Dr. Vass Geo is an untroubled, non-traumatised artist who loves colours.
Twists and Twirls of Life
Poetry by Sreelekha Chatterjee
CW: Mental Health
I see life like a strangling mist, an unending realm of mourning, about sadness that doesn’t cease to exist. The trail of gloom passed on through generations, like an heirloom from my forefathers before me that leaves me abound with unyielding desperations. The reason to live is unclear, while the need to die is urgent, I stand on the bridge that connects the two, knowing not who will appear as emergent. The demons of darkness drive me crazy, as I carry the burden of my own corpse, for in fear and solitude, everything appears hazy. A voice in my mind distracts, so is a constant whisper in my ear something is wrapped inside me like a coiled, live wire with the filament exposed to outside danger of a fire near. It opens holes in what was once a solid ground, when I attempt to take a step only to find myself floating in the air around. I’m in thrall to pills as long as melancholy finds me, attaining a robust façade disguising the misery, a musty, foggy gloom that I am trying to flee. The scars on my body remind me of my unrest, of days darker than nights when I was sad and broken, when I didn’t give up and tried my best. Seeing how much trauma I endured and now that I am free, my mind realises the violence I inured. My body rejoices the marks of survival, of unspoken pains and sufferings, like spring following winter, healing, I got through my abhorrence, attaining self-revival. Like fallen autumn leaves swirling with the wind, life assumes varied motifs, the coin of happiness and sadness twirls in life’s ring. As I celebrate, the clouds thunder in the grey sky, a bird announces its presence, bringing in good news in its cry. Regal in appearance, an electrifying blue, with the grace of a flower, swaggering and waving his train of feathers, a peacock twirling, its move of love that is so true. Eyespots of splendour caressed with mossy hue pirouetting, dancing like a dynamic sea-wave in an exuberant display, my eyes fixed on him like ones with glue. In the illumination of the lightning that blazes the sky’s heart, insouciant, an iridescent blue-feather–crested head turns with conceit, my heart flutters in joy, visioning the work of Nature’s art. His feathers luxuriant, opalescent shades set to impress in style, like a life of yellow, blue, brown and green colours that ensues, a world without these is like a face without frown, gloom and smile. Quivering, glimmering a spectacle in his plumage, a glory as resplendent as he strikes up a wonder I wish for a world where darkness never finds roomage.
Sreelekha Chatterjee is a short story writer, poet, researcher and editor. When not writing, she loves to sing and spend time cooking. She lives in New Delhi, India. @sreelekha.chatterjee.1 (Facebook) @sreelekha2023 (Instagram) @sreelekha001 (Twitter)