SOLITUDE KARAOKE

“Promise me that you'll remember me always
Remember that I existed
Remember me like this
Remember that you and I made this journey
That we came to paradise on earth
And I was standing here besides you on this day and saying this”


These words still haunt me with the melancholy of a Mendelssohn solo
They still seem to echo and linger, nine years later
Still reluctant to let go of me


The bridge is still there
And the shikaras and the frozen lake
And the sky mountain people who glow pink in the mellowed afternoon sun
The sunset is there on Sundays
I've been there on a few
Everything is not the same there but it's still there
At the same place


When I was here with her, I didn't pay that much attention to her words or the scene
For I took them for granted
I thought they would last forever
I never imagined, that one day, nine years later,
I would try desperately to recall it in detail
I have no trouble with the kahva sellers, the shikaras, the snow and the meadowlark
These I can draw with my fingers on a misty windowpane if need be
But I can't bring back her face that easily


I'll not lie
What used to be inscribed permanently on the laboratory of my mind
And what I could recall anytime, by just closing my eyes for a second;
Has now started taking longer
Acetylene neurons fire high voltage impulses into my fore-brain
And then it trickles instead of oozes,
Her memories: bit by bit
And I struggle to join the images like a jigsaw....


Flaring nostril: pierced.
And ears too, each, twice over
Pink punk rock volume 2 hair
Two 'R's tattooed just a little above her bikini line
The oversize snake-skin jacket she wore everywhere with ripped jeans
And her
Gothic,
Kohl- lined,
Gum- chewing eyes


But beneath her Pirate girl veneer
She was a seventeen year old girl, denying herself that she was in love with me
Or so, I've always liked to think
And as we walked along that day, Winnie spoke to me about Tibet.
Was that it?
Winnie Chatterjee
She said-
“I prefer 'She said she said'”
That was so like her
'Existential motifs in Tibetan book of the dead'
And then, 'The relative merits of two John Lennon songs from Revolver'
Segueing from one topic to another
With a wave of her hand or a toss of her head
Arguing passionately, nudging me playfully with her elbows


How strange then that it's only her words that one really recalls
Amidst a million things that have vanished,
All that remains
Are a non sequitur, a repartee or two;
And that odd sentence on pop songs about death


I am, at times, still capable of being astonished by her
Vineeta Chatterjee may be the most famous woman on the East
Her films may be seen for centuries
But for me
She is still Winnie
Appearing nine years ago, in her brother's snake-skin jacket
And then on, in dreams
And she is Winnie, the superstar, standing before me right now
Signing autographs and contracts with the same distaste


As if to punish me
She has aged dramatically over the last decade
Yes, she is still graceful and regal and even sexy
But one is reluctant to note that she is suddenly, no longer beautiful
The beautiful one is lost forever to the world
And I'm sure in a few days
Even to me


I dread but I know that her face will vanish one day
Like a dream upon awakening
That one day all my memories of her will get lost in the woods somewhere
And I'll not be able to find her again
But for now, I do
And surprisingly, I feel; the more rapidly she fades inside me,
The more deeply I'm able to understand her
And therefore, I realize, I continue to write
For if nothing better,
It makes me think of her