When the Final Minute Chimes
written by: Suman Mondal
When the final minute chimes,
and, sitting by the windowpane,
I shall see the world in grains—
and among my well-wishers,
my whole life in their faces.
The world will chide my fragile vehicle,
and I shall stand pilloried by the trees.
The sizzle I’ll hear in my deafened ears—
from the old gas oven cracking potatoes—
as the ancient clock begins its tingling.
I will slowly embrace the warm tears,
and admit, lampooned by the drops—
mizzling rains will dim the cheeks’ rain,
and I shall sleep with my eyes opened,
my paralyzed body hallucinating.
I will hear the words in scornful tones,
and yield to callous nature’s fate:
“If death comes sooner, the relief—
both of us get—may he go to heavens.”
I shall hear the words without judgment.
I will close my eyes, and the world will close.
I shall know the world never existed,
and I’ll sleep with that half-knowledge:
no friends should wake me from my sleep,
no gods must grant me a place in heaven.
I shall not hear the cries of my close ones,
which I longed to hear throughout my life.
I shall not see my friends with dirges—
that I longed for before I was born.
I’ll sleep forever, and peace will prevail.
No birds will wake me at serene dawn,
nor my mother will make a cup of tea,
nor my teachers praise my humble lays,
nor my girl return to kiss my lips—
they slept before I got my chance to sleep.
My son’s son’s son’s son’s son’s son’s will die—
a peaceful sleep in the tumultuous morn.
And I’ll be forgotten in this cruel existence,
this fiendish Earth, this harrowing cosmos,
this atrocious life, these spiteful breaths.
Till I meet my sleep, I will admire—
my life’s richness, my society’s empathy.
I shall admire my mom’s handmade chickens,
I shall admire the world for its fleeting light,
and I shall admire the peaceful sleep at end.
- When the Final Minute Chimes - October 13, 2025
- Phantom - May 5, 2025
