Fishmongers’ cleaver knives don’t rest at all;
Their heavy thuds outdo the termless spiels
Of colporteurs dispensing large and small
Versions of holy books. On mud-sunk wheels,
Waxed apples, sapodillas, apricots
Effuse their fragrance, trapping passersby
Who check the rates, then stand submerged in thoughts—
Some fill their punnets, some leave with a sigh.
Outside the mosque, blind footpath dwellers wait
To hear the clinking sound—the sound of true
Relief—while dogs, flopped by the butcher’s gate,
Get jumpy when he throws a hunk or two.
Loudspeakers, placed on high, say “call to prayer”
And all work halts; there’s silence in the air.

*****

Shamik Banerjee writes: “Crammed with saree shops, bakeries, small abattoirs, vegetable vendors, holy book distributors, toy stores, and sundry other things, Masjid Road is one of the very few tireless market places in Guwahati, my hometown. As a frequent visitor to this place of never-ending commotion and bustle, I have always been fascinated by these sellers’ devotion to their work. Though rest is a distant guest here, all activities come to a standstill right when the nearby mosque sends out the call-to-prayer through towering loud speakers.”

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. (‘Masjid Road’ was first published by Bellwether Review.) He secured second position in the Southern Shakespeare Company Sonnet Contest, 2024.

Photo: “Indian Shops” by Scalino is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.