Tirtho’s poem, exclusively for Different Truths, depicts a violent earth split and a smooth, altered surface after a recent New Delhi earthquake, despite the real quake’s passing.

I didn't feel 
the tremors of the 5.36 am quake.
The rattling of the windows 
didn't invade my deep morning sleep,
neither the creaking of the doors,
nor the swinging of the fans or
the booming noise
they said had a peculiar impact.
 
I didn't get a wind of any of it...
Nothing jolted me awake.
The bed may have been rocked by the earthquake
but the tremours didn't force open my eyes.
 
The night before
my sleepy train of thought 
had encountered many jerks
before it reached a realm
where you give in to visions:
some subconscious, some imagined.
 
A series of images appeared:
first separate and standalone
and then overlapping.
I saw 
the bosom of the earth 
cracking and splitting into 
two halves...
and the earth's crust sucking in
the rivers, the mountains, 
the birds, the squirrels, the ants
the forests and their unheard voices.

Everything vanished
in just a fraction of a second.
 
And then
the split land masses came together again
and the ground's surface got sealed.
What I saw were
only roads with swanky cars, dizzying high-rises, bullet trains,
the electric poles, the mobile towers
and a multitude of faces 
beaming with pretensions.

 The earth's face didn't look the same again.
Yes, I didn't feel the quake's tremors...
But something in the visions beyond my eyes
felt an uneasy restlessness in the rumbling.
And its echo has stayed with me ever since...

Picture design by Anumita Roy

Tirtho Banerjee

A journalist by profession, Tirtho likes to call himself an international citizen. He has travelled across India, and worked in the UAE and Oman as well. Music and nature draw him. Tirtho lives in Noida currently. He has six poetry collections under his belt – the latest being ADRIFT. His poems have been published widely in a number of publications and anthologies.

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