The Bouquet of Shiuli
Now I can’t walk past the hospital
bringing a bouquet of shiuli¹ flowers,
a few pieces of amber placards,
a white handkerchief in my pocket.
Let us venture outside, away from
the odour of nurses and patients,
seamlessly sowing hope into the
slits of our minds with no knowledge at all.
Those tired-looking gentlemen sitting
on the cool hospital floor look dazed
as the footsteps of other patients pass by
with agonizing voices—they soothe
their minds, compelling them to say:
“Everyone is suffering in Kolkata.”
Let’s walk a while and find a restaurant
on the hospital premises, order two dosas²,
two plates of maach bhat³, and sing for a while
of our quaint past shattered by gnawing illness.
So I draw this liminal space of happiness.
Can you see Death playing a piano,
writing our names on the placards,
wiping our tears with the handkerchief,
while the exquisite odour of shiuli
compels us to forget our afflictions.
Let’s finish the meal soon—the petals
are scattered on the restaurant floor.
I can see how our closing eyes look exactly
like those frightened nights. But at least
we have no worries about how the waiter
would carry away our leftover food and plates.
shiuli¹: a fragrant autumn flower native to the Indian subcontinent.
dosa²: a popular South Indian fermented rice-and-lentil crepe.
maach bhat³: a traditional Bengali meal of fish curry and rice.
Suman Mondal
Suman Mondal is a poet and English literature student from West Bengal, India. His work has appeared in The Statesman, Exclamation Mark Literary Journal, Spillwords, Literary Yard, and other literary publications. He was shortlisted for the Young Writers’ Journal Weekly Prize (2025).
Instagram: @sumanm73_poetry