In this poignant poem, Mamta delves into her ‘sepia memories’.
As dusk settles
Memories begin to scrape my mind
Like negatives of snapshots
Sometimes sharp
Sometimes fuzzy and undefined
Bringing in wanderlust
Of a sedentary kind
Roaming
Through the maze
In rooms of yore
Bungalows and tenements
Unriveting transfer orders
Farewells and tearful partings
Train journeys to distant realms
Lugging away trunks, bedrolls, tiffin carriers, earthen surahis
Leaving behind faithful retainers , ayahs and allies 
A brief harvest of pampering and adulation
The amiable milkman in his rickety contraption
The Tonga wallah and his flatulent mare
The mailman forever acid tongued
The melodramatic washerwoman, half bare
Her tantrums tolerated by an ever-obliging male crew
The gnarled driver forever guzzling a local brew
The Bio-scope wallah fuelling fantasies galore
The Banta goli soda treat that tickled the nose
The lecherous tailor in his dinghy store
With kitschy posters of buxom heroines in a filmy pose
Sweat drenched assistants bent over
Humming with raspy sewing machines
The dense smoke of their beedis sticking to clothes
Sometimes I giggle at an earlier repartee
At times a tear trembles at the corner of my eye
Terrified to see days buried deep
Gush forward with a swift sweep
Infants gravitating towards youthful follies
The young ageing
The old in an unknown domain
Sepia narratives 
Whole or partially bruised
Fill up the vacant hours
Once the sun caresses morning
Kick-starting the day anew
One gets used to the losses
Dusting off the leeches
That only suck at the past.
Pix from Net.
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