Painting by Sudeshna Majumdar

Quiet Poems

Come closer—
these are not poems that shout.

They sit beside you
like an old shawl on a rainy afternoon,
warm, a little worn,
but never asking for applause.

You’ll find them
between your sigh and your second cup of tea,
in the hush after the door clicks shut.

Read slowly.
They are listening too.

Pink Shawl: Darjeeling 1997

Folded in mist and father’s smile,
a pink shawl, soft as first light,
waited in the hush of New Year
on a Darjeeling evening.

Bright flowers danced across its threads—
peony, rhododendron, rose—
as if he had sewn the garden
of his silences into cloth.

I wore it like a second memory,
wind-wrapped, tea-steeped, warm.
Even now, it smells of hills,
of hope, and my father’s arm.

Love Enters with Soft Shoes

It doesn’t knock.
It slips in
while I’m rinsing rice
or humming to myself.

No thunderclap—
just the hush
of breath beside mine,
a mug placed gently on the table.

Love enters
with soft shoes
and leaves footprints
only the heart can read.