Kushal’s poem is a surreal encounter with a neurologist, a hidden cactus, and a smile that embodies both joy and profound sadness, exclusively for Different Truths.
The other afternoon I imagined
I would tell Vijay, my
neurologist friend, about the cactus
I keep it in my breast pocket.
He would mention—I thought-
"The breast pockets waned
out of Vogue summers ago."
I would say, "Everything outside
my skin is a metaphor."
We should argue about the smile.
My smile crawls out of my skin
and sin, bones and neurones,
chemicals, pleasure and
a clique of sadness. The other afternoon
fire ceased. Sadness slinked out,
flew amidst the ashes, bled with our feet,
sparkled on the sprinkles, shells, and shards.
In the breeze, it played a busted drum
made from plastic skin.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
Kushal Poddar, the author of ‘A White Cane for the Blind Lane’ and ‘How to Burn Memories Using a Pocket Torch’, has ten books to his credit. He is a journalist, father of a four-year-old, illustrator, and editor. His works have been translated into twelve languages and published across the globe.
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