bangalir baishakhi pitha
rubana
it's a pitha morning.
the white, sandwiched layers of bangali's seasonal tongue,
the filler patali,
the crumbs, the lump of wet, steamed guri,
the brown and burnt greasy, easy rings
fired by the artist's finger, fidgety with regrets
of not belonging to a school scene
where every stroke is paid for
trained to tolerate trade
like rickshaw art at MOMA
the wall without work
the nudes nodding with nothings
the canvas crazy colors
it's all about the brown fears
of an adapting, immigrant heart
craving for endorsements
of a white bubble
of how and what should be cautiously considered as
art, life and honor rubana is pursuing higher studies at jadavpur university, kolkata.
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