Gul, the Grocer
Oh! To be like Gul, the grocer!
Disquiet’s cuirassier can’t toss her
__Comfort away.
She sits under a fan all day,
Waves at the residents who cross her,
and dabbles in the lines of Chaucer.
No office work. No horrid boss. Her
__Ancestors bought
This little round-the-corner spot
And each of them worked as a grocer.
A half-filled teacup on the saucer.
That loaded cashbox right across her.
__Her spending’s scant—
Some portion goes to mendicants.
The world of plushness never draws her.
Oh! To be like Gul, the grocer!
I Left My Heart in Chandni Chowk
I left my heart in Chandni Chowk:
Within its glitzy bangle stores,
The age-old fretworked dargah doors,
Among each kulfi-tonguing flock.
I left my heart in Chandni Chowk:
Between its peristyles, the block
Of bibelot and jutti shops,
The bollards where two pigeons stopped
To polish off my chickpea’s stock.
I left my heart in Chandni Chowk:
I left it to the aimless walk
We took, exploring stall to stall;
Your pose before the blurry, small
View of the Red Fort’s towering rock.
I left my heart in Chandni Chowk.
Dargah: A shrine associated with the grave of a Muslim saint or similar religious figure.
Kulfi: A flavoured frozen dessert of South Asia, made from milk and resembling ice cream.
Jutti: An item of footwear embroidered with silver or gold thread.
Shamik Banerjee is a poet from Assam, India, where he resides with his parents. His poems have been published by Sparks of Calliope, The Hypertexts, Snakeskin, Ink Sweat & Tears, Autumn Sky Daily, Ekstasis, among others. He received second place in the Southern Shakespeare Company Sonnet Contest, 2024.
“This little round-the-corner spot” is an endearing expression that makes me wish I were there. Especially since Gul has time to spend on tea and poetry, and with regard to money, open-hearted charity characterizes her. A lovely portrait, Shamik. The love lyric of “I Left My Heart” breathes a beautifully detailed atmosphere, with lines easily flowing as they tell a story and picture a lively place. Wonderful work.
Shamik, I presume these two poems are from your own experiences and feelings lodged in your mind of pleasant times. Your imagery takes us to India and “curries” our own appreciation for what it must be like to be acquainted with Gul, the Grocer and to walk in Chandni Chowk. This was enjoyable and educational.
These are nice little quintains, and they show an excellent command of some abstruse English vocabulary. I would be very surprised to find a poem these days that includes words like cuirassier, mendicants, bibelot, and bollards. In England and the United States, the silent disapproval of the Plain Language Police is a strong discouragement to poets who might wish to use non-colloquial diction. I am glad there is one English-speaking poet in India who revels in the richness of our verbal inheritance. Very fine work, Shamik.
What fun it must have been to make your list of rhymes for grocer! I laughed out loud! I love both the structure and the characterization in this poem,
as well as the description in the second poem. I, too, as Joseph said, am impressed by the vocabulary, and really enjoyed it.
I loved reading both poems, Shamik. They both beg for recitation.
Shamik, you always bring such an interesting perspective.
I particularly enjoyed Gul, the Grocer. A wonderful, rounded description, reminding me of those of the characters Chaucer created in his Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. We have similar ‘corner-shops’ here in Mauritania, and used to have them in the UK until the advent of mega-markets. The open cash box is a feature here, pwtty crime being virtually non-existent.
Chandni Chowk is full of vivid imagery and local colour. You brought the market / tourist resort to life, admirably.
Thanks for the reads, Shamik. You’ve set a high bar.
I love both these poems, but my comment didn’t get posted. So, I’m going to try again. Shamik, I enjoyed Gul the Grocer, but your depiction of Chandni Chowk made me nostalgic for all of it – parathé wali gully, the bangle bazaar, jutti shops… beautifully depicted.