THE MAGIC WAND - Poem by Bhaskar Roy Barman

Bhaskar Roy Barman

Once in my childhood I watched mesmerized a magician

magic everything away from before my eyes

and thought he had descended, endowed with supernatural power,

from a fairyland where illusions reigned supreme

to transport us into the world of illusions.

I got thrilled at the flying of a pigeon away

from under his hat

and at the emerging of a hare out from inside his pocket.

I got so tranced at the magicians acts of pouring forth

illusion after illusion of the magic world,

waving his magic wand.

I forgot the time passing imperceptibly by.

I found myself jerked to the harsh reality

only when the magician goodbyed us

and strode away from the stage.

Many years had passed since then

and the magician had faded into oblivion.

One day, when sauntering in a park,

When the sun was ready to dip down the western horizon,

I bumped into that magician, now an old man

staring across the park at the rows of trees.

I walked to him and asked:

Were you not that magician

who used to have people thrill to his magic feats?

Yes, I were, the old man replied, smiling a rueful smile.

Someone stole my magic wand

and now I ceased to be a magician.