back the drains, and puts itself to some other resourceful use.

Why not process organic waste before they reach your breast anew, 

Lets get inorganic allergens out of your way, 

and channel them into reuse?

Why not deal defecation into compost and manure, 

Why not get awareness lessons amongst children of that eager age

that we all once were?

Let's plant more trees on your bed, to hold up your soil tight and firm.

(Grand old Banyan needs friends, after all?)

Let's refuse Plastic waste, 

one step at a time, success isn't too blur!

I‟ll end here, my letter to you my dear, 

with vows of coming back with gifts. 

I've never given you gifts, until now I admit, 

finally, I have the opportunity to do something that will matter. 

I can barely wait, to see the look on your face,

When you've learned how I‟m planning to rejuvenate you! 

I'm sure, you will smile proudly, 

and together we will reminisce to that quote we've designated as a timeless favorite:

“For men may come, and Men may go,

But I go on forever”!

by

Triparna Chakraborty.