searching for calvino

a library fantasy

We were searching for the Calvino

Somebody had misplaced in a 

Library that stacked its authors in an

Alphabetical order, placing thus,

Carolyn keene in the 

Wrong neighbourhood. One winter night,

A traveler had ventured on a journey 

That led him through an arcade 

Of books opening into one another 

Like the illusory wax palaces 

Of an ancient Indian myth.  Nancy Drew

Took his place, following her amateur sleuth

Instinct and wound up at the dead end

Panting and out of sorts, a clue

In her hand, feverishly scribbled

By an unknown hand. I tore it to pieces,

And asked again amidst the flying

Bits of paper, "password?"

 

After a long pause, she answered

With the ultimate answer,

42.

 

And then in an orgasm of

Revelation, the library

Opened up into an

Universe of crisscrossing tales,

Star trekking across the yellowing books,

Like  a comet gone astray.

 

P.S . To Dhrubasish Deka , Italo Calvino, Carolyn Keene and Douglas Adams and to Rajarshi Mitra , who introduced me to the traveler , waiting outside the town of Malbork

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[vivekanand]

expecting review of this poem