A humming word

Phuphee drapes her shawl  and sits by the apple orchard  With  a dechee of tehar  samovar  and a cup of mustard oil, she spreads her carpet like a flock of pigeons,  Pecking a handful of rice Surround Phuphee women from her village  When one woman narrates, the other anoints the narrator's hair with mustard oil "it releases the tension"  Phuphee says  these women who toil hard  And traveled a long way on Phuphee's carpet, Listen to each other All day  /inspired by the article by Saba Mahjoor in The Hindu/

 The more I write, the older I get  -A Bengali poem  Pages, sewed together by a thread loose, are stashed in wooden cupboards.  Cursive writing in ink pen,  followed by labyrinthine scribbles with a sketch pen or a 5 rupees ballpoint pen.  These loose pages push themselves to a corner,  when the cupboard opens.  Later, they whisper  about the ballpoint pen's secrets.