A LOST WORLD by Shoumika Ganguli


Shoumika Ganguli

It was 6.00 in the morning when the alarm rang and my mother pulled me out of the bed literally dragging me out for a morning walk. Oh I hated it so much! Much to my mother’s horror I was about to push her away for just 5 more min into bed but what could a 12 year old girl half dreaming and half awake do?  Finally being penalised for my horrid state of somnolence I had to wake up only to find something very beautiful waiting for me outside. I stepped out of my house clutching my mother’s hand in absolute chagrin and when finally I opened my small eyes, it was a visual treat something for which my eyes were embalmed, something so serene it was a visage of greens all around me.

The morning brought about the sun in its mildest form just like an infant about to wake up, its puerile touch onto its mother hand, the sun was so happy to come out as if it waited so eagerly to see all our faces. The birds sang as if I was its audience and its sole aim was to gratify me, as if I was the melancholy sole and it came in to be my accomplice. The greens were the most resplendent as if it was so colourful and I wondered how beautifully it transformed when the sunlight reflected from its surface onto the lucid lake water. There is something about natural beauty that you cannot expostulate, some unfathomable, something still latent and something that can ameliorate the most jeopardised and dilapidated souls.

When I finally returned home the drowsiness was gone and I felt as if my eyes always wanted a vision that could salve its pain. Good god I felt so fresh and my mother smirked and said, “go back to sleep now” as if I would.

It’s still 6.00 in the morning today now I am 23 years old and I have to wake up on my own, my mother is 52 and she needs to sleep and I wake up step out of the door but this time my heart pains as I reminisces about the past, I find a boy nearby in similar situations as I was being dragged by his mother for his part of the visual treat but I find to be lucky since I could engage myself amidst natural elixir of life. I had birds to listen to, greens to look at, sun to play with but today the boy found the greens covered in dust transformed to dirty brown, birds losing their voice amidst the cacophony of traffic horns and the sun venting out its frustration at full swing.

Yes its 6 am again but somewhere the visual treat is lost transmogrified to something bizarre. The 6 am then is now a utopia. I could never find it back. If you find it back then please lemme know, I’ll again wake up at 6 am and will surely drag my mother this time for a serene walk through the by lanes of the beautiful nature.

Shoumika Ganguli - Poetess - Washington Bangla RadioShoumika Ganguli is a creative writer from Kolkata and can be contacted by e-mail at gangulitina1988 [at] gmail [dot] com.

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