Pianist
A poem by Aneek Chatterjee

Pianist

The rectangular wooden box
had intricate carving on its top.
Inside the box were, what you told us,
pearls, — letters from a mother to her son.
Each letter on the letters were like a pearl,
you said. You were so proud of her
calligraphy.  

I haven’t seen your mother
whom you lost long back.  
But she was inside the wooden box, among the
letters you swayed your hands over, like a pianist. On
every evening, you touched the skin and affection
of your mother.  

We were four in a small apartment; —
sister, mother, you and I, — a close knit family.
We never left one another.
Hence, letters were not exchanged.
I only watched you, father, shuffling
letters inside the carved wooden box.  

The box was always a wonder to me,
because you made it so wondrous for all of us.  
Now I  know that the rectangular box contained many
treasures, — pearl, gold, diamond and many more.

Now a person arranges and rearranges the letters,
to get the smell of skin, smell of love,
to wear necklaces of pearl and gold.
And each time he touches a letter,
hears the tune
of soft piano playing in every
wondrous evening.

About the Author:

Aneek Chatterjee is from Kolkata, India. He has published more than five hundred poems in reputed literary magazines and poetry anthologies across the globe. He authored 16 books including four poetry collections. Chatterjee received the prestigious “Alfredo Pasilono Memorial Panorama International Literary Award 2023”. He was a Fulbright Visiting faculty at the University of Virginia, USA and a recipient of the ICCR Chair (Govt. of India) to teach abroad.  

Poetry Breakfast publishes a new poem every weekday morning.
If you’d like your poems considered for publication visit our Poetry Submissions page.

Follow Poetry Breakfast
Facebook