(PROSE POETRY)
OF MOON AND WASHING MACHINE
BIMAN ROY
OF MOON AND WASHING MACHINE
BIMAN ROY
People think if they wash themselves clean, they become sinless. They take dips in the Ganges or swim in the Nile to be pure. The washing machine does not know the difference between the blood of a man killed in sleep or a menstrual overflow. It does not delve into the depth of causality, like death sweeping away life from a sense of permanence. My neighbor, who sells junk from cars to sewing machines, puts an ad on a washing machine--as good as new even in the moon. Late into night I have heard rows of men thrashing white cloths on stones at the riverbanks for men who accompanied the dead onto the burning ghats. Their shiny, bare backs bend the moonlight any way they can.
Biman Roy has been writing and publishing his work in various literary magazines in United States, Canada, United Kingdom and India, for the past 3 decades or so. He is a Consultant Psychiatrist in New York and lives in New Jersey with his wife and daughter.
