August Ache

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Author: Sahana MukherjeeA sample cover of the book: salmon coloured handloom sari with gold embossed nameplate and lettering for the title and author's name. The border of the sari lines the right hand margin of the cover.
Pages: 68
Year of Publication: 2019
Price: Rs 200
ISBN: 978-93-5045-195-3 (9789350451953)

About the Author
Sahana Mukherjee had a year-ending birth of sorts on the 31st of March, 1995. She has tried to retain all the stories she gathered from her grandmother’s lips, but some have begun to fade away. Along the margins of every other page in every other book, she likes to draw a bare tree right beside a tilted home.


At every primal stroke

At every primal stroke of midnight, the heart turns paper
and behind every chord flutters a spasm of blue.

Someone writes: Autumn teaches us to let go. I don’t
know what winter does. A healthy incarceration,
a loyal lobotomy, cross-border councils of love


Someone else writes: What’s keeping you alive
these days?

Sometimes I am the eternal enemy – at middays or
after midnights – and sometimes I collect away
all your silences – what we have specifically lost

between us.

A war zone is a war zone, after all; never a home
that runs on loss.

Your house, you say, hides well behind the woods.
Behind mine, the gulmohar would stand strong
if not for the world.

We’ve been betrayed as poets who made invisible
an entire birth, and now yet so exposed
merely at a moment’s glance?

I cannot write of illegal detention camps, Federico.
Hearts burst at borders, and they won’t let me pass.

I have come, unannounced, to the shores of your lies
closer to the truth than all of mine.

These fingers, so twisted – incomplete – are dust –

May the butterflies come in and make us whole again.
May we die in winter, at last.

42 poems