Hazel
Poet · Kolkata · India
A poet who is beyond her time
A writing journey
It has barely started, my journey is a mystery invoking history lingering pastry and admixture of chemistry...well thats all about my life.
Published writing
Tracks Without Her Name
Her slippers are thin.
The ground is hot.
The train is louder than her thoughts.
She walks the line where steel meets dirt, balancing a pot of water on her hip, a child’s fever on her back, yesterday’s argument in her throat.
The men in AC coaches don’t look down.
The women in window seats scroll past her.
She isn’t a symbol. She’s tired.
Her sari smells like smoke and sweat.
She stops to retie it. The train doesn’t.
At the bend, there’s a tea stall. She won’t buy. But she listens to the radio play old songs, and for three minutes, the world isn’t moving and she isn’t left behind.
She adjusts the child. Keeps walking. Because the house is still two fields away, and nobody else will walk for her.