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  • Nandini Sengupta

Sandy tales (part 2)

Updated: Apr 1, 2022

The sound of your anklets

caressing the heated sand,

The playful wind wiping

your tears before they

touch the rusty land,

bring them to me-

I feel them within

the crevices of my

harrowed palms.

I revive the same agony

that beseech you, my dear,

My flute makes no sound now

no tunes ever come out

of that empty reed,

my tired hands, incapable

of balance, incapable of

forging love out of it.

Those downcast eyes of yours,

dark and deep within

glimpse through your veil.

I see you in my dreams now

waiting every passing day

to start my journey to you:

the wait that finishes at dusk

on your part, my love

starts with dawn on mine,

Those years we traveled

together on this earth,

Those aeons we have loved,

will not end in vain-

your wait merges with my essence;

In our wait, we are One:

your heart where I reside,

that very heart is Mine forever...

*(The young man now lives in the city for work, away from his love. Every day, he counts when he will meet her. In their wait, they are together.)

By Nandini Sengupta


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Feb 05, 2022


Piamony Photography
Piamony Photography
Feb 01, 2022

This is so beautifully written.


Jan 23, 2022

I could imagine myself standing in the desert, witnessing the back and forth between the two love drenched souls yearning for each other's presence. The fire ignited in their hearts burns brighter than the sun overhead. The opening lines of this piece were particularly striking, mixing the melodious chiming of his beloved's anklets with the caress of the heated sands—sands inflamed less by the beating sun, and more from the ever pervading tale of their love. Such a beautiful mix of emotions, imagery, and a yearning for love; all so beautiful put in words. In his wait, we can see a part of ourselves, and in his toil, maybe a fraction of our own suffering. A piece so enchanting, it…

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