The Flutist Poem by Pranab K Chakraborty

42years the man played flute
At last the flute took him away
Beyond the map

Village mud
Muddy path
Pond with lotus
Its thorn, snakes
Meadows, buffaloes
Sun setting sky
Knew him well

All the pleasures of birds
Bees and cowboys
Listened him to play
A tune to touch their cry

Now nowhere the the sound
No dance of air
No humming no buzz
A blank white sheet
Floating with unreserved hands
No one to draw any line

42 years the man played flute
But at last the flute
Carried him away at midnight
While he attended the ragas
He played many times
At sunrise...

Pranab k c
28/11/2019