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Today My Brown Sedan Is Two

Today, my brown sedan is two,
But I behave as if it’s twenty,
So freezing by a showroom’s door,
I scan the models—new; aplenty.

And busy with an old dollop
Of mud, there goes my niece of seven.
I wonder how she finds in it
Unhindered joy and all of heaven.

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The District Judge 

While sitting by the desk, as noon grew old,
He kept on staring at the ceiling fan
(That was in haste to turn his lunch all cold)
With somewhat unconvinced and frozen eyes.
Caught in the duel between hard facts and lies,
He thought about those last resounding cries
Of two young boys, the almost-widowed wife,
Each pleading made by their convicted man,
And the black ink pen that expunged his life.

.

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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. He received second place in the Southern Shakespeare Company Sonnet Contest, 2024.

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10 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    The first poem took me back in time to when I was six and my cousin made some mud pies and insisted that I taste them! They tasted like mud! That second poem exudes the sadness of being locked away and a life destroyed. I sense the disparity between the facts of the case that may have given way to the lies told, much like political cases. I noted the unusual rhyme scheme that seemed to accentuate the desultory results of a trial.

    Reply
    • Shamik Banerjee

      Nothing is as golden as childhood days, Mr. Peterson. I admire your keen perception and theories presented. You are absolutely right about the relationship between the rhyme scheme and the result of the court session. Thank you so much for reading and expressing your valuable thoughts.

      Reply
  2. Daniel Kemper

    I like the almost somatic link between the ceiling fans cooling effect on the judge’s lunch, and the logic of the situation, despite the imagination of passionate moments, steadily cooling until it is as cold as black ink.

    The apparent setting, the death of the children, and the uncertainty of justice reminded me (perhaps shallowly) of some scenes from The God of Small Things. Actually, not perhaps shallowly, definitely shallowly, there’s so much difference. But it did indeed float to mind.

    In the first poem, it’s a great juxtaposition between the worry or lack thereof between young and old. Perfection calms the worries of the old; imperfection calms the worries of the young. (?)

    Reply
    • Shamik Banerjee

      Dear Daniel, I greatly value the time you took to not only read my poems but also write your understanding of them. I really like the narrative you’ve provided for The District Judge. The God of Small Things is an excellent novel by Arundhati Roy and is a must for every bookworm. I must say I’m truly moved by your insight regarding my second poem. The sense of lack is definitely the core of it but the other part of your theory is fitting too. I never thought of it from that line but now that I do, your theory settles very well. Thank you so very much.

      Reply
  3. C.B. Anderson

    Your unique and oblique takes on the world always bemuse me, and I can easily imgine you playing with our brains in ways heretofore beyond the scope of our experience.

    Reply
  4. Shamik Banerjee

    Thank you so much for reading and commenting, Mr. Anderson. I learn from SCP everyday and strive to improve, bit by bit. I hope you are doing well.

    Reply
  5. Gigi Ryan

    Dear Shamik,

    I read your first poem several times. You compare the contentedness of a young child to that of the discontent of an adult. You wonder how she finds such joy. While children have much to learn from their elders, we can still learn from watching them. Thank you for reminding me to watch and learn.

    In your second poem, you caught well the sober and heavy responsibility of a judge. Here he must make a decision with far reaching consequences, and at the same time his lunch, of little importance in comparison, grows cold.

    Both of your poems use contrast to make your reader think. Thank you.
    Gigi

    Reply
  6. Shamik Banerjee

    Dear Gigi, you have captured the very essence of my poems and put forth an apt summary of them. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment. It’s always a pleasure to read your words.

    Reply
  7. Paul Freeman

    You’ve made me think up a new term – polarised poetry.

    The first poem contrasts responsibility-laden adulthood with the innocence of childhood.

    The second contrasts the smaller responsibilities of life (eat your food before it gets cold), with the great responsibility of deciding whether to end a man’s life.

    Thanks for the reads.

    Reply
  8. Margaret Coats

    Your first poem, Shamik, seems to me to be about toys and joys. Often a man pays so much attention to his car that it appears to be a child’s favorite toy. As well, at least where I live, men identify one another with their cars. If they cannot recall a name, they speak of the man who drives a brown sedan. Women, however, are more likely to speak of clothes another woman usually wears. And children, like your niece, can make a toy or identifying joy, from almost anything. I myself used to play with camphor berries as if they were chess pieces (at least until they dried up, and I had to pick fresh ones from the tree). That’s a bit different from wanting a new car when your sedan is only two years old, which is a form of dreaming of the future when you will need and can afford a new car. I hope my elderly brown sedan continues to hum for a few years more, because I really prefer it to almost any new one I can think of. Therefore you have my wishes that your young car may function well and look better for a long time–and that your next car may be a dream come true.

    How much less fortunate is that “District Judge,” who must think of varied circumstances in a disturbing capital case. You have not made the case quite clear to us; it is presented as it flows through the mind of the judge in a particular setting. His is a serious occupation with great responsibility. An uneasy job, too, far from the joys of mud pies or new cars. In both poems, you give your reader just enough to develop a concerned train of thought. Well done.

    Reply

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